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Bra off, spicy Cheetos, and a TBR pile like whoa, I’m set for the perfect Friday night.
I’m willing to go without food. I’m even willing to go without locks thanks to the toothbrush shiv under my pillow. What I’m not willing to go without? Fucking Wi-Fi.
Putting my bra back on feels like the worst kind of surrender.
And stupid me. I forgot to pack my shiv.
Casually armed with an aluminum bat, I sneak through the shadows to my floor.
“What year is it?” I croak out, hoping I’ve slipped into a coma and am now sixty-five years old and ready for retirement at sea.
But instead of taking the shot, our sniper jumps out of his tree. In one fluid motion, he throws his rifle over his shoulder, drives a machete through a cartel soldier’s jugular, and war whoops like a goddamned Highland warrior.
Finn has too deep a death wish to ever be wheel-man.
My father never bluffs. I’ve known that in my bones since the day I mouthed off as a toddler and he confiscated my teddy bear.
“I wouldn’t…” But yeah. I definitely would.
If they’re going to treat me like a fucking object, I’ll treat them like my bank account.
he’s half fitness model, half tatted-up gangster, and deeply intense whether he’s your enemy or your best friend.
Craig gives me the heebiest of jeebies,
“I don’t want to.” Were we not just at the same meeting where I was blackmailed?
I’ll do what I do best. Be a ghost. And before anyone notices, I’ll disappear.
I would LOVE to slink back to my hole. It’s comfy there, with books and snacks instead of beta bastards and asshole alphas.
But you can’t run from your fated mates.
“Follow her,” Atlas barks as the omega dashes off like an Olympic sprinter.
The girl looks like a warmed-up skeleton. She shouldn’t be able to cover so much ground so fast.
She outran the drone.
A scent match. Destiny. Fate. My meant-to-be mates. Omegas have an extra fail-safe when it comes to finding our matches. We don’t need to be awakened to recognize their scents. To them, my scent is nothing. To me, theirs is everything I can never have.
Running makes me feel better. Swimming makes me feel best.
I promise myself I’ll look up how to set up a lean-to and an organic farm, so the next time I’m lost in the woods, I can just stay fucking lost and solve all my problems.
“I’ll feed you all night if you keep making those sounds.”
I’m still banned from drinking. The pack claims I start too many fights. Like I won’t start shit sober?
I never give a shit about anything. But I need Lilah’s attention.
When her head bumps my chest, and she stares up at me, seeing only me, Lilah wears a smile like moonbeams. My heart gives the one full-on thump it usually saves for jumping off bridges. Fucking weird.
I haven’t worried about shit since I notched my first kill at seven years old.
Only a few things make me feel alive. Bikes. Stunts. Saunas. Killing. Clubbing. Fucking. And Lilah motherfucking Darling.
Lilah’s all the fun of vodka shots and drag racing without the hangover and jail time.
“That’s why. Since when do you get so attached so fast?” “Since Lilah. Don’t you feel it?” “What? The guilt?” “No.” Guilt isn’t even a thing. “She’s special.”
Am I the kind of girl who rolls over and begs just because a sexy as fuck alpha smiles and feeds her cheese fries? Damnit. I’m totally that girl.
I can go a week without food. I can go four minutes without oxygen. But I cannot survive a single day without Wi-Fi.
“What are you going to do for me?” he asks. Not stab you in the eye?
I’m fighting those scents and the butterflies in my stomach. Fuckers need their wings hacked off.
I don’t need men. I need money.
At first look, the girl is shit at taking care of herself. Then my goddamned intuition chips in, because if hiding is her safe place, if suffering in silence has helped her get this far, I can imagine how badly she’s been treated.
Kid can defuse a bomb in ten seconds, smelling like applesauce and sin.
Orion was always different. Just like Lilah’s different.
“Just don’t rock the boat.” Me? I’m the motherfucking captain of the S.S. Do Not Disturb.
I need to be slapped.
Treacherous butterflies take flight in my belly. I swallow hard, hoping they drown in stomach acid.
I need to shut down the horny ravings of my inner slut.
Hikaru scoffs. “You haven’t spoken to my son about her?” “We’ve discussed Lilah as a pack.” “Did you ask him how they met?” Hikaru throws me a curveball when I’m not even holding a bat. “They know each other?” “Don’t you wonder why she was never contracted? An omega that beautiful? It has nothing to do with being unawakened.”
PAUSE
Hikaru stares down his nose like an emperor passing a divine proclamation. “Lilah Darling is your pack’s fated mate.”
“Re-read the girl’s records,” Hikaru insists. “She’s evasive. Jumpy. Always in a fight. Never attended events with alphas unless she was coerced. Lilah’s not going to trust your pack unless you earn it.”
“Lilah’s inevitable.” Scorpio claps a hand on my shoulder. “Take good care of her, son. She’s your future.”
She has dark circles under her big eyes and a hint of yellow bruising in her hair. It’s not a healthy look, and it makes an unwelcome rumble build deep in my chest. I should be protecting her.
can protect myself.” The announcement sinks a barb in my chest. She shouldn’t have to protect herself. Fuck.
“I’m used to being alone.” There’s a resignation in her voice that sends a wave of guilt crashing.
