Page 95 of Feral Alphas

“What can you tell me about the light?” I ask, chewing on my pen.

“Well, it turned orange and revolved slowly to let the staff know a meal was ready. They do that instead of calling out because the kitchen is exposed to the diners.

I groan and drop my head onto the table.

“Is that bad?” he asks hesitantly.

“Not for most people, no. For Rose, absolutely. The underground arenas use a system of lights to indicate what’s happening with the dogs.” I lift my fingers to air-quote that last word.

Luka’s fist curls up on the table. “It’s orange when they’re loading the fighters into the chutes right before the match. Let’s everyone know not to approach the chutes or release any other fighters from their cells.”

Kye grows pale under his dark skin and a quiver runs through his hands. “I—I had no idea!”

I scrub my hand over my face. Every ordinary occurrence could pose a challenge for Rose. “The fact she was coherent enough to tell you what she needed amazes me.” I press my fingers into my sub’s shoulder. “Luka, go back and lie with her, just in case she wakes up. She shouldn’t be alone tonight.”

Luka nods and gets to his feet. Before he goes, he pauses by Kye’s chair. “Thanks for telling us.”

Kye nods mutely, staring at his clenched fists.

I clear my throat and get a beer out of the fridge. “Want one? I ask, holding the bottle up.

“Yeah, I think I better.”

It’s a crying shame Rose had to suffer because of his pride, but I’m glad he’s receptive. When we’ve finished analyzing his night, including teaching him to trust his senses more, and his slightest reaction to her scent changes, I broach another touchy subject.

“After this week, I’ll be on holidays. Would you like me to run through some of the rehabilitation course with you?”

He groans and presses his beer to his forehead. “I’ve got most of it, but during the practical when they lash out all wild, I kind of freeze up.”

I nod. “Yeah, the unpredictability of it isn’t like a real fight.” According to his carefully smoothed over records, he’s had a couple of those when he was younger, so I know it’s not the actual fight that’s putting him off. Maybe he lacks incentivization since he knows it’s a faked scenario.

“Maybe if I tackle you a few times, then the guys at the Alpha Center will look like pussies, yeah?”

He drops his bottle to eye me up and down. “Isn’t that a ruse to beat the crap out of me for messing up tonight?”

I grin evilly and toast him with my beer. “Maybe, but can you say I’m wrong?”

He barks out a laugh. “No, not really. I need to make this up to her, and bringing those dogs in seems like what she wants most. Not diamond rings or Italian dinners.”

“How are you paying for that anyway, if your dad cut you off?” I muse.

“Credit card.”

“Can I see your card?”

He shrugs. “Sure, I guess.”

He digs his wallet out of his pocket and slides a card across the table—platinum, of course. I hum under my breath as I carry it into the kitchen and dig the kitchen scissors out of the drawer.

“What are you—”

Snip.

Kye gasps as the two pieces fall to the countertop with a clink. For good measure, I hold his gaze and cut each half into smaller pieces.

“Frick, man! That’s crossing the line!”

Still holding the scissors, I wave one of the shards of plastic at him. “One, you can’t afford to have this or use this anymore. Your apartment income could get frozen the minute your father lodges a case against you.”

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