Page 101 of Knot the Alphas' Feral Omega

I leaned down to pick up the envelope, and Oliver was immediately at my side, gently taking it from me despite the rage making his hands shake. “Let me,” he said quietly, his voice grave.

The tension between us was thick enough to cut with a fucking knife as he peeled open the envelope, and whatever issue we’d had not even two minutes before was already far gone from my mind.

This letter was because of Lilah; I just knew it.

Oliver’s hands shook so badly that it took him two tries before he could open the envelope properly. When he finally did have it open and the paper inside removed, he waited almost a full five seconds before unfolding it.

I hated it, but I understood. I felt like I was coming out of my skin, but I still felt like taking a second to prepare for whatever was written in the newest letter from hell was the right call, especially for Oliver.

His scent soured with distress, and he opened the letter, scanning it quickly.

His eyes flashed gold even as he paled, and the snarl that ripped from his chest would have terrified me if I didn’t know Oliver like the back of my hand.

“Give,” I mumbled, snatching the letter and feeling my anxiety rise.

Anxiety that was only confirmed—and horrifically amplified—by the single line on the page.

You think that you can keep my daughter from me? Big mistake, boys.

“Oh, fuck,” I gasped, my teeth already elongating as my shift tingled through my entire body. It took every ounce of self-control I had to shove down my wolf so I didn’t tear through my clothes and shift right then and there.

Hunter Randall had Lilah. The Slicer hadour omega.

“Oliver. Oliver!” My voice was faint and aggressive, and I could barely hear my humanity through my wolf. My claws tore into my palms where I was clenching my hands into fists.

When I looked over at Oliver, he was already dialing, his eyes bright gold as he seemed to struggle to control his shift similarly.

“Emmett,” he snapped the second our final packmate picked up. “Come home. Now. We...Lilah is gone. Randall has her.”

53

Lilah

My head throbbed when I finally stirred...God knew how long later.

I groaned and squirmed around, vaguely aware of two things. One: I was still in human form, so whatever my kidnapper had done to me hadn’t been threatening enough to force my shift. Either that, or I had been too deeply sedated for my wolf to react appropriately to whatever was happening to me.

The second thing I noticed was that I was on a bed—or something soft, at least. The surface underneath me was squishy, and when my hand slid out, I felt the distinct texture of brocade stitching on a bedspread.

I forced my eyes open and managed a quick sweep of the room I was in before the heaviness of the drug overtook me again. The room was plain, if expensive. It looked like a luxurious hotelsuite of some kind, though a peek out the window told me there were enormous trees just outside. There were no trees like that anywhere near the city, where a fancy hotel might be.

That meant I had been out for some time...and had been taken to a second location.

I swallowed hard. I wasn’t a true crime girl, but even I knew that if you were taken to a second location, there was zero chance you would leave the situation alive.

My heart pounded, and the urge to shift was strong. Whatever drug was still in my system was stifling my shift, though, the magic that pushed my change far off on the very edges of my subconscious. I couldn’t even make my claws pop out, my nails remaining irritatingly dull and human when I tried.

I was stuck. I was helpless. I didn’t know where the fuck I was. I didn’t have my pack...

My stomach swooped at the thought, which was enough to make me bolt upright despite how my head spun.

I’d spoken to Killian just before I’d been taken. They had to know that I was missing by now.

I scanned the room and didn’t see my phone at first glance. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, centering myself for a moment and drawing on my enhanced hearing—though it still wasn’t as strong as it would be if I could shift.

Still, I could hear the quiet sounds of my surroundings: birds chirping in the trees outside and the faint rumble of a car driving by, far enough in the distance that the road had to be quite away off. That realization made my stomach sink, but I swallowed hard and continued to listen.

It took a moment before I could finally identify the soft sounds of footsteps in the building—downstairs, based on the distance I could measure. They walked steadily, pacing ten steps, then a brief pause, then another ten steps.

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