Page 18 of Feral Omega

When he finally steps back, I'm trembling in spite of all my attempts to remain calm. To show no weakness.

Thane's fingertips dig into my shoulder, grounding me. I take a slow, steadying breath, trying to compose myself. I can't let them see how rattled I am. Can't let them smell my fear.

But it's too late for that, I think. They're alphas. Apex predators. They can probably taste it on the air, metallic and heady. And now, they have my scent.

There's nowhere they can't find me.

Thane steps forward, positioning himself subtly between me and the others. "She's not a toy," he says, his voice low and laced with authority. "I expect you all to be on good behavior while she gets settled in."

It doesn't go over my head that he says nothing about what comes after that, but I guess at least I can expect a day or two to get my bearings before they jump on me. Assuming they follow the rules laid down by Thane, who seems to be the head of the group, even if each of these men is formidable in his own right.

Good. That gives me time to plan my next move.

The others exchange glances, something unspoken passing between them. Something I can't quite read. Their behavior is so different from betas. Every motion, every word, is charged.

Whiskey is the first to break the silence, his grin razor-edged. "Whatever you say, boss."

And with that, he turns on his heel and saunters off, whistling a jaunty tune. The others disperse as well, fading back into the shadows of the bunker until only Thane and I remain.

I let out another breath, my shoulders sagging as I allow myself to relax, if only just a little bit. I don't trust Thane at all, but he seems to be the least psychotic member of this pack of human wolves.

I'm acutely aware of his proximity, the heat of his body, the musk of his scent. Pine and smoke and alpha.

But he just looks at me, something inscrutable in the depths of those onyx eyes. I hate how unreadable he is. It doesn't make me feel any better at all about my new situation.

My new prison.

"Come on," he finally says, his hand falling away from my shoulder. "Let's get you settled."

And what choice do I have but to follow?

I'm in the heart of their den now, with nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. I'm completely at the mercy of the Ghosts.

And something tells me they have none to spare.

Thane leads me down a long corridor, our footsteps echoing off the concrete walls. I try to keep track of the turns we take, mapping the layout of the bunker in my mind, but it's a labyrinth of identical passages and doors.

Finally, he stops in front of a nondescript door and pushes it open, gesturing for me to enter. I hesitate, my heart lodged in my throat.

Is this some sort of trap?

A cell where they'll keep me locked away until they have use for me?

I'll bite their dicks off.

But Thane just looks at me expectantly, one brow arched, and I force myself to step over the threshold.

And then I stop dead, my breath catching in my chest.

It's a bedroom. A real bedroom, with a bed and a dresser and... is that a desk by the window?

I blink, certain I must be hallucinating. But no, it's real. The bed is made up with a thick quilt, felt blankets, and pillows. The dresser is sturdy oak, and the desk...

I drift toward the window as if in a dream, my fingertips grazing the smooth wood of the desk. Outside, the wilderness beyond the concrete and steel buildings stretches as far as the eye can see, a sea of evergreens dusted with snow. The sky is a crisp, cloudless blue, the sun casting long shadows across the valley.

It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

"I know it's not much," Thane says from behind me, his voice startling me out of my thoughts. "We didn't have much time to prepare. I'll have materials shipped in so you can nest, but until then, you can at least have blankets."

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