Page 55 of Feral Alphas

A hiss escapes me as I slide into the driver’s seat and skim through my calendar. Luka had therapy today, which explains how he was able to leave the house in the first place. But even if he had help, he’s not ready to be on his own out in the world.

The Bureau might have my badge, but they didn’t take my staff card which means I still have access to the systems. And Rose’sdeclaration today has given me ample excuse to be logging into the portals.

I mentally add ‘find Luka’ to my list of steps required to create my happy family—bumping it to the priority lane.

Chapter twenty-two

Luka

I pivot from one foot to the other, waiting for the men’s shelter to open. Over thirty people stand in line, and their mixed scents slap at me as the wind rises. Rain’s coming. An alpha missing half an arm bumps into me and I dig my hands into my trench coat and hunch, counting my breathing to keep the rising panic at bay.

I did the right thing. The good thing. And I need all the karma I can get. I turn the volume of my earpods up, trying to block out the chattering voices. I got through group therapy alright, with the handful of ex-crims who are moving on with life.

Most of them have jobs now, and a few have packs. One of the guys is even studying at university to become a lawyer, saying there’s plenty of alphas who don’t get proper representation in the judicial system. And he’s right. Law likes to slam alpha cases shut quick as they can and move on.

Good on these lads for making something of their lives. Maybe I cut myself short by not forcing myself out into the world before now. Colt says my control is perfect, and I know that’s his way of reassuring me I’m not going to lose my head again. I have to hold onto that belief now.

The gates creak open and the line shuffles forward slowly, each man getting his ID logged before going inside. It’s a bit of a risk coming here because they keep records, but places like these aren’t on the cloud yet. So long as I only stay one or two nights, it shouldn’t be a problem.

Not that I expect Colt to come looking for me when I blatantly subbed out. Plus, he’ll know he needs this for the sake of his omega. I can make the hard choice for him.

The staff member covers a yawn. “ID please.”

I pull my card out of my wallet and flash it without letting go of the plastic rectangle, even when he pulls it closer to peer in the gloom. Luka Nesters. That’s who the world thinks I am. The new name Colt gave me.

He side-eyes my ink-covered hands. “Any fighting and you’ll be thrown out. Head inside, Luka.”

I nod and step through the doorway. As the unfamiliar walls close around me my old instincts surface in a flash. Two exit points. Staircase to a mezzanine floor offering the most protection from a bullet spray. The ducted air vent makes a secondary point.

I fight down the urge to alpha up as a man gazes at my backpack. Instead I turn away and walk between the rows of military cots with rolled-up blankets to find a place between two betas who are too weak to kill me in one blow. One is so sloshed he’s got more alcohol in him than a wine cellar, and the other man has a hunch in his back. Could be faked, if he’s stashing valuables there, but his face is wizened with age and hard living.

After claiming a cot, I sit with my backpack between my feet and count my breathing. In for ten, hold for six, out for ten. Having my back exposed as the crowd swirls around to find the empty bedsmakes my lips curl back in a silent snarl. The edges of the room ripple and I close my eyes to steady myself, which ends up being far worse because then I can hear them all coming at me.

I’ve snapped the hair tie on my wrist three times before I even realize I still have it on. No, that’s a lie. I thought about leaving it under the note, but I couldn’t do it. Turns out this old broken bastard is a sentimental fool after all, and I didn’t want to leave my last link to Colt behind.

The guy with the hump wheezes like he’s got something infectious and winks at me when I glance his way. “Life’s great, isn’t it, codger? Free accommodation at the Grand Romdine.”

I snort. So grand I can feel the fleas biting already. At some point I’ve started rocking, trying to ward off the shaking sensation rising through my bones, but it’s a losing battle. A guy walking past kicks his toe on my cot leg and stumbles toward me.

Jugular, eyes, crotch, throat. All his weak points flailing right open. How easy it would be to end his snuffling noises forever.

I snatch up my bag and race for the open doorway; the tiny moon of a streetlight beyond flickering like a beacon of dying hope.

“Doors close in an hour!” the guy checking IDs yells at me as I streak past. Misty rain blows across the street as I turn down the sidewalk, gasping for air. There’s a church a few doors away and I clutch at my chest as I hear the melodic sounds of a choir. The main doors sit open an inch so I slip into a seat at the rear, gripping my backpack straps with my full strength.

The choir’s practicing, and their leader stops them several times to perfect a high note and then a key change. There’s a couple of teenagers in the group, but apart from the odd shuffle of feet, no one complains about the do-overs.

Easy to do-over a song. Not so much a life.

By the time they’ve perfected the hymn and moved onto the next, my heartbeat’s steadied. A few songs later and I feel like I can breathe again. It’s not as if I can sleep in the church, but maybe alone in an alleyway is better than that sardine can of a shelter.

I lean forward with my arms on the pew in front and let my mind drift, thinking of nothing and everything at the same time. As far as do-overs go, I had a great one. I got real lucky the surgeries put me back together after the Arsenic Brothers tried to beat me to a pulp in prison, and thenhecame along and gave me a fresh start. Or tried to.

“Luka.”

I’m even hearing his voice now, as if my thoughts have created the real thing.

“Stand up, Luka Nesters.”

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