Chapter 2
Ten days until appeal
PHANTOM
There were very few moments these days in which I could block out reality. So few, in fact, I could count them on one hand.
That hazy moment between sleep and wake.
Basking under the spray of water in the shower.
And the very first bite of each meal.
Rich, hearty flavour burst on my tongue. Tender beef melting between my teeth. Stew just like Mama used to make.
“Fuck!”
My shoulders slumped; it never took long for the fantasy to die, and I found myself sitting on a cold metal chair in the prison cafeteria, surrounded by a dozen rowdy, grouchy packs of half-feral alphas.
My eyes refocused on the bowl in front of me, full of watered-down broth and chewy beef chunks. The meal was bland as hell, and no decadent taste lingered in my mouth.
Reality? Yeah, it sucked.
I dropped my spoon into the stew with a splash and looked up at Karma. My packmate shoved his bowl across the table, and broth sloshed up over the side.
“Those kitchen pricks.” He flipped the bird at the alpha working behind the cafeteria counter a few tables away from us.
He grinned and shrugged back, throwing up his hands in the universal gesture for ‘I dunno man, it wasn’t me.’
“Salt again?” I asked.
Karma growled, glaring at the offending soup bowl. “When I find out who ordered this, I’m beating them to a pulp in the cages.”
Hopefully we never found out, because it was probably someone powerful.
Anarchy politics were convoluted and in constant flux, but not everyone could tell the cafeteria packs what to do.
Definitely no one that Karma would get away with beating up in one of the entertainment matches he so frequently took part in.
With any luck, this was the end of his punishment; he’d suffered a week of over-salted meals already.
Sin chuckled, taking a bite of the protein bar he’d grabbed from the pantry. “Maybe if you were better at not getting on everyone’s nerves.”
Karma’s eyes narrowed, and he almost rose to the bait.
I slammed my hand down on the table to grab his attention instead. The sound was lost in the chaos of feuding packs in the large, echoing room with stone walls, but it shuddered the metal table enough that he shot me a scowl.
Tilting my head toward Sin, I raised an eyebrow at Karma. “You going with him tonight?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “Yeah. But I’ll get a fight in before his show.”
He likely needed it.
Vandle, our fourth packmate, had hit a full-blown rut. He was fully feral and had never spoken a word to any of us, but it was easy to block him out in the bond when he was closer to sanity. Now, his side of the bond battered all of us, demanding violence.
Karma didn’t have a hope of shutting Vandle out—not with his own instability. He was the closest of us to going feral too, and now was the worst possible time.
I tried really hard not to linger on that. Or the fact that we needed a miracle fairy to float down here and sprinkle us with magical ‘alpha-stabilizing dust’ if we were going to make it through our upcoming appeal.
Karma was stable six days out of seven, but he went through major feral cycles.
Vandle on the other hand—well, we’d do our best, but anything we tried seemed like the equivalent of putting a tuxedo on a rabid raccoon.
Sometimes packs got out with just one feral alpha—but two?
That would be too much of a threat to society.
That was the point of this place. The Vaults were a massive prison for the most feral alphas. But those who asked to come down to Anarchy—the floor of utter lawlessness?
I think they hoped the more ‘natural’ environment might help us rebalance. It was the only chance we had of getting out.
I’d been lucky; I’d been stable since the pack bond was formed. Karma, on the other hand, we don’t know why he was unstable in the first place. He was fighting almost every day to try and balance out his hormones, and I was getting worried about his health. But between him and Vandle…
I rubbed my face aggressively as I failed at the task: don’t think about it too hard.
“I’ll keep an eye on Vandle tonight then,” I said. It shouldn’t be long until his rut was over.
It had the added bonus of meaning I didn’t have to stand there and watch Sin’s show.
“Justin tonight, right?” I asked, side-eyeing the cocky prick.
He nodded.
Justin was the Emerald pack’s slender, sandy-haired omega.
The Emerald pack were one of our allies, though it was mainly because they enjoyed shutting Sin and their omega in a cage for a show—one that Justin enjoyed just as much as his pack did.
My eyes flicked to Sin, who was peeling the rest of the wrapper off his protein bar in his fabric-wrapped fists. We’d just gotten back from the gym.
Sin was a specimen, with deathly pale skin, blood-red eyes, and lean muscles like a carved god. He might not want to be touched, but he liked an audience, and he could perform.
“How many favours do they owe us now?” I asked, clearing my throat and scowling at the smirk on his face.
“Half a dozen…? Give or take.” He shrugged.
“They should probably catch up on their side of the bargain before you take their omega into the cage again, then,” I muttered under my breath.
He snorted, but his response was cut off by the low buzz echoing across the cafeteria.
I paused, eyebrows shooting up as I glanced over at the countdown clock on the wall beside the door.
“Well. Shit.”
All of the main exits in Anarchy looked the same: two metal doors behind which was an elevator shaft. The guards never had to face us directly, and they very rarely did. I'd never seen one in my time here.
They might all look the same, but whoever ran the Vaults had an unspoken rule about which doors were used for what, and the set that was opening now, opened rarely.
Oh god.
It meant we were being sent an omega.
The peace of the dining room was about to devolve into chaos.
Of course, omegas weren’t supposed to be here, but that didn’t stop them from tossing us a bone every once in a while. They gave us omegas they never wanted to hear from again; omegas they wanted gone without a trace. More than anything, though—omegas they wanted to punish.
Funny, though, how one seemed to appear every time a pack graduated to permanence—dweller status. As if they were encouraging it.
We didn’t know for certain how they knew when packs became permanent dwellers. I’d never seen a camera, and pack allegiances were constantly shifting down here.
But without fail, every new dweller pack got a gift…
Sure enough, the Ronan pack had missed their last member’s appeal call just days ago.
We’d all sat tensely as the three calls over the intercom had named their last pack member who had an appeal.
There was never a call that wasn’t tense. We’d not risked dying over mine, but we’d seen packs panic and split up—slaughtered by enemies or allies seeking their only chance of revenge as they tried to get out. It was a moment that every alpha with dreams of the outside, dreaded.
Had nightmares about.
But the Ronan pack had ignored it—their last chance to leave this place.
They’d chosen to become dwellers—to spend a lifetime here.
This omega was their reward.
Some poor fucker on the other side of those doors, who had no idea what was coming.
Sin stared at the door. His eyes were darker than I’d ever seen them. He hated the Ronan pack, and the idea of them claiming rights to any gift—especially one that would give them more prestige…
But when I saw who trembled beyond the opening metal doors, my hair stood on end.
“What the fuck…?”
That was no male omega. And fuck me, she was the most beautiful thing I’d seen in my life.
Her hair was tied up in a high ponytail that tumbled down to her shoulder blades. It was thick and wavy, as white as an arctic fox. Her skin was pale and deathly with terror, eyes wide, revealing golden irises that glittered clearly even from this distance.
They hadn’t just sent an omega.
They’d sent a gold pack goddess with curves on her that were heating my veins just by looking—and they’d sent her into the pits of hell to be torn apart by demons.
“A female omega?” Karma hissed. “There ain’t no way... That’s an execution, plain as day.”
My lips were parted in shock. I wasn’t alone; the entire dining room was frozen, utterly entranced.
He was right—they’d never sent a female omega.
I’d seen more than a few poor souls being forced through those doors, and to her credit, she held her back straighter than many of the others.
But she wore next to nothing. Might as well slather her in honey and drop her into a bear’s den.
My stomach twisted uncomfortably, which was a foreign sensation. This wasn’t a place where empathy could survive. Not for anyone beyond a packmate.
Despite her straight back and clenched fists, I saw the traces of tear tracks shining down her cheeks, and the way her wide eyes darted around the room, with pupils that were pinpricks of terror.
Not my business…
We should leave before this gets messy.
I managed, at last, to tear my gaze from her at the first sound of movement.
Of course, it was Holden—the Ronan pack lead—getting to his feet. He was a brute of an alpha with a strong jaw, shaggy black hair, and rough skin, littered with small scars from his time here. And right now, his eyes were fixed on the omega, a snarl of delight on his face.
I felt it from Sin in the bond and heard it in the low growl rumbling in the air between us—rising vitriol and disgust as he watched Holden make his claim.
Ah, shit.
I side-eyed Karma, who looked as on edge as I felt.
Absolutely not.
The first invisible energy of an alpha aura split the air—and not from any of us or from Holden. That was the problem—this offering, it was unspoken that the Ronan pack would stake claim, but it wasn’t absolute—nothing was here.
Rule number one of Anarchy: there were no rules.
And the rogues, the packless alphas who’d never truly found their sanity with months of shitty ruts still lingering in their system—those alphas didn’t care one bit about etiquette, or even threat. Less so with a petite piece of ass being dangled before them like this.
Packless, unanchored and still mad, one alpha made for her, and then a second aura burst out.
The collision happened before they reached her, two hulking mad beasts careening into the wall at her side. She staggered away, chest heaving, eyes darting about as if she wasn’t sure what to do.
My stomach churned, and I was still frozen. Something was… wrong with her. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.
Auras went off like dominoes. Some packs were standing up, a few with omegas of their own, ready to exit before getting caught in the mess.
I couldn’t catch her scent; it should’ve been sharp and ripe with fear by now, but it must be hidden behind blockers, like ours was. And those blockers were the only thing stopping an entirely different level of pandemonium.
At my side, Sin got to his feet.
“What are you doing?” My hiss slid over to him, meant for us alone.
“I want her,” he said simply.
I stifled my groan. “Because she’s cute, or because she’s destined for Holden?”
Sin’s grin broadened. “Both?”
Any chance to fuck Holden over, and Sin pounced. I didn’t blame him, but this—this was declaring an all out war.
“We can’t claim her,” I snarled.
“Why ever not?” Sin asked, cocking his head as he stepped over the bench.
“You know full well why fucking not!” I launched to my feet, almost crashing into the table after him.
It wasn’t just Holden. No pack would accept our claim on her. I squared Sin up, blocking his way. I was a big alpha, but only topped Sin by an inch. He tilted his head, eyes narrowed at the challenge.
I glanced at Karma, but even as I did, Sin side-stepped me, tugging his shirt off to reveal lean muscle. He had the tail of his hand wrap between his teeth, tugging it tight, as he began into the fray.
Arrogant asshole.
I tried to grab him as he stalked away. “Don’t—!”
“You gonna let him get pulverized?” Karma cut me off.
Fuck.
He’d be snapped in two without us.
Plus, leaving still felt off. Something within me was shivering with an undercurrent of urgency like I’d never felt before.
I wasn’t just following Sin because he was a fool.
That omega would be dark bonded or dead by nightfall, and there was a nagging part of my brain screaming at me that it would be… wrong.
It couldn’t happen.
“Even if we make it, we’ll be gutted by morning,” I warned.
Karma nodded his head in a so-so motion, tugging a strand of auburn hair loose from his braid. I could see the indecision on his own face as if he could feel it, too—a soul-deep resistance to leaving her behind.
There was a growl, and a horrible sound of bones snapping from the ongoing fight. Echoing it was a faint, feminine whimper.
Her fear seized me like a vise, and Karma flinched too.
Behind us, I saw Sterling, the Wakefield pack lead, and half of the Emerald pack get to their feet, eyes tracing Sin as he sauntered into the fray toward her, a perfect picture of aura-less, idiotic confidence.
Him and his fucking alliances—I don’t know how he did it, but if our allies were in, we might actually make it out alive.
I tilted my head, cracking my neck with a snort, letting the old ache of insanity rush to the forefront of my mind, blitzing away all those pesky, rational thoughts that had slowly crept back over the last few years.
Sweet, sweet release flooded my mind as my aura split the air.