Page 2 of One Way Out

My hands fist, and I do my best to force away the fear.

Valor is an alpha.

Alphas are predators.

He’ll be able to scent my terror, and it will only intensify his primal reactions.

My heart beats so violently, I can feel my pulse in my ears.

I’m not sure how it took me this long to remember, but I still smell like Shaw.

This has the potential to go so badly.

McCabe stops in front of a door on the right side of the hallway and turns to face me. “Last chance to back out.”

“Will they release us if he bonds me?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.

I’m feeling really underdressed and vulnerable.

“They won’t euthanize him,” McCabe says flippantly. “Although, those blokes who got themselves locked up just to rescue you might have something to say about it.”

My stomach drops.

He’s not wrong.

They’ll understand… I hope they will, anyway.

I mean, I would come for them if they were rabid. There are life-or-death consequences if I don’t act.

It could also mean your death if you do.

I’d like to believe Valor won’t hurt me, but what if that’s just his body in there—like his mind is completely gone, and whatever is left is just baser-level reactions.

Goose bumps erupt on my skin as I try to settle my breathing.

What if he really is lost?

Is there a chance I could come face-to-face with a rabid alpha who doesn’t even recognize me?

I can handle rough sex and a claiming bite, but what if he’s so far gone that he tries to kill me?

McCabe said he murdered the prisoners he was put in with.

Could that be me?

I’ve always been stubborn.

A huge part of me wants to believe that we have some deep connection that wouldn’t allow for that. Another pragmatic piece of my brain says that we barely know each other, and he did something scary enough to get put in here.

When I offered to help get him and Omen out if they protected me, he specifically said he was locked up for a reason.

My lower lip rolls through my teeth as McCabe watches me.

I should probably take this opportunity to kick him in the balls for helping the awful doctor give me the injection that forced me to answer her questions during intake.

“Come on,” the guard says, giving me a look I can’t quite decipher. “I’ll take you back to your cell.”

Could I really do that, knowing what they plan to do?

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