Page 99 of Chosen Beta

My grip tightens on my keys, but with my arms pinned I can’t find a way to use them.

He steps back and sets me down by the side of the bench.

I spin around to face him, pointing the keys at him, ready to slash.

My heart is racing, and I’m filled with disappointment that he turned out to be worse than an asshole, and that’s when he shakes his head and nods toward my office.

I frown back at him, trying to figure out what he’s up to.

He already had me trapped, and he let me go.

And now he’s trying to get me to look away from him?

He makes a slow, deliberate gesture with his hand, and it takes me a second to realize he’s using ASL. Once my slow brain catches up with his meaning, my mouth drops open.

I hear the scuffle of footsteps a heartbeat later.

Someone’s inside my office!

Chapter Thirty-Six

Owen

The instant I caught the faint sound of movement inside her office, I picked Lana up and moved her away from the door she was about to open. An Alpha’s senses are stronger than most, and mine are finetuned to pick out details from a short distance.

Sounds, scents, shadows.

I’m hyperaware of everything that’s going on around me, at all times.

And right in this moment, I’m listening to the sound of someone snooping around in Lana’s office while I decide on the best way to protect my woman so I can deal with the threat lurking inside.

I use ASL to alert her to what’s going on.

She looks shocked, and that’s probably a good thing.

People who are shocked are easier to order around.

I gently lead her to the side of the door where she’ll be out of sight, and I sign for her to stay right there until I check if it’s safe.

She rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t move when I go back to the door.

She signs back at me, asking me to be careful, before she folds her arms tightly under her chest.

I smile back briefly, before I turn the door handle, careful to open it quietly.

The door itself makes a disturbing creaking sound as I ease it open.

I look inside to find a man standing behind Lana’s desk, with a vaguely guilty look on his face that he hides quickly under a frown when he sees I’m not who he’s expecting.

“Who are you, and what are you doing here?” he asks, with an air of authority.

He’s dressed like the guard who let me into the academy yesterday so I can guess his job title.

“Funny,” I reply. “I was about to ask you the same questions.”

“I’m head of the dayshift security team, and I want your name and reason for being here, and if you don’t give that information over right now, I’ll call back up to have you detained.”

Well, I guess it’s good to see he still knows how to do his job.

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