Page 130 of Faith and Fury

Even now, bound to a metal chair in the corner of what I assume is someone’s garage—a big, windowless room with polished concrete floors—I can still feel the shock of electricity in my blood.

“This isn’t what we agreed.”

My eyes lock onto the only alpha I don’t recognize—portly, elderly, leaning into a gold-tipped cane.

“All due respect,” the other ringleaders, a narrow-faced blonde called Darla, says, “you wanted the omega. And we got her, as was agreed.”

“You think I want her now?” The old alpha fumbles for his phone, thrusting the screen in Darla’s face. “She’s the RDF’s most wanted, for Christ’s sake! If they trace her back here—if she escapes, again—”

“She won’t,” Hamish cuts in.

“That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one with a hundred-million-dollar empire on the line.”

It clicks for me then. The bunker, this garage—the whole goddamn property—must belong to this guy.

And for some reason, he wanted me.

Oh my god.

It’s him. The high bidder who’s been putting pressure on the ringleaders to get me back. It makes my insides twist, imagining him up in the stands, watching my last fight with K-4.

The old alpha limps toward me. He leans in close, his breath reeking of tobacco.

“Take out her gag,” he orders. “Let’s see what she has to say for herself.”

Only then do I notice the uncomfortable tightness around my jaw—a dirty rag stuffed between my teeth.

“Alright, F-7,” Hamish mutters as he unties me, “screw this up, and there’ll be consequences.”

I could almost laugh. Three years I was stuck in the ring, and these assholes still don’t know the first thing about me. I spit across the room, trying to get the bad taste out of my mouth.

The old alpha makes a face. “Is she feral?” he asks.

“Not as far as we know,” Darla answers. “At least, not when she’s out of the ring.”

“Well that’s something.” He taps my foot with his cane. “Go on, omega. Tell me why you’re worth keeping.”

My lip curls in disgust. Instinctively, I try to move my hands—to sign something obscene—but they’re locked to the chair behind me.

He quirks a brow. “Well?”

Great. Should’ve guessed they’d be slow on the uptake.

I open my mouth, vocalizing emptily, trying to demonstrate. The alphas share bemused expressions. They bicker among themselves, the old alpha getting more and more impatient, before finally it sinks in.

“I … don’t think she can speak,” Hamish says.

Darla snaps at him. “What?”

“Axe always said she was quiet, and she uses sign language sometimes … maybe this is why.”

I roll my eyes.

“Oh.” Darla scowls, but then that scowl turns to a grin. “Isn’t that something? A nice, quiet, feisty little plaything?” She sneaks the old alpha a meaningful look.

He is quiet, deep in thought, assessing me with an added interest that makes my skin crawl.

“Deal’s still off,” he says at last. “It’s too risky.”

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