Page 90 of Harley & Her Ferals

I shift the heavy leather bag on my shoulder.

The bag contains medicines, bandages, and medical equipment. I’m helping River by carrying it for him, as he makes his rounds of the fighters’ dorms.

It’s one of the few tasks outside training, which I’m allowed to openly help River with for his protection.

It’s not safe for River to walk these concrete tunnels alone, which run like a labyrinth through the Underworld.

I shiver, scrunching my nose at the stench of damp and oil.

The bikers use these tunnels for racing.

Sometimes, people are hunted through the tunnels for sport.

I hate walking through the low ceilinged tunnels that are sprayed in graffiti. They are even more lawless than Dad’s territory.

Yet they are used to connect up the different areas of the Underworld.

At least with me, River is safe.

No one would touch a top fighter from the cage fights…or Don Battle’s daughter.

Yet a pretty unbonded Beta like River would be a prime target to be claimed by another pack.

River pushes his curls out of his eyes. “Plus, Laurent has a brilliant plan, hmm?”

I whispered the outline of the plan to River, without giving away just how dangerous it was in order not to worry him, as soon as I met up with him in his workshop.

He almost knocked over a tray of flowers with his excited hand gestures.

River is all in.

“In fact, our Sweet Thorn said that the basis of the plan was the same as yours,” I reply. “He praised you, saying thatgreat minds think alike.”

River looks bewildered, unsure how to reply.

He’s unexpectedly shy. “La mia rose isn’t wrong.”

My stomach growls.

I grimace. It’s almost lunchtime. I hope that this doesn’t take long.

Yet River is meticulous and caring in his role as a medic.

He doesn’t only tend to the fighters’ physical needs, which he’s tasked with, but also their mental ones as well. No one else gives a fuck about those.

Yet by River taking those ten minutes longer with each of his patients, sitting at their narrow cots in the communal dorms and chatting with them, rather than coldly rushing them out, he allows them to talk about anything they want.

Some talk about their friends who have died in the cage fights and who they’ve barely had time to grieve. Others talk about the pressures and anxiety of their training or not being allowed to match with the person they love.

Most are desperate for someone to simply show that their needs are even noticed.

That they matter.

River knows how that feels.

He tries to give the fighters what they’re denied by the system down here, in the same way that he does for the Beta servants.

By working as his assistant, despite being the boss’ daughter, I attempt to do my best to do that as well.

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