Chapter 9
brYLEE
Smash.
The door at the top of the stairs rattles as someone collides with it in the distance. I’m startled into smacking my head against the pole that I’m bound to. My skull bounces off like a volleyball, and I lift my hand to clutch it.
Dammit!
A sharp sting radiates down the sides of my head, joining with the swelling on my cheeks to make my whole face pulse in agony.
Inhaling sharply, air sucking between my teeth, I focus on the door to my room as it swings open, and light spills down the stairs behind, making them look like jagged teeth.
Boots clatter on the steps. Alphas pour down in a hurry, shoving one another to get inside.
An eclipse of moths batters the inside of my ribs, desperate to break free. They’re fluttering up in a panic, stirring my heart and pulse into frantic, rippling surges.
I have to be careful.
Otherwise, this plan could go very, very wrong for me.
Maybe I’m an idiot.
This might have been a terrible idea.
After all, this plan doesn’t just hinge on my training from Eros, though the omega scent bomb definitely inspired shoving my panties into that vent.
My inspiration actually springs from a lecture Madame Ellora gave us, of all people.
Her narrowed eyes, pencil skirt, and sleek bob come to mind as I recall her nasal tone. “Never, ever pit your alphas against one another. Particularly when you’re in need. More than one alpha group has been rushed to the hospital…”
Bile singes my throat, and I swallow it down as a flurry of Noth soldiers cascades down the stairs. Black uniforms and feral faces fill my line of sight.
They’re definitely in an alpha frenzy based on their wide-eyed, teeth-baring expressions. And they’re all armed.
The wave of scent that hits my nostrils makes me recoil. It’s potent, tainted, as disgusting as wild boar musk. A gag makes my tongue flinch, and I have to fight off the urge to truly vomit.
Not a single scent among them appeals to me.
My feet curl into my body automatically, the omega instincts driving me to make myself small in reaction to their uninhibited aggression. It’s the opposite of everything I’ve trained for at Eros, and humiliation melts a bit of my pride like it’s made of bloated plastic.
But at Eros, I didn’t face an entire roomful of pheromone-riddled alphas at once. Most of my drills have been single combat. And even group fights were neutral. Restrained.
Practice and reality are different beasts.
The Noth alphas’ combative energy blasts out like heat from a furnace, singing my skin.
Noxious.
Loathsome.
Terrifying.
Blowing out breaths in tiny pulses, I have to fight the desire to hug my chains to myself. Hands trembling, fingernails carving crescents into my palms, I dredge deep to find enough mettle to speak.
“I need an alpha who fights for me.”
The words are barely a breathy whisper.
Fuck.
I don’t think they heard me.
My head is throbbing, and my chest feels like it got mule-kicked as desperate tears blaze in the corners of my eyes.
Longing billows through me. I want to be held more than anything in the world right now. To sob into Ridge’s broad chest. Have Colter wrap his arms around me—
But I have to say it again. Now, before these alphas grab me.
Two of them are closing in. Their dark eyes are shadowed by furrowed brows, and they gulp down my scent like it’s aerosolized gold.
I swallow hard.
Then I shout, “I need an alpha who fights for me. I need a mate who proves he can protect me from all the others. I need the strongest man alive.”
For a split second, everything pauses.
The alphas on the top of the stairs stop walking. The ones nearest me—”Ryan” and a tall man with a shaved head—drop their jaws wide.
Then they grimace, teeth grinding as they glare at me.
A quiver shakes my spine, and dread glides like melting ice down the sides of my face.
“I need one of you. But only one.”
Then…my eyelids close, and I let out a deliberate whimper.
An animalistic growl erupts from just in front of me.
My shoulders fly up to my ears, and I scrunch even smaller, my pulse a spinning blur of panic.
Oh no. Nonononono.
They’re going to attack!
Ellora was wrong.
My mind splinters into fragments, scrambling to protect itself from what’s about to come.
The room disappears from my line of sight.
Just wavers and then it’s gone.
Boom.
Crack.
Smash.
I rip my eyelids apart to see the Noths fighting. The two men in front of me wield guns, circling each other like cowboys in a showdown. Their dire grins are too intense, so I stare past them, where two men roll across the floor. Punching and grunting, they each struggle to get the upper hand.
To the right, one guy shoves another up against the wall. Holding on to the pinned man’s collar, the balding Noth throws a series of punches that empathy and familiarity make me feel. I’ve been on the receiving end of that kind of beating far too often at Eros.
But when the alpha taking the beating tries and fails to block another punch, a tiny ping goes off in my head because I know how to counter that move.
It makes me unclench the tiniest bit. Feel slightly less overwhelmed. It helps me regain my confidence.
Behind that pair, off the side of the staircase, one body lies face down in a pool of blood. Shoved to his death.
My hand flies up to my mouth, and I expect a squeamish splurge of bile. But it doesn’t come. Instead, I only get a grim sense of satisfaction.
Does that make me twisted? Or sane?
This was my plan, after all. These are the expected consequences.
I wanted them to rip each other limb from limb.
And honestly?
These fucks deserve worse.
If my mates were here, they’d chop them into bits. They’d pluck out every eyelash one by one. Use pliers to slowly peel each nail from its bed. They’d heat spikes and shove them into every orifice until these fucks resembled living voodoo dolls…
My perfume grows stronger.
Glancing down, I realize that my violent fantasy about my mates has pebbled my nipples. Made my breasts heave.
Shit.
Apparently I really like the idea of watching my men turn into vicious monsters on my behalf.
But, I mean, what girl doesn’t want her guy to bring her enemy’s head to her on a platter?
Roars, growls, and wild bays erupt as the stronger, sugary scent of me reaches the noses of all the alphas in this hellhole.
The two cowboys howl and start to shoot. Bullets bite wildly, zinging into walls and pipes, aim forgotten, alpha pheromones squeezing these soldiers’ brains down to singular cells with a singular purpose.
Claim me.
Shivers of anticipation and fear rollick my bones as my gaze darts around them.
On the threshold of the stairs, Pedro has another alpha in a headlock. The other man is two steps lower, his hands scrabbling at the chokehold. His wheeze carries all the way across the room to me, as does Pedro’s flinty stare.
The unhinged mercenary shouts, “You see me! I don’t even need a weapon.”
My teeth grind when I see he’s got the upper hand on someone. If there’s anyone I want to see the life get slowly squeezed from, like a python hugging its prey, it’s Pedro.
Him.
I refuse to grant him the time of day, to acknowledge his prowess. Deliberately, I swing my gaze away from him.
Against the wall, the bald Noth cracks the other’s neck. The man on the wall slumps, head drooping like a flower with a broken stem as baldie drops him, turns, and then stomps forward.
He yanks his weapon from its holster and ten-rings Ryan.
I swallow as the back of Ryan’s skull splinters like a jam jar, and his brains burst out in a soggy red gush. His body spills onto the floor.
The bald man grins at me.
But then his left eye blasts open, peeled apart like an orange, blood splattering onto my skirt as his face collapses. He tips forward—no longer a man, just a hunk of meat that drops to the ground.
Pedro glides down the stairs with a little skip in his step, his teeth clenched into a smile that sears my very soul. “Well, well, little siren. This is a fun little game. But now that I’ve won, you can bet I’ll collect.”