Page 191 of Harley & Her Ferals

This is a savaging.

Feral is tearing out his opponent’s throat.

I stiffen.

The crowd is going wild.

Finally, Feral allows Knot King to fall to the floor.

Feral looks like a warrior god, as he wipes his hand over his bloody mouth, daubing the true blood over the fake paint on his chest.

He turns to the crowd. Defiantly, he raises his chin and roars.

The Alphas in their suits pale.

“Feral did it.” I nudge Laurent to open his eyes. “He’s fucking won.”

Laurent opens his eyes.

“My Champion!” He calls down.

Feral turns in the cage, glancing between Laurent and me.

He didn’t even need the other Alpha to be weakened by the drugged water. It hadn’t kicked in yet.

Feral is the uber Alpha in this room. And everyone knows it.

The moment that Feral is let off Dad’s leash, nobody can doubt that they should watch out.

And Feral is my Alpha.

I don’t know that this is the message Dad was intending to send tonight.

“Wait,” Laurent pales, “why aren’t the fighters looking weaker yet? Is Harbinger…?”

Panicked, we both scramble to the other side of the birdcage to be able to see Harbinger’s fight better.

Shit, it isn’t going well.

Harbinger was already in bad shape before it began. He’d clearly had fractured ribs, he’d been limping, and his back was covered in welts.

He must have spent the last nine days in the Discipline Cells.

How hard will it be to fight in this state?

Harbinger is still doing his best.

Hit Man swings the iron bar like it’s a bat. It cracks into Harbinger’s already bruised ribs with a precision that means Hit Man is aiming at his opponent’s weaknesses.

I wince.

Harbinger barely reacts, however, merely staggering back a step.

Harbinger swaggers around the octagon like he owns it.

“Is that all you’ve got?” He taunts Hit Man. “Did you bore your victims to death?”

He has balls.

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