Chapter 5

My life has turned to crap, and I don't even understand why. On the plus side, I haven't been attacked or violated yet. On the downside, I'm not dealing with the world's brightest criminals.

They don't seem to understand that I'm not Lyra.

They also haven't worn masks or kept me blindfolded to prevent me from being able to identify them. Well, not until they shoved me into this freaking trunk.

Blindfolding me now feels like a terrible sign for my long-term sustainability. They should have done it when they initially snagged me if they ever intended to let me live.

I've spent days studying their faces and memorizing their voices.

Sadly, them leaving me here to die feels like a real possibility, considering I've been in here for five or more hours, based on my estimate alone. Except, I'm a female omega, and we go for high prices on the black market. I think it's much more likely they're planning to sell me, since I don't have any of the information they're after.

I grunt, struggling against the binds around my wrists and ankles.

A few years ago, I watched a show that included ways to know you were about to die. When freezing to death is a concern, it said shivering was actually a good thing. It's when you suddenly get warm that it's time to worry.

At least, I think I'm remembering that correctly.

I went from being so hot, I felt like I was going to pass out to being so cold, my entire body shivers.

If I can get out of here and find a gun, I think I could bring myself to kill someone if necessary.

I'm only twenty-one years old.

Dying in a trunk because I was mistaken for my sister is not how I want to go out.

The waves of panic I experienced when they first shut me in here are long gone. Resignation and determination took panic's place what feels like hours ago.

Now I'm just genuinely pissed.

I've never experienced true claustrophobia before.

Sure, I avoid the tiny elevator in my apartment building, but that's because it creaks when you use it.

Omegas like confined spaces and being able to burrow and nest. Those jerks better not have permanently ruined nesting for me. It's one of my favorite things. I love snuggling up with a soft blanket and lots of pillows.

I don't even know who to be angry with. I'm still confused about why they want Lyra in the first place, and I have no idea who Sparrow Cavanaugh is.

I've vaguely been able to put together that Sparrow was Lyra's roommate who was going by a different name, but I still don't know why my sister left Vegas.

Let alone what happened to her roommate after she did.

They shoved me into this trunk during mid-afternoon. It has either really cooled off if it's still daylight, or I've been in here for so long that day turned into night.

Violent tremors shake through my entire body as I try to wiggle my toes. I'm freaking barefoot. I've read that if you lose a single toe, you have to relearn how to walk.

What a nightmare.

I try to focus on the burning hatred I feel and not the fact I feel like I might freeze to death. My best guess is that my system isn't regulating my temperature properly since they haven't fed me in days.

I have no idea what comes next, but I do not want to die in this trunk.

"Jesus fucking Christ," a dangerous-sounding voice says. My entire body jolts. I think I was about to pass out from hypothermia. I attributed the noise and chaos to hallucinations. I wonder if that's what this is. Maybe I'm already dead. "Get an emergency blanket."

I scream, fighting against the restraints, but it's futile.

The skin around my wrists and ankles doesn't even hurt anymore, but I know it was bloody and raw before my nap.

The clicking whoosh of a knife being opened only makes me fight more violently.

"Shh, you're okay," the same male voice says very close to my ear. "I'm going to cut these off and get you out of here. You're safe."

Hardly.

Does he actually think those words are going to put me at ease?

Because they don't.

I scream, struggling against the bindings with every ounce of energy I've got.

They shoved me in here as I begged and pleaded with them not to.

Why would they treat me any better this time around?

"She's going to jerk at the wrong time, and you'll take her damn hand off," another voice says. The trunk sinks as someone puts weight on it. Gloved hands wrap around my wrist, pushing me against the mat that lines the trunk. "Go on, Gunner, I've got her secure."

There's a clicking sound as the plastic is cut away from my wrists. My hands are still held in place, though. Maybe it's the same guy, or it could be the other, but someone pins my legs down as they repeat the process.

My instincts are torn.

Part of me thinks I should be pathetic and beg them not to hurt me. But the angry side screams that I should fight like hell.

Fabric brushes my skin as I'm lifted from the trunk.

"Chill the fuck out," the second voice says close to my ear. My head slams back, and I connect with what I think is someone's face. I kick wildly, trying to aim for the guy's balls. "Motherfucker, I think she broke my nose."

"Damn. She got you good, Maverick," the first voice says. I guess that one belongs to Gunner—whoever that is.

"Put me down," I snap, scratching at the arm wrapped around my middle. "I've told you before. I don't know anything about Sparrow Cavanaugh! You wanted my sister, but you got me! This is all a big mistake!"

"You're feisty for being half-dead." Warm breath fans over my neck as Maverick speaks. "Fine. Give it a shot on your own, but don't bitch at me when you end up flat on your face because your legs can't hold you up."

My feet hit the cold and unforgiving concrete as I rip off the blindfold.

I probably shouldn't have done that. If I see their faces, that makes me a liability, especially since I don't recognize these voices as the men I've seen previously. They've also never used names where I could hear them.

My gaze drops to the ground as I shake out of the gloved hands trying to keep me steady.

"Here, take this," Maverick says.

I spin toward the noise and gasp, stumbling back.

My eyes bug as I squeeze my thighs together to keep from pissing myself. Having an accident would be the icing on my crap-cake of a day.

That's terrifying.

At first, I think it's his face, but after blinking repeatedly, it's clear it's a mask—a black wolf face, but it's more like the skull of a wolf with razor-sharp teeth.

I stumble back toward the other guy, and he's also in a mask. It's silver and fashioned like a skull but with black lining the bones. He's also got one of those assassin hood things on. Hell if I know, but my high-school friends were obsessed with that video game where you could jump into the hay carts. That coat with the hood reminds me of that aesthetic. They've both got tactical vests on, and I'm so overwhelmed, my system screams to run.

"Are you going to take the blanket?" Wolf Mask asks from behind me. I'm pretty sure that one is Maverick, and the one who could pass for an assassin is Gunner.

The two massive dogs whine and chuff, coming closer. I heard them scratching at the trunk before the guys popped up to let me out, but I thought it was part of the dream I was having.

My gaze darts around, and I spot even more people coming in our direction.

I'm so frazzled that I take off without a backward glance. My legs wobble, and I'm mostly in a staggering crouch for the first few feet, but I catch my stride. This feels like life or death consequences if I don't get myself out of this mess.

"Well, fuck." I think that was Skull Guy—Gunner—the one in the assassin hood.

"Motherfucker, how does she even have the energy left to run?" Maverick asks.

"It's pure adrenaline at this point," Gunner replies. "K-9 is on the move. Northwest corner. There's an omega in barely any clothes, bolting near the back fence. Do not intercept."

My head swivels, and I stick close to the fence. My only option is to follow it down and to the right. The loud echoing of boots hitting the ground track behind me.

The brick wall dead ends farther ahead, so I swerve, preparing to head down the alleyway.

My chest heaves as the pounding feet gain on me. I pivot, throwing my entire body down the curve to the left.

It's immediately clear I made a huge mistake.

A gigantic miscalculation.

I'm going to die.

Three men are lined up on their knees near the wall on the left.

Two guys with assault rifles are on the right, aiming toward the men on their knees.

A tall, slender man in tactical gear holds a gun to the temple of one of the men. I recognize the guy who's kneeling as one of the men who snatched me.

The guy on his feet isn't wearing a mask. He has curly brown hair that's shaggy and falls well past his ears. He's stunning in a cold way that I don't know how to explain, but he has sharp cheekbones and the perfect amount of stubble to be a model for some men's high-fashion magazine. It doesn't seem like he should be out here in the middle of whatever the hell this is.

"If you have no information, you're of no use to me," he says, pulling the trigger. "All right, let's try again. Anyone else feeling chatty?"

I shriek, pulling my hand up to cover my mouth. My bladder is dangerously full, despite them not giving me any liquids in way too long.

"Oh," the man says, twisting to face me with wide aqua-blue eyes. "I sent a team to secure you. We're here for you, Laken."

One of the men on their knees tries to make a move to run, but the man takes a large step and puts a bullet in his brain.

And he doesn't stop there.

He quickly moves to the next, and then there are three dead bodies and so much blood that my knees wobble.

"That was unfortunate." He frowns as his brow wrinkles. "I failed to account for them not being able to find you."

The sound of stomping feet from behind me gets closer, and all my brain can focus on is that he said my name.

That means he knows I'm not Lyra, and he also just straight-up executed at least one of the guys responsible for my kidnapping.

That's as close to a friend as I'm going to get at the moment.

"Uh, Ranger, you've got incoming—" one of the men holding an assault rifle says.

I run toward the man with shaggy hair, flinging myself at his chest and using his tactical vest to hold on to as I climb his torso. I guess his name might be Ranger, that or it's his code name or call sign.

My sister might have gotten me into this mess, but she clearly made some powerful allies. I plan to latch on, refuse to let him shake me off, and convince him to get me out of here.

My system senses an apex alpha. That means he's capable of keeping me safe.

I whimper, burying my nose in the man's throat as his messy brown curls tickle my face.

"Please help me," I whisper, not even a little embarrassed by how pathetic I sound.

"You're all right." He runs his hand down my spine, over the dirty dress I've been trapped in for days. My nose burrows deeper into his skin as I suck in hits of his sweaty, manly scent. He smells electric and, for whatever reason, it instantly settles my overstimulated system. "I've got you. I'm Ranger, and you are safe now. I give my word—no one will hurt you."

"Well, that wasn't on my bingo card for the year," Maverick says from behind me. "Whatever. Seriously, Gun. Check my nose. She fucked me up good. It's still bleeding."

Gunner laughs. "Stop being a crybaby."

"Yeah, I didn't see that coming, either." The guy with an assault rifle who spoke earlier drops it to hang around his neck and rips off his mask. He points at his chest as his hair bounces in the wind. "Tanner." He gives an easy smile, but I'm still so overwhelmed…

"I want to go home," I whisper as the dogs whine around Ranger's feet.

"You need medical attention, but I'll get you somewhere safe," Ranger says. "Just give me a little trust."

I nod, trying to convince my system that I'm safe now.