Page 87 of Shattered Omega

I nodded.

“But they can’t… they can’t bite her if you don’t give up the bond…” She trailed off, eyes glittering. Roxy was smart enough to know that if it were that simple, we wouldn’t be reacting like we were.

“What do you need?” she asked, voice hoarse.

A unique in. One only she had. “The Lincoln pack. Do you think you can get one of them to come to you, alone?”

She chewed on her lip, eyes darting between mine as she thought.

“They took her,” I said quietly. “It will have to be good.”

“Yes. Eric. I think… He’s desperate. I had to block his number yesterday. He heard I uh… I was talking about my heat to other packs.” She opened her phone, scrolling through texts. “He was pissed, saying… here uh…” She wrinkled her nose, reading out one of the texts. “You’re a filthy whore… No pack will pay a dime for your heat after you were ours.”

“You said desperate?—”

“That is as desperate as it gets.” She scrolled back through some texts. “If I tell him I’m in preheat and no one wants me…”

“You sure?” I asked.

“Oh, he’ll come.” She nodded. “You’re going to kill him, right? After what he did to her…”

I coughed, scratching my head. “Right.”

I didn’t think I was supposed to say that out loud.

It was the truth, though.

Eric Harrington was going to die, but only after he gave up the location of my omega.

THIRTY-ONE

SHATTER

The Lincoln pack arrived not long after we did.

I was grateful all of a sudden for the scent blocking spray, because there was no way I would be able to mask my fear when they stepped in. I dropped my eyes, not ready to see them yet.

Flynn took one look at me and waved a hand. “Alright. I need a fucking drink. Bring her in five,” he said, waving at Mord, stepping by us and down the grimy hall to another room. He paused, gazing at me. “Why is she in socks?”

“Good news.” Mord shrugged. “Your omega has manners.”

Flynn rolled his eyes, vanishing, and Gareth followed, muttering something about staying in a shithole.

Eric lingered, though. “Come here,” he said, and I dared glance up at him to see him watching me with dark eyes.

I swallowed, unable to stop myself from glancing at Mord. His cigarette was long out, but the stub remained between his lips. He watched me carefully as I got to my feet and forced myself to cross out the door to the hallway, where Eric waited.

“Why do you look so scared?” Eric asked. “Aren’t you supposed to be happy you’re saved?”

I glanced up at him, then back down to the floor. “H-he’s got a gun,” I whispered.

Eric snorted.

“Hands.”

“What?”

“Show me your hands.”

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