Page 22 of Feral Alphas

His question catches me by surprise, and I twitch. Does he not trust Colt’s intel or is there something else at play?

Colt doesn’t appreciate it either. “It’s not like we need to hold hands in the bathroom to get the job done,” he grumbles.

Minstrom hides a smirk by drinking from his coffee cup. I suspect it’s gone stone cold, but he swallows anyway. “True, but I want to hear what Agent Liam has to say.”

I blink at the chief, wondering what’s on his mind. “Yes, I agree. Colt took a few wild leaps, but I believe his intuition paid off. We’ll know for sure once we investigate more.”

Minstrom nods. “Alright, I’ll get you the warrant. Good work.”

“All down to this great detective work.” I go to knock my knuckles against Colt’s chest, but he chooses that moment to shift position. I realize belatedly it doesn’t sound like I’m referring to Colt. “I mean—”

“I’m sure,” Minstrom says, cutting me off. His phone rings and he waves us away with a flick of his hand.

As we head out, Minstrom covers his receiver and calls after us. “Liam, come back and see me later. I need to talk to you about something.”

“Sure, boss.”

Colt tenses but he walks away without a backward glance. With a sigh I shove my hands in my pockets and stroll back to my desk. We’re gonna crack this case together; I can feel we’re close. This dealer will lead us to the time and location of the underground fight. Then we’ll take that damn fighting ring down and then I’ll invite Colt out for a beer.

I cross my fingers, wishing this case might improve things between us, but knowing better than to get my hopes up. Some things aren’t meant to be. I learned that lesson the hard way a long time ago.

Chapter nine

Rose

Petrov taps his finger against the car window. “This is Darinian City, Rose.”

A handful of skyscrapers thrust into the sky past the suspension bridge we’re driving across. Orange ferries slip along the glimmering river below. The late afternoon sunlight casts fragments of blinding silver on the wavelets that prick at my eyes.

I blink to clear my vision and turn in the seat to look back at the supposed refrigeration truck following a few cars behind.

Petrov snorts. “Seems like you’re more worried about the mutts than seeing a new city.”

“They don’t have much space in there.” None of us have had any space in the three weeks since I was first dropped into a kennel cell, but the truck is standing room only—I saw when they loaded the men inside a day ago for the long drive.

He scoffs. “Stop stressing. We’ve done this a million times before.”

I face forward reluctantly and resettle my seatbelt. “What’s in Darinian then?”

“Hmm.” Petrov taps a blackened fingernail against his teeth. “Some famous composer came from here a hundred years ago.There’s a big technology center, a music theatre, and the OCB state headquarters. Oh, and see the riverfront houses there?”

I squint through the setting sun to see the palatial manors sprawling against the water’s edge.

“The say Olivia Hunston lives in one of those.”

I grab the door handle to steady myself. “The omega actress?”

“Yep.”

I press against the glass as if I could spot the country’s most famous omega standing on her terraced lawns, but the bridge struts block my view and then the river is lost behind us as we dive into the city.

Every omega in the center where I was raised watched our idol Olivia Hunston with awe through all her TV and film appearances. She stands for everything we hope to be as omegas; beautiful, graceful, and most of all, loved. Olivia never appears in public with less than two members of her alpha pack, and that kind of serious dedication always made me swoon as I watched her gorgeous figure clad in the most elite designer wear sashay from one red carpet to the next.

But thinking about it now just increases the chasm of loss yawning inside me. None of that will ever be mine. Even if I managed to escape, who’s going to want a broken omega who’s been part of an underground fighting ring?

I expect to drop into another dark underground passage but instead we pull into the covered driveway of a fancy-looking hotel complete with gold luggage carts, doormen in matching red livery, and a revolving door.

Petrov points at his boss, who waits in front of the building. “Mr Groman has been generous enough to arrange for you to stay withhim. The kennels we borrow are far more cramped, so make sure you obey, or you’ll end up staying with Scar.” He laughs at his own joke—at least, I hope it’s a joke.

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