Page 135 of Mercy & Her Devils

Has this put us all in even more danger?

Kai is a steady presence behind us, taking the worst of the storm against his own back.

Finally, we reach the bottom of the staircase.

The dark forest, which is being lashed by the storm, lies on the other side of the water. There’s no way to cross to it from here.

On this side of the house, there’s only a broad ledge that leads beside the house, trapping us against the swirling creek.

Foaming water is breaking in furious torrents over the sides of the ledge, whipped up by the storm.

I’d better not slip here.

Kai leans over me. “Pretend that you’re hurt worse than you are. Crouch down and act like you’re unwilling to get up.”

I let out a distressed wail, before dropping Lark’s hand and falling to the floor.

I clutch at my ankle, crying.

It’s not hard to act, when I’m already shaking with fear.

This low down, I’m drenched by the creek’s water.

“Hurts, Alpha!” I scream above the wind like I’m exactly the type of Omega who Fletcher believes me to be.

And not the rebel I actually am.

“Silence!” Kai barks in an autocratic tone that he’s never used with me before. I have a feeling that he’s never used it with anyone but instead, is mimicking someone who he knows. The King of Scotland? “I told you to be quiet. Now, stand up and get moving, Omega.”

Lark growls at Kai like he’s the threat.

An outlaw. Criminal. A member of the gang who stole us from the Institute.

“Start walking, Broks, or I’ll beat both your foolish behinds,” Kai snarls.

Lark scrambles back like he’s frightened of Kai and panicking (he should win an Oscar).

I whimper, pushing myself up and stepping even further away with my back pressed against the cabin’s rough, wooden wall.

Lark winds his arms around me against the driving rain like he’s holding me in our joint terror of this giant of an Alpha.

I notice, out of the corner of my eye, a flicker of movement.

I nod my head at Kai, whose hands clench for a moment.

The assholes are wearing scent and pheromone blockers.

I should’ve expected that of Dad. It was one of his tactics on a hunt.

What Fletcher and him don’t realize, is that we’re hunting them.

“Alpha, please…” I whimper.

“I’m here, darling,” a man says, fervently.

A man who has no right now to call himself Alpha or me darling. Yet he’s answering like he’s my Prince Charming.

“Fletcher,” I whisper.

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