Page 29 of Savage Trap

It’s stating the obvious, but Link doesn’t call me out on my impatience. There’s not much outside their public image, but there’s a rumor there was a third brother who passed away. The twins aren’t implicated anywhere, but the medical reports have been sealed. I can get in, but it’ll take time.

And the club? Link is tracking our phones, so he knows exactly where we are. Any ideas where we’re going?

In the Alpha Kings territory? Nowhere good.

Stating the obvious must be contagious, but I let Link get back to work as the car pulls into a lot filled with luxury cars and we climb out. The street is no different from the dozen others we’ve driven down, except it’s a dead end, and I can see a building rising up ahead of us. It’s painted entirely black, from the steps leading up to a portico to the wide, flat roof. Over the doorway is another of the graffiti crowns, although this one is lit up in red neon.

No name, but a red crown, I tell Link and Cam, who is a couple of minutes behind us.

Could be a place called The Feral Den. No details other than a few comments on a dark chat. But keep your claws sharp. I’ve got a bad feeling about this place.

It’s not like Link to overreact. We’ve all survived the Tower, after all, and that was no picnic. But I find myself stepping closer to Rory as we mount the stairs, one twin in front and one behind. There’s a black metal door under the portico that reminds me of a bank vault, but it swings open easily enough, and we’re met by a female alpha in a black pantsuit. She’s tall, with a long blonde ponytail that comes down to her butt and sweeping cat’s-eye liner. She’s beautiful, but not someone I’d choose to mess with, which I guess explains how she got the job of door bitch.

“Your private room is ready, Mr. Rawson,” she says in a way that encapsulates both twins, but then her eyes linger on me. “You didn’t mention an omega in your party.”

“We’re courting,” Bryce says with a sleazy grin in my direction. “Thought we’d show her the sights while she’s in town.”

“And him?” Her cats-eyes linger on Rory a little more than I like. “All alphas have to register. You know the rules.”

Rory raises his brows at me, but I open my purse and show her my nice shiny new ID with my pack name on it. “I’m Elvana Starling-Ferrier, heir to the Boston Pack. Rory is my mate. And I’m definitely not here on a date.” I grab my phone as well, bringing up a picture of Nate that Link sent me. It’s from surveillance footage instead of his personnel file, since he’s possibly here under an assumed name. “Have you seen this man? He’s a friend, and we want to make sure he’s okay.”

The blonde’s eyes flick towards the twins, but then she shakes her head. “He doesn’t look like an alpha.”

I grit my teeth. “He’s not. But can you honestly say everyone on the premises is?”

Her cats-eyes narrow dangerously. “It’s my business to know. But if he’s here, I’ll send him on his way. Best I can do. Now, do you want to go through to your room, or is this goodnight and goodbye?”

I glance at Rory, while asking through the bond, What do you think? Cam’s not going to be able to get in here easily. Should we come back with reinforcements?

Rory’s eyes crinkle at the edges, and he hugs me tighter to his side. “Send us a bottle of something good and put it on their tab.”

She glances at the twins again, then turns on her heel and hands us off to a guy further down the hall. It’s dimly lit, with a cement floor painted black and blood-red wallpaper. Definitely soundproofed, with some kind of scent diffuser being pumped through the air conditioning. We reach another door and music starts to seep through the cracks, something low and heavy on the bass. The sounds sharpen when we step into a larger room, and I catch muted conversation and the clink of glasses. Instead of heading towards it, we go to an elevator against the wall and our escort waves a card over the scanner. When we’re inside, he hits the basement button and leaves us to it.

“You’ve got a membership,” I say to the twins as we descend. “Didn’t think to share that with us earlier?”

Brock shrugs. “It’s new. We didn’t even think we’d use it this trip.”

“So you come to Chicago a lot?”

They give me matching innocent smiles. “Not as often as we hope to visit Boston,” Bryce replies, and I decide elevator music would be preferable to this conversation. So I ignore the twins and listen while Rory updates the guys through the bond. No one is impressed to find we’re going into the basement of a club without scouting it out first, but Cam decides to try his luck on the door, while we step out into a large circular room. It’s brighter down here, mainly due to the spotlights being used, and it feels a bit like a three-ring circus because there are multiple things going on.

In the center of the room is a large circular dais, currently empty. To the left is a mesh-covered cage where two alphas are stripped down to shorts and battling it out. Musk and blood are thick in the air and I shoot Rory a pointed look. We have recent history of the sort of shit alphas like to watch when it comes to cage fighting. But this match-up looks pretty even, so I follow Bryce towards a set of stairs.

There are three levels looking down on the action, some with booth-style spaces and others with private rooms, either with glass doors or red velvet curtains. It’s enough like the Looking Glass to make me pause, but the vibe is different, darker, and I don’t think anyone’s here to watch a sexy ballet.

“Dominance fights,” Rory says under his breath as we stop at a room with velvet curtains. “I wonder if Leon knows this shit is going on in his city.”

Rory’s not trying to keep this between us – he’d use the bond for that – and the twins chuckle as they step inside and make themselves comfortable on black leather couches. “You think he’s not getting a kickback?” Brock asks. “For all you know, he’s a member. Maybe even the owner.”

I couldn’t care less if the Alpha of Chicago is into this stuff; that’s my dad’s problem to work out with his ally. But if Nate is in a bad place and his pack isn’t doing anything to help him, that’s a different matter.

“Check that out,” Bryce says, a hint of glee in his voice, and I turn to the dais on the right to find three wolves circling a fourth. All alphas again, but the one in the middle is almost twice the size of the others. For a moment, my breath catches and I sway on my feet. Rory, of course, picks up on the issue immediately and drops a soothing arm over my shoulders. Not Arben, he tells me through the bond. Just a big fucker looking to prove he can take on a bunch of wolves at once.

And people really pay to watch this?

Dominance fights are big. They have a professional circuit, but amateurs go from city to city for underground fights, or get hired by places like this. His gaze turns inward, a hint of pain in his green eyes. My granddad made a name for himself by taking on all comers. Still got his throat ripped out in some shithole in Vegas, though.

I’m sorry, Rory.

---