Page 8 of Pack Rivals, Part One

He takes my hand weakly, and I squeeze tight, my face neutral as I say, "I never ever want to see your face in this city again, understood?" I squeeze tighter, feeling his bones crunch under my fingers. He winces and squeals. "And don't contact Anne. I'll know if you do, and then I'll send Nate here after you."

Nate smiles at him sinisterly.

"Understood," Malcolm squeals, attempting to pull his hand free from my grip. I only squeeze it harder, until the man is moaning in pain, his knees faltering underneath him.

"Good," I say, when I'm convinced I've broken at least two fingers in his right hand. The one he used to hit his wife. He won't be hitting anyone with that fist ever again.

I release his hand and stroll from the room towards the elevator.

Nate bounces along next to me, a frown on his face.

"Why'd you do that? You know I wanted to fuck the bastard up."

"Because," I say, pointing to my perfectly unruffled suit, "look at me. I did it without staining my suit with blood."

Nate pouts at me like a puppy whose bone just got confiscated. "The blood's the best bit," he mumbles. Some days I wonder if Nate is a psychopath. Other days I'm convinced he's more puppy dog than human.

Our car's waiting out front for us and we climb into the back together.

"Omegas don't like blood," I remind him.

"There's not going to be any omegas of interest there," Nate reminds me.

I lean back against the seat.

Yeah, no omegas.

Maybe I should have Connor track that cute little beta down instead.

3

Bea

I turnup to the Hotel Alfresco an hour before the event starts to pick up my uniform and receive a quick training session from Alicia.

She's a tall older woman with an elegant short hair do and a cellphone glued to her ear. As she runs through instructions, she takes call after call from suppliers and decorators and the organizers. She also peers over her shoulder at the catering staff, shouting out orders and reminding them how long they have until the event starts.

"Tonight, it's a black-tie dinner dance in aid of the Skipton Foundation. The Foundation raises funds for abused omegas in developing countries, so expect this place to be full to the brim with alphas and omegas." She removes the napkin I'm folding from my hand, unfolds it and shows me again. "You don't have a sensitive sense of smell do you, honey, because this place is going to reek."

"Really?" I ask.

There weren't any alphas or omegas living in our hometown. And those that had presented as anything but betas back in high school had promptly disappeared. They said Joe Sample, a guy who started blasting out an alpha scent in gym class a couple of years ago, packed his bag that night and left for the city. Whitney Hughes fell into a preheat after making out with her boyfriend in his truck. They sent her off to stay with her grandma and she never came back.

I know there have been others, but I've never paid attention.

Why would I? I'm a beta. And I was head-over-heels in love with Karl anyway.

"Oh yeah. I have a few members of staff who shove cotton wool balls up their noses before the event. But if you're going to do that, honey, be discreet. These alphas and omegas are sensitive types. Especially the darn omegas." She rolls her eyes. "They claim to have superior taste buds and if the flavors aren't to their liking, it causes all sorts of dramas. I had one little princess send every single dish back last year and demand I have one of the chefs cook her something from scratch right to her liking."

"Wow, we hardly ever had anyone send food back at the diner." Alicia glares at me like I just insulted her food. "Folk were too polite I'm guessing."

"One thing you'll learn. The more money people have, the more entitled they become. You'll have to work your best smile and bestest manners tonight."

I flash her my customer-smile.

"Very good," she says, twisting a piece of hair behind my ear. "You have a pretty smile and a nice figure." Her gaze flicks down my body. I'm wearing a short black skirt, dark stockings and a white shirt buttoned up to my chin. "Beware of wandering hands, though. Especially from the older gentlemen."

"Eww," I mutter.

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