Page 4 of One Way Out

A growl that sounds more like it should come from an animal than an alpha fills the air, causing the hair on the back of my neck to stand on end. Goose bumps break out down my arms and legs, and I fight back the whine that tries to escape.

“My apologies,” the guard says as something cold and metal presses against my temple. It doesn’t take long for my brain to register that it’s a gun barrel.

We come to a stop in front of the door of the third cell.

Valor sits on the floor in the back corner of the small room with his face buried in his hands.

He iscoveredin blood.

I gasp, and his head tilts animalistically as a feral snarl radiates from his chest. He goes from sitting cross-legged to standing before I can even say a prayer that none of that blood belongs to him.

McCabe shoves me at the metal bars next to the door to the cell.

I fight against his hold, trying to back away. My instincts are whatever one step past frazzled is. It doesn’t help that there’s no recognition to be found on Valor’s face as he bares his teeth and stomps across the room, coming closer with every long stride.

My thighs clench as pure terror washes through my system. I try to settle my breathing, but my chest rises and falls in rapid pants that do nothing because it feels like there’s no air.

Valor reaches through the bars, snatches a handful of his T-shirt, that I’m clad in, and pulls so violently, my face bounces against the metal with a painful thump.

ChapterTwo

Leo

Five Minutes Earlier

There’s a haze that comes when waking up after going too long without solid sleep. I’m so out of it that I roll over and only realize I’m falling from one of the loft beds when I’m midair.

I land on my shins, which doesn’t feel great, but I’m able to catch my top half with my palms before I face-plant into the floor.

“Where the fuck is Saylor?” Shaw growls.

“Don’t do it! Do you hear me, woman? I don’t know what that fucker is up to, but he’s not your bloody friend!” The Irish accent belongs to Omen—the white-haired beta who Saylor spent several days locked in with. “Just fucking wait, I’m tossing your arse over my knee when I get my hands on you again.”

I shove myself up and grimace as Shaw does the same from the pull-out couch. He’s nude, but that doesn’t stop him from throwing himself at the beta.

Omen’s head slams to the side with a vicious crunch as Shaw sucker punches him from behind. The beta doesn’t hesitate to throw an elbow back into Shaw’s solar plexus.

Shaw grunts and staggers.

Omen rotates, throwing a punch at Shaw, who successfully ducks the hit, but it’s a small space. He stumbles into the table and uses the opportunity of being bent over to grab the chair closest to the door.

“Relax, mate!” Omen lands two hands to Shaw’s shoulder and back, shoving him away.

Shaw stumbles. He doesn’t have much space to swing, and he still slams the chair into Omen’s leg.

“Oh, you twat! You’ve banged my Achilles tendon.” The Irishman bends, rubbing the back of his ankle. “What the hell is with the cheap shots?”

Shaw growls, tackling Omen into the glass pane next to the door, and I finally get my shit together.

Saylor is missing.

Those two need to find some common ground and work together.

Omen seems to know what’s happening, which is a good thing, since I don’t have the first clue. She was in bed with Shaw the last time I hazily woke up.

Skirting around the end of the sofa, I make it to Shaw as he slams his fist into Omen’s kidney. Wrapping my forearm around my partner’s throat from behind, I drag his snarling form back until I trip over the end of the couch mattress.

“Just stop being a feral dickhead for three seconds. We need to figure out what’s happening,” I growl, rolling him under me and pinning him in place.

---