Page 185 of Harley & Her Ferals

“Was I talking about stage fright?” He bares his teeth.

I love a fierce Omega.

Laurent is scanning the faces of each of the Alphaholes who are sitting at the tables and drinking champagne. He is studying them like he’s memorizing them for his future revenge.

With what I now know of Laurent, I’m certain that he’ll find a way to take down these men who bet on the pain of the fighters in the Underworld.

Below us, the warehouse has been divided into the Nine Pits of Hell: nine small octagons.

Each octagon cage has been made even more dangerous because there is barely the space to fight without being thrown against the barbed wire sides.

Extra weapons have been strewn on the floor: bottles, bricks, and short iron bars.

For this first round, nine fights will take place at once.

Nine fights to the death.

Dad has made sure that they will be more brutal than normal.

Yet nine competitors won’t get through to the next round tomorrow night.

With the size of the octagons and the added weapons, no matter how much their packs attempt to heal those who survive, some won’t be able to stand, let alone fight again so soon.

All the fighters are outside the cages, waiting for the start of the round to be announced. They’re warming up, focused and attempting to ignore the audience.

They’re the strongest fighters from each pack. But their terror is obvious.

They’ve also been chosen to be sacrificed.

I scrunch up my nose at the scent of blood and sweat.

Yet because of the large ventilators, which suck out both pheromones and scents to stop them affecting fighters, I can’t smell my men (even Laurent), and it makes me uneasy.

At least I can feel them through the bond. Only, it’s their fear that I can sense.

Sadness.

We all know that this may be the last time that we see each other.

Suddenly, I sense that Laurent and I are being intensely watched.

When I glance down, I find myself staring into a pair of midnight green eyes.

Painful longing stabs through the bond.

Harbinger.

He’s standing in front of the cage, which is next to Feral’s.

He looks as gorgeous as the first time that I saw him with his sun-kissed skin and athletic shoulders.

More so.

Because this time he’smyAlpha.

My Wolf.

He’s only dressed in black shorts. His hair is tied back from his face with bone-white ribbons.

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