Page 96 of Step Alpha

So, maybe that’s the answer.

That’s what I need to tell her.

I have to apologize for having my head up my ass and explain that I want her as-is. I’ll take Rayne the Runt with her supposedly defective genes and her omega status.

Hanging onto that thought is the only way to make it through the game. I move robotically, call the plays, watch the game, but in my mind, I’m already with Rayne.

I’m celebrating everything she is–a small but infinitely powerful presence. Far stronger than I am. Far clearer. Far more balanced. Rayne sees things other people don’t see. She’s kindness and acceptance to everyone, even after the way she’s been treated.

I allow the team to excel in the second half of the game, downright slaughtering the other team by the fourth quarter. The guys grin as they score touchdown after touchdown.

With two minutes left on the clock, I challenge them to get one more.

The crowd is rowdy–chanting and cheering.

I turn to scan the bleachers. I don’t know why I’m looking for Rayne. She made it clear she was leaving. Said her mom would pick her up.

I spot her human friend, Lincoln, and his twin sister up in the back.

I see my buddies Austin, Cole, and Bo have come up from Tempe. Sloane and Bailey are with them, along with Slade.

The sight of Bailey makes my chest ache all over again for Rayne. She should at least be with her friend right now while she’s upset, not home alo–

Suddenly, I take in two figures sitting in the middle of the crowd.

My dad and Leslie.

Which means…

Rayne didn’t get a ride home.

I tip my head back, barely stopping myself from letting out a full-on wolf howl in front of the humans from the other team.

Rayne–my gorgeous, darling female–is somewhere out there alone.

* * *

Rayne

I wake to the smell of mold and cleaning solution and soap. It takes a huge effort to unstick my eyelids and get my eyes open. I’m in some kind of cheap motel room, with my wrists tied together above my head and high heels on my feet.

High heels?

I lift my head to squint at my feet. It takes huge effort–my muscles barely work. My head weighs as much as my mom’s Subaru.

There’s a large bed pillow under my calves and–yes–I’m wearing a pair of stilettos.

Not just any pair.

TheManolo Blahniks.

The ones I sent to Footlover352.

As things click together in my mind, a surge of adrenaline runs through me, giving me the strength to try to tug at my arms. I can’t break free, though. I’m too weak. The knots are too strong.

I listen for any sound but don’t detect anyone else in the room. There’s no breathing or movement. I look at the clock beside me. It says twelve o’clock. Is that twelve noon or midnight? I can’t tell with the blackout shades drawn.

How long was I out?

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