Page 23 of Captured
“Considering you barely managed to catch me, maybe you should stick to the basics. Your reputation might get hurt if anomegamanages to slip past you.”
His lips flattened into a thin line even as she mentally kicked herself for letting her mouth get away from her. She wanted to lull him into thinking she was coming peacefully so she’d have a better chance of getting away, not tip him off that she still had plans to escape.
Flea thought he was going to say something back, but after a moment of strained silence he only reached for her cuffs before striding along the sidewalk they were following once again. Gritting her teeth to keep back the flood of words that wanted to spill, she let him drag her along. She had to get a grip on herself and figure out how to trick him into letting her go.
It took a few blocks before she finally had an idea as her eyes landed on a blue water drop on the side of the building ahead of them. They were close enough to the support that if she could lose Gra’ar for just a few minutes, she might be able to make it there and head down to the next level. She wasn’t close enough to the stash she’d left on this one, but the one on the level below was near enough for her to make it, and with supplies she had a better chance of staying free.
Faking a dry cough, she made an exaggerated swallow when the alpha’s dark head turned to look at her.
“You still haven’t given me any water, and we’ve been walking for a while. Since we’re passing by the recycler anyway, can we stop for a drink?”
She widened her eyes, trying to look as pathetic as possible as his brow lowered.
“The rations quell thirst. You’ll be fine till we get to the Collection Center.”
“Maybe that works for alphas and betas, but omegas need more fluids. I haven’t had any in days, and it’s still a long walk to Fourth-Level. You can’t expect me to make it that far with no fluids.”
Her voice rasped, sounding harsh to her own ears. She wasn’t above playing the dynamic card when she needed to, and he had no way of knowing when she’d last gotten water.
Gra’ar’s eyes trailed over her, seeming to take in the sweat beading her brow. His nostrils flared and he let out a huff before looking around.
“And I suppose you know where the recycler is?”
His gaze was suspicious when it landed back on her. Ducking her head, she gave a small nod before pointing to the picture on the wall. Giving him the information to find it himself should help ease his suspicions.
“The blue water drops show which direction to turn to get to it.”
He looked where she pointed before letting out a grunt. She let the smallest bubble of satisfaction grow as he turned to tug her along the path toward the bridge they had to cross to get there. A shudder passed through her as she stared into the darkness below, but she shoved it aside and focused on thinking of the best reason to get him to unlock the cuffs.
The area around them remained silent as they approached the recycler, no sounds echoing through the gloom to suggest there was anyone else but them on the level. It wasn’t until they stepped out into the courtyard in front of it that she realized the hum of machinery was missing.
Heart skipping a beat as the first alpha stepped from the shadows, Flea turned her head to find two more dropping from the roof behind them. As they closed in, bloodshot eyes almost glowing in the gloom, metal bars swinging from their fingers, she had to wonder for a moment if she’d led them to their deaths. She was usually smart enough to spot an ambush before she was in it.
The tattoo on the arm of the one ahead caught her eye, and she realized it was worse than a simple run-in with a pack of alphas. These men were part of Deacon’s gang, the alpha who’d been hunting her before she ended up in the Collection Center, and she knew what would happen if they got their hands on her. When she’d left they hadn’t been in this section, but it seemed more things had changed in her time away.
Heads tipping back to scent the air, the two alphas behind them focused on her, gapping grins spreading across their faces and exposing the rotting stumps of teeth broken from their mouths. She didn’t even notice when Gra’ar dropped her wrists, his wings flaring as he turned to be able to see the threat from both sides. The ones who’d dropped from the roof were spreading out so the three males could come at him from different directions, trying to force him into a corner.
“Go to the corner and stay there.”
Gra’ar’s words were calm and quiet, as if he wasn’t facing terrible odds. As big as the alpha was, he was still only one against three, and while the males facing him showed signs of addiction, none of them were as lost to it as the one who’d chased her. They were still capable of coordinating and taking him down together. He didn’t even have a weapon.
Flea glanced around, taking in the layout of the courtyard. The alley they’d come down that the two now blocked ended, with a new one opening from the opposite corner, but the first alpha held himself there to bar their way. The building to their back formed two of the walls around the open space, the corner where it turned clearly where he meant her to go, and where the other alphas were trying to force him.
She eyed the two-story wall, knowing there was no way for her to get up it with her hands bound. She wasn’t going to stand there and wait for the victor to claim his prize.
Darting around Gra’ar’s half-spread wing, Flea ran straight across to the corner of the opposite building. The roof was lower on one side and there was a pile of debris against the wall that could help her, but it was still going to be difficult without the use of her hands.
Growls followed her, golden eyes catching hers for a moment once she turned to press her back to the stone. Gra’ar pulled his attention to the threats facing him, but the other alphas were still staring after her.
The nearer one tipped his head back again, nostrils flaring on a nose that had to have been broken multiple times. Lank hair dangled from his scalp and down his back, the dim lighting doing nothing to hide the lack of basic hygiene. He smiled at her, taking a step closer until Gra’ar’s sudden movement jerked his gaze away.
The roar Gra’ar released as he lunged toward the alpha was deafening. It froze the others in place long enough for him to reach the middle one, wrapping long fingers around the grimy male’s neck, but the other two shook off their immobility. Closing the space between them, the one who’d blocked the path ahead swung his metal pipe, Gra’ar barely folding his wing in time to turn and take the blow on his shoulder instead of the wounded limb.
Flea trembled in place, the sudden engagement of the four males mesmerizing. Her brain screamed at her to move, to run, to dosomething, but her feet stayed rooted in place, breath coming in quick pants as her belly tightened.
Snarls reverberated through the courtyard, making it sound like more than four males were fighting. It was loud enough to scare off almost anyone in the lower levels, except perhaps someone crazy enough to come looking for scraps when it was over. None would care about her other than to question if they could take her themselves.
Gra’ar was a whirl of motion, every limb striking out when the opportunity presented, but the three males attacking him were landing just as many blows with their weapons. Even when Flea heard the snap of bone and one of the gang members dropped to their knees with a scream, cradling an arm bent in the wrong direction, the blows just kept falling on the dark alpha.
