Page 52 of Deadly Ties

“Kellman.” My Uncle Phillip is a rapist rat with the brains of a bath plug. He might be an alpha, but even his own brother couldn’t stand him. The one good thing my father did for our family was to cut off all contact with Phillip and banish him to Eastern Europe. Clearly, that sentence died with my father. “You’ve grown.”

Since I haven’t seen him since I was about ten, this is stating the fucking obvious. “Why are you here?” I keep my eyes off my mother, since she still hasn’t turned her head. “What do you want?”

He looks straight at Bisha, which is explanation enough, but the Head Alpha says, “Since Alpha Crouch has passed, you need a new owner. You uncle and I are considering our options.”

My mouth would fall open if I didn’t expect something exactly like this. “I’m twenty-one,” I tell him. “Two weeks ago, actually. That means I have access to my trust and whatever inheritance my father left me.”

“Precisely.” Bisha almost looks pleased we’re cutting straight to the chase. “But since you were diagnosed as mentally unfit while in my care, the trust is under the control of your mother. She is considering her options as well.”

My mom finally looks up at me, although her eyes only reach as far as my chest. “It’s best we don’t make a fuss, darling.”

My mom is a legendary Parisian beauty who was rich and famous long before she met my father. But she’s also an omega and avoids conflict of any kind. I remember thinking she looked like an elegant but untouchable doll when I was growing up. Seems not a lot has changed.

I try to ignore the cramping feeling in my chest, but Bisha and Phillip have moved on from options to haggling. “I want the London pack,” my uncle juts out his chin. “I won’t be able to hold it if you strip us of all our wealth.”

“You won’t be able to hold it without my backing, either,” Bisha reminds him. “Which I’ll give you, in exchange for all your European assets. You keep anything in Britain. I’m only interested in the continent.”

My uncle chews on that like he has any choice. “I have a lot of important contacts in the east,” he blusters. “I’ve lived there for a decade, you know.”

“And I was born clinging to it’s the underbelly.” Bisha says something to the togs standing around the table in their language and they all laugh. Probably at my uncle, although he chuckles along. Stupid fucker. “Alright,” Bisha tells him, “we will talk more about how our families can best carve up the European territories, yes?” His cold eyes slide my mom’s way. “Elizabeth might like to stay here for the discussions. See what the city has to offer Paris’ most dazzling Luna.”

My mom’s face is so still, it could be a mask. But then she slowly lifts a hand in my direction. “And my son?”

“I have a couple of local buyers, but they’ll need the pot sweetened. His reputation for violent heats is well known, unfortunately.”

“My son isnotviolent…”

Frustration burns through me;thisis what my mom objects to?

“Perhaps you’d like a demonstration?” Instead of talking to my mom, Bisha directs the comment to his togs, who all laugh and raise their glasses. Their eyes rake over me, maybe hoping I’ll squirm, but I keep my gaze on the Head Alpha. My Angel put up with this bastard her whole life; I can handle whatever shit he throws at me tonight. “He fought here once before,” he goes on. “He drew quite the crowd.”

It was after Link had claimed me and Rory has beaten the guard who’d tried to rape me. All three of my brothers had been forced to watch while I was commanded into a heat, and pitted against a local boxer. An alpha and semi-pro, I’d nearly killed myself trying to beat him, and spent a week in the infirmary spitting up blood.

“Do I get to choose my opponent?” I ask, using my plumiest accent and staring down my nose at the togs. “The last dog didn’t put up much of a fight.”

That makes them snarl, but Bisha just waves a hand and I’m dragged away. My mom rises to her feet, but doesn’t follow, and I hear her soft voice pleading with Bisha.Waste of breath, I think, but then we’re in the stairwell and headed back to the entertainment floor. The tog who punched me earlier grins in my face. “They brought in someone special for tonight. Guy’s a lone wolf, halfway to rabid, and all teeth. He’s gonna chew your pretty omega ass up.”

I ignore the taunts, the tog handing me off to another goon as soon as we get to the fight ring. The seats are mostly full, but more alphas pile in behind us, plenty of elbows and fists hitting me in the back. I’m forced towards the cage just as a shout goes up from the crowd. The air reeks of aggression and alpha. But it’s not me they’re looking at, since a fight is already underway. The omega is a bloody blur, a head shorter than his opponent, but hitting the bigger alpha with everything he has. For a while it looks like his sheer rage might carry him through, but then the alpha wraps his arms around him and lifts him off the ground. The omega roars, his teeth snapping as he tries to bite the alpha’s face. But the bigger fighter jerks forward, smashing his bony head into the omega, and the smaller guy slides to the floor, unconscious.

The crowd roars again, a mixture of bloodlust and amusement, money slapping into palms as I’m pushed forward by a tog. I block my ears to the omega slurs, insulting bets flying about how long I’ll last. My focus is on my opponent. There’s a giant guy already climbing into the cage, his back to me. He’s as big as Cam, with a shaved head and shoulders like rocks. As he folds his arms across his chest, his back pulls tight, his black sweatpants hanging of a pair of glutes that would make my mouth water in different circumstances.

Fuck, I’m dead.

The crowd seems to agree, cursing and laughing as I’m shoved through the cage door. There’s no referee; this is dirty fighting at its worst. But one of the togs leans up against the gate, shaking the metal to get my attention. “Omega! Ready to listen to your master?”

I’m about to tell him to shove his command up his ass when my opponent turns to me. He’s six-and-a-half feet of tanned muscle I’ve seen more times than I can count, but there’s barely an inch of his dirty blond hair left, and his eyes are a muddy brown instead of a pale blue. Still, it’s on the tip of my tongue to call his name when Cam gives a subtle shake of his newly shorn head. Right. So he’s the toothy, rabid, lone wolf I’m meant to fight.

Instead of waiting for the tog to command me into a heat rage, I launch across the ring at Cam. He snatches me out of the air, holding me close enough to whisper in my ear, “The guys are getting into place. We just need to give them another twenty minutes or so. Can you do that, Sunshine?”

Sunshine?I feel my entire body sag with relief, even in Cam’s iron hold. “Rory’s okay?”

“He’s pissed they doped him. And fucking furious Raptis took you. But he’s back on his feet and ready to get you out.”

I want to ask about Link and Arben, but the crowd is getting restless watching us wrestle without throwing any punches. The tog whistles, high and piercing like you’d do to a runaway dog. He rattles the cage again, then yells loud enough for all to hear: “Time to heat up, Omega!”

And damn if my heart rate doesn’t spike, a wave of hot, thick anger rolling through me. I throw Cam a desperate glance as my hands curl into fists, but he just pulls me closer. “You’ve got every reason to hit me, Kelly. Don’t feel bad about this.”

But all I feel is rage. My wolf howls under my skin, and maybe I do too, because a roar goes up from the crowd.

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