Page 192 of Ruled By The Alpha

Fucking hell, I’m out of sorts today. I’m usually stronger than this, and I usually have much better control over my emotions. I’m acting like a weakling, and I hate it.

Not giving myself a chance to second-guess myself, I rip the door open, and it slams into the wall with a bang. I cringe, and Wes snickers.

“Shut up,” I mutter before racing down the hall.

This will be the tricky part. I’m not sure what’s happening out there, and we could be stepping out into danger. At this point, I’m considered a traitor to the rebellion, and I’m going to be hunted, so I’ll need to be smart about all this. The chaos outside is no doubt due to them, and if any of them spot me sneaking out of an alpha’s home—in his clothes, nonetheless—that’s going to spell bad news for me and Wes.

I don’t need to tell him to be careful; we’ve done this song and dance before. Granted, nothing as dangerous as what we’re about to do, but still.

This time I slowly ease the front door open, and the sound from outside becomes nearly deafening. I peek out and see people running around in a panic, shoving and snarling at anyone who doesn’t move out of the way fast enough. As expected, it’s bedlam out here, and I can only pray to the gods that this allows us to slip into the slums with few difficulties. Hopefully they won’t be paying attention to any omegas in their midst.

*

We managed to get through the high zone and mid zone without any issues, but it seems that’s where our luck ends.

The source of the loud bang becomes clear the moment we cross from the mid zone to the low zone, and if I thought the upper zones were chaotic, they have nothing on the slums.

There is a massive hole in the wall surrounding Whitshell, and a mass exodus is underway. People are violently pushing and shoving their way through the hole and into the surrounding wilds with little regard for the mindless beasts that live out there, waiting to prey on the fleeing betas and alphas alike. I have no doubt there are some omegas fleeing the city too, taking their chances in the wilds rather than enduring the mess of Whitshell.

Can’t say I blame them, and if it weren’t for Wes and my sisters—and now Maddox—I’d probably follow them into the world beyond. But I’m not alone, and I’d never risk my loved ones like that.

“What the…” Wes trails off, staring in shock at the hole just like I am as we hide in a nearby alley. The sun has long since come up, so it’s not as dark in here as I’d like, but it’s the best we’ve got, and I’ll take any advantage as I can, no matter how slim an advantage it is.

It’s impossible to see which of those escaping are rebels, and that makes me nervous. I don’t want to be spotted, but unfortunately, it seems it’s too late for that.

“Never would have thought you, of all people, would be a traitor to our cause,” a nasally, all-too familiar voice snarls from behind us.

I whip around to face off with Baron, my commander. He’s a weaselly-looking man, with greasy brown hair hanging low over his face and hard blue eyes that speak of barely restrained violence.

“I’m not a traitor to the cause, Baron.” I speak slowly and clearly, hoping to reason with him. “I was caught and hung up to die, but I didn’t squeal.”

He takes in a deep breath, nostrils flared, lip curled in disgust. “Your scent begs to differ, Evelyn. You reek of alpha, and how very surprising,” he smirks, “two omegas—one of whom had been hiding right under our noses the entire time. Had we’d known, you’d have been far more useful to us. Now you’re worthless, and that leaves us all in a little pickle, wouldn’t you say?”

I’m already shaking my head and stepping in front of Weston. “You don’t need to do this.”

“Oh, but I want to,” he purrs.

Fuck.

He pulls a dagger from the hidden sheath at his side. I’m prepared for it, though—I know his tricks, but he also knows mine. The situation is made worse when three more betas come up from behind us, effectively pinning us in.

And I’m weaponless.

Fucking hell.

Chapter 12

Evelyn

A quick glance reveals that the newcomers—rebels who must belong to another faction, since I’ve never seen them before—are holding their fists up, also weaponless. That evens the fight a smidge. Wes can fight too. He’s scrappy, and he’s currently pressed up against my back, facing the three betas while I keep my focus on Baron and his fucking blade.

“I love you, Eve.”

My heart clenches. “I love you too, Wes. More than you know.”

“How fucking sweet,” Baron mocks. “Two omegas in love, smelling of the same alpha bastard. So sweet I want to fucking vomit.”

He charges me without warning, and I raise my hands, ready for the blade to sink into my arms, unwilling to dodge and risk Weston getting stabbed instead. I hiss out a breath as the blade drags down my left forearm, blood immediately welling under the metal.

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