Page 127 of Feral Alphas

I plunge forward into the night gloom, the cold air stinging my lungs. Ahead looms a pedestrian bridge and I mentally swear. “He’s headed for the train station!”

Felina radios it in, but I haven’t seen any other agents in pursuit. I dig deep and thunder up the stairs. A figure runs flat out across the bridge overhead, and I yell my warning once more before lining up my weapon.

The gun barks, followed by the ping of bullet on metal and sparks light up the handrail. I growl and keep running as he gets further ahead. Too many places to hide in a train station.

Even though it’s late, there’s still a crowd. I yell my OCB warning as I burst onto the platform. People scream and hit the ground, but the one I want has vanished.

“Fuck!” I growl as Felina catches up to me, panting.

“Someone running went that way,” a woman with her face flat to the ground calls, pointing along the platform.

I nod grimly and spot a patrol officer. “Get this station locked down!”

Behind me I can hear the sirens that promise more agents are coming, but we’ll lose this slippery son-of-a-bitch if I don’t keep going. “You good, Felina?” I ask.

Her lips peel back with a ferocious snarl. “Yeah, let’s keep moving.”

We race along the platform, glancing over the sprawled passengers to check their left hands, but he’s not here. OCB agents swarm the station as we reach the end and I peer around the edge of the platform. A dozen feet down in the dark tunnel, an access door sits ajar.

“Down here!” I growl as I catch a faint whiff of alpha musk.

Felina throws the door open for me and I swing around the corner, gun aimed. My heart drops to my toes. The service corridor branches in three places, and it stinks of fumes and stale air so bad I can’t smell a thing.

My shoulders slump and Felina swears too. Although we’ll keep searching, my heart tells me he’s in the wind.

“Why the fuck would a fugitive even hang around?” she grumbles under her breath.

“Good question,” I mutter before radioing in what we know.

But this man’s stupidity will give me something to do to take my mind off Colt and his broken pack. We’ll track the kennel monster down and put him away so there’s one less problem for the man I’m in love with to worry about.

And while I’m doing it, I’ll see if I can think of a way to heal the rift between him and Luka and put things back how they should be.

Chapter forty-nine

Rose

I place the cards in front of the feral alphas’ cells with the tongs, operating automatically. My heart and soul disappeared out the door with Luka three days ago. I scrub at my aching eyes, knowing they’re ringed with black bags from lack of sleep.

Colt and I have had three screaming matches since the day he kicked Luka out but no matter what I say, he refuses to go and get him. I told him I don’t care if Luka recorded me; I would have said yes if he asked me. Luka’s never hurt me.

A tear slides down my cheek as I flip over the top card and start the round, muttering the colors with zero enthusiasm. I don’t care if what Luka did was wrong. It was fun, and he must’ve had a reason. Luka loves me, and he’s my scent-match.

Colt said being a sex nymph was all the reason he needed, which started another screaming match. I know he’s wrong, because Luka’s used his quiet time to jerk off for months and he’s always closed me out of it before—which I respected because otherwise we spent every single moment of the day together.

Something made him change his mind.

And I don’t think Colt means what he says either. He has a blank look on his face these days, like he forgot how to feel at all once Luka was gone.

“Your lunch is nearly ready,” Kye calls from the kitchen, and my heart clenches again, sparking more tears. Sandwich-making is Luka’s job, and he was teaching me how to make the perfect lunch meal. Butter all the way to the edges, tomato in the middle so the bread doesn’t get soggy, and the right brand of mayonnaise.

And now it’s all gone. He’s gone.

“Red three,” I murmur, placing the card out of my deck onto the discard pile before massaging my back which feels bruised. Could be from all the fits I’ve thrown.

The shadows in Scar’s cell stir and I glance up to find him edging toward the front bars. By the time I’ve done another full round of the game, he’s squatting a few feet away, the closest he’s ever been.

“It’s a wild,” I say, placing the black card. “You can choose the color if you like, Scar.”

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