Page 21 of All In

Omegas like confined spaces and being able to burrow and nest. Those jerks better not have permanently ruined nesting for me. It’s one of my favorite things. I love snuggling up with a soft blanket and lots of pillows.

I don’t even know who to be angry with. I’m still confused about why they want Lyra in the first place, and I have no idea who Sparrow Cavanaugh is.

I’ve vaguely been able to put together that Sparrow was Lyra’s roommate who was going by a different name, but I still don’t know why my sister left Vegas.

Let alone what happened to her roommate after she did.

They shoved me into this trunk during mid-afternoon. It has either really cooled off if it’s still daylight, or I’ve been in here for so long that day turned into night.

Violent tremors shake through my entire body as I try to wiggle my toes. I’m freaking barefoot. I’ve read that if you lose a single toe, you have to relearn how to walk.

What a nightmare.

I try to focus on the burning hatred I feel and not the fact I feel like I might freeze to death. My best guess is that my system isn’t regulating my temperature properly since they haven’t fed me in days.

I have no idea what comes next, but I do not want to die in this trunk.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” a dangerous-sounding voice says. My entire body jolts. I think I was about to pass out from hypothermia. I attributed the noise and chaos to hallucinations. I wonder if that’s what this is. Maybe I’m already dead. “Get an emergency blanket.”

I scream, fighting against the restraints, but it’s futile.

The skin around my wrists and ankles doesn’t even hurt anymore, but I know it was bloody and raw before my nap.

The clicking whoosh of a knife being opened only makes me fight more violently.

“Shh, you’re okay,” the same male voice says very close to my ear. “I’m going to cut these off and get you out of here. You’re safe.”

Hardly.

Does he actually think those words are going to put me at ease?

Because they don’t.

I scream, struggling against the bindings with every ounce of energy I’ve got.

They shoved me in here as I begged and pleaded with them not to.

Why would they treat me any better this time around?

“She’s going to jerk at the wrong time, and you’ll take her damn hand off,” another voice says. The trunk sinks as someone puts weight on it. Gloved hands wrap around my wrist, pushing me against the mat that lines the trunk. “Go on, Gunner, I’ve got her secure.”

There’s a clicking sound as the plastic is cut away from my wrists. My hands are still held in place, though. Maybe it’s the same guy, or it could be the other, but someone pins my legs down as they repeat the process.

My instincts are torn.

Part of me thinks I should be pathetic and beg them not to hurt me. But the angry side screams that I should fight like hell.

Fabric brushes my skin as I’m lifted from the trunk.

“Chill the fuck out,” the second voice says close to my ear. My head slams back, and I connect with what I think is someone’s face. I kick wildly, trying to aim for the guy’s balls. “Motherfucker, I think she broke my nose.”

“Damn. She got you good, Maverick,” the first voice says. I guess that one belongs to Gunner—whoever that is.

“Put me down,” I snap, scratching at the arm wrapped around my middle. “I’ve told you before. I don’t know anything about Sparrow Cavanaugh! You wanted my sister, but you got me! This is all a big mistake!”

“You’re feisty for being half-dead.” Warm breath fans over my neck as Maverick speaks. “Fine. Give it a shot on your own, but don’t bitch at me when you end up flat on your face because your legs can’t hold you up.”

My feet hit the cold and unforgiving concrete as I rip off the blindfold.

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