Page 48 of Defiant Beta

I wipe my sweating brow with the back of my hand. My sweat stinks. "I don’t.”

“You should, given you have that drug swimming in your veins right about now. Haven’t you wondered why you’ve got the sweats?”

“I don’t believe you.”

He takes his right hand out of his pocket, pulling with it a tiny, clear vial.

Anemptyvial.

He tilts his head as he studies the vial, as if it holds the meaning of life. “Thisis my great-grandfather’s pride and joy. A drug to trigger an omega’s heat.”

I recall the last time I heard of a drug like that. Lawrence Wentworth kidnapped Everleigh and auctioned her off before Pack Ashe rescued her. Before her rescue, someone stuck her with a needle, injecting her with drugs to induce her heat. We never figured out what the drug was or where it came from.

Now, I know.

More cold sweat dribbles down the side of my face as my world tilts ever so slightly to the right. “I’m not an omega.”

He grins at me. “You’ll be our science experiment. What happens when you give a beta a double dose of great grandpappy’s special sauce? I’d say something interesting with the way you’re sweating. Got an itch for my knot, yet?”

“You’re lying,” I whisper, searching my arms for any needle marks. I can’t see one, but it’s not normal to be this shaky and hot for no reason.

He smirks. “No. I’m not. You made it so easy. Then again, betas always are.”

More liquid drips down the side of my face.

I swipe the back of my hand across my forehead, and it comes away bloody.

I’m sweating blood.

Zach is speaking, and I’m still burning up inside as I slide down the wall and hit the floor with a thump.

He isstilltalking, words that make not a lick of sense when my teeth chatter. I start shaking and my muscles seize up.

Everything goes black for two seconds.

Then white.

Someone curses. “Shit, you gave her too much.”

“No, I didn’t. This shit only works on omegas.”

“Well, it’s doing something to this beta. She’s barely breathing.”

Every inch of my skin is on fire.

“We have to get rid of her.”

“Get rid of?—”

“My dad has a site manager who checks out this place every few days. If he finds her here, my dad will know it was me. We have to dump her.”

“Is she still breathing?”

“I don’t know. Check her pulse.”

“Me? You do it.”

“I say we dump her. If she’s not dead now, she soon will be. Look at her.”

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