Page 18 of Knot Unwanted: Part Two

Training.

The word sends ice down my spine. I know what “training” means at the Academy. The cold metal beneath my knees. The alpha voices barking orders. The?—

No. No no no?—

The van slows. Gravel crunches under the tires. My pulse skyrockets, sweat blooming along my hairline.

Too soon. It’s too soon.

A gate creaks open. The van rolls forward, then stops.

“End of the line,” the beta says.

The door slides open with a metallic shriek. Hands grab me, yanking me forward. I stumble, my knees buckling as my feet hit uneven ground. My ankle twists in the wedge heels and I’m pretty sure my dress, the beautiful dress Finn picked out for me, rips.

Finn…

My heart feels like it’s going into cardiac arrest.

I’ll never see Finn again.

“Walk.” A new voice. Female. Beta.

I don’t move fast enough.

Something hard jabs between my shoulder blades—a baton?—sending me sprawling face-first into the dirt. Pebbles embed themselves in my palms. The taste of copper floods my mouth where I’ve bitten my tongue.

Laughter rings out above me.

“Still fat and clumsy, I see.” The female beta clicks her tongue. “Widow will fix that. Oh, will she be happy to finally get her hands on you again.”

Hands haul me up. My legs shake, but I force myself to stand. To take one step. Then another.

The air changes—cooler, damp. We’re inside.

The scent hits me first: antiseptic and omega distress, so thick I gag. Memories surge?—

Strapped to a table.

Needles glinting under bright lights.

“This will help you feel better,” the beta in scrubs lied.

A door creaks open ahead. The female beta shoves me forward. My toe catches on a threshold, sending me crashing onto unforgiving tile.

The blindfold is ripped away.

I blink against the sudden light, my eyes watering. When my vision clears, I wish it hadn’t.

White walls. Stainless steel tables. IV poles with dangling bags of clear liquid.

A shadow blocks the fluorescent light. Not Veyra—someone shorter, broader. A beta.

Him.

I don’t know his name. I never saw his face. But the way his boots scuff against the tile—that uneven drag of the left heel—sends ice through my veins. I’d know that sound anywhere. The last thing I’d hear before the blindfold tightened and the needles came out.

“Well, well.” His voice slithers into my ears, that same faux-sweet tone coated in venom. “Look who came home.”

---