Page 30 of Harley & Her Ferals

My brother’s wounded gaze meets mine.

My sister scrutinizes me with a ruthless expression.

They’re both going to fight for this.

Dad has transformed us into enemies in a single move.

I square my shoulders. “You trust me to win for you in the cage. I’ll prove how strong I am. I can do this. You won’t regret choosing me as your heir.”

I have three days to prove that true.

This contest is everything.

CHAPTER FOUR

Training Room, Battle House, The Alpha Underworld

“An heir contest,” River says with a bright excitement. His voice is melodious with a smooth Italian accent. “Wow, bella, you’ll be a mafia princess. I’ll need to remember to bow. Or should I kneel?”

“Shut up.” I grin, launching my wet sponge at River’s head.

He laughs and dodges.

“Bad luck. Missed.” River flicks water at me from his own bucket.

I splutter with laughter, covering my face in defense. “Respect your future leader.”

“When am I ever respectful?” River puffs out his chest with typical bravado.

Then he bounces to his feet, spinning on the spot, despite the fact that the chore of cleaning the training room floor isn’t finished yet.

I’m helping him before my practice begins with Coach Romilly. Feral and I pitch in as often as we can. Allegra finds fault with River’s chores in order to punish him.

I wonder if Allegra is as hard as she is on both River and Feral because she resents these men who have been brought into our pack.

She’s the type of possessive Omega and daughter who wants all of her Dad’s attention as her own.

She’d have been happy as an only child.

I bet that she’d love it if Dad kicked even Lionzio and me out of the pack.

The training room is like a concrete box without windows. It’s lit on the ceiling by glowing violet lights.

Shelves on the wall are stacked with heavy weights, jump ropes, and punching bags. The opposite wall has been transformed into indoor rock climbing in order to improve the fighters’ grip strength.

River hums his favorite Jin song, as he dances around the gym mats like they’re a dance floor, rather than an arena for fighters to beat the shit out of each other.

He’s smiling.

What would it take to make him stop?

Except, I know.

Allegra.

Dad.

And if he’d heard what had been said about him yesterday morning around the dining table, my brother.

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