Chapter Fifty-Five

Faith

No-one speaks to me. Well, they speak at me, but frankly I'm not sure why I'm here.

I woke up to a bottle of cold water being tipped over my head. One of the ringleaders was grumbling at Hamish for knocking me out in the first place.

Even now, bound to a metal chair in the corner of what I assume is someone's garage—a big, windowless room with polished concrete floors—I can still feel the shock of electricity in my blood.

"This isn't what we agreed."

My eyes lock onto the only alpha I don't recognize—portly, elderly, leaning into a gold-tipped cane.

"All due respect," the other ringleaders, a narrow-faced blonde called Darla, says, "you wanted the omega. And we got her, as was agreed."

"You think I want her now?" The old alpha fumbles for his phone, thrusting the screen in Darla's face. "She's the RDF's most wanted, for Christ's sake! If they trace her back here—if she escapes, again— "

"She won't," Hamish cuts in.

"That's easy for you to say. You're not the one with a hundred-million-dollar empire on the line."

It clicks for me then. The bunker, this garage—the whole goddamn property—must belong to this guy.

And for some reason, he wanted me .

Oh my god .

It's him. The high bidder who's been putting pressure on the ringleaders to get me back. It makes my insides twist, imagining him up in the stands, watching my last fight with K-4.

The old alpha limps toward me. He leans in close, his breath reeking of tobacco.

"Take out her gag," he orders. "Let's see what she has to say for herself."

Only then do I notice the uncomfortable tightness around my jaw—a dirty rag stuffed between my teeth.

"Alright, F-7," Hamish mutters as he unties me, "screw this up, and there'll be consequences."

I could almost laugh. Three years I was stuck in the ring, and these assholes still don't know the first thing about me. I spit across the room, trying to get the bad taste out of my mouth.

The old alpha makes a face. "Is she feral?" he asks.

"Not as far as we know," Darla answers. "At least, not when she's out of the ring."

"Well that's something." He taps my foot with his cane. "Go on, omega. Tell me why you're worth keeping."

My lip curls in disgust. Instinctively, I try to move my hands—to sign something obscene—but they're locked to the chair behind me.

He quirks a brow. "Well?"

Great. Should've guessed they'd be slow on the uptake.

I open my mouth, vocalizing emptily, trying to demonstrate. The alphas share bemused expressions. They bicker among themselves, the old alpha getting more and more impatient, before finally it sinks in.

"I … don't think she can speak," Hamish says.

Darla snaps at him. "What?"

"Axe always said she was quiet, and she uses sign language sometimes … maybe this is why."

I roll my eyes.

"Oh." Darla scowls, but then that scowl turns to a grin. "Isn't that something? A nice, quiet, feisty little plaything?" She sneaks the old alpha a meaningful look.

He is quiet, deep in thought, assessing me with an added interest that makes my skin crawl.

"Deal's still off," he says at last. "It's too risky."

Darla laughs shrilly. "Risky how? No-one knows she's here!"

"If you lot couldn't keep a leash on her before the RDF was putting wanted posters on every billboard in the state, what makes you think I can? I'm a busy man, you know."

The ringleaders seem to falter for a moment, looking between each other with panic. I don't know whether to be excited or nervous. If this guy decides he doesn't want me, I don't know where that leaves me. Doomed to the ring, indefinitely? Or … worse?

Suddenly Hamish's eyes light up. "I'd like to sweeten the offer, if I may."

The old alpha looks at him.

"F-7 here …" Hamish drawls, "has a mate . Another rogue."

The old alpha is instantly put off. "I thought you said you'd sweeten the offer."

"He's the key to keeping her in line. She ever gives you trouble, all you have to do is yank his chain. I assure you—" he cuts me a knowing smirk, "she'll learn her place soon enough."

"Plus," Darla sweeps in, "two for the price of one? Not too bad."

The old alpha scoffs. "My offer is generous enough for three of your rogues and you know it. It just so happens …" he presses his cane against the inside of my knee. Arousal, foul and potent, fills the air. " This one is special."

I flash my teeth.

He laughs. "There's my omega."

Not your omega, I want to scream. Not your fucking omega!

"She's quite something," Hamish agrees, tautly.

"That she is." The old alpha exhales. "Alright. You've got yourself a new deal—under one condition."

"Name it," Darla blurts out.

He smiles, and the sight of it makes me want to carve out my insides.

"I want to see her fight. Him, too. Just one last time." He rests both hands on his cane. "Let them remind me what they're worth."

If I wasn't so furious, I'd probably feel like crying. No, my inner omega moans. No more fighting. I did my time—won my hundred matches. I thought the nightmare was finally over.

And now I've somehow roped Fang into it, too.

Just thinking his name stirs something primal and ferocious inside of me. Without thinking, I try to leap out of my chair, biting air—wishing it was flesh.

"Holy fuck," Hamish jumps.

The old alpha clutches his chest, laughing. "That's the spirit!"

I'll kill you. I'll fucking kill you if you so much as put a finger on my mate.

No-one hears me. Without my hands, I can't speak. Can't say a word.

Exactly as they like it.

***

Fang is all over me the rest of the night. He tries to get me to talk to him, but the bunker is pitch black. Even if I had the energy to speak, he'd never make out the words.

"Your hair's wet," he growls. "They hurt you? I swear, if they tried anything— "

One of the rogues snaps at him to shut up. People are trying to sleep.

In the end, I snuggle into his chest, waiting for my breaths to even out. I manage to fall asleep, even if it's just for a couple hours, but by the time the lights flip back on, I can tell Fang was not so lucky.

He urges me to explain what happened. As I speak, gesturing tiredly, his features get darker and darker.

"Shit," he mutters.

I wish we had more time to talk, just to be together, before the door swings open. Two guards I vaguely recognize bring us breakfast. Then they make an announcement.

"I-9 and D-1."

Fang and another rogue alpha perk their heads up.

"You two are on. Tonight."

I-9—a rookie, by ring standards, but built like a fucking tank—stands. "Are you for real?"

"You know the rules," the guard drawls on. "Prepare however you want. But no fighting until you're in the ring."

"What ring?" Fang dares to ask. " Where ?"

The guard grins. "I guess you'll find out."

With that, he leaves, the door bolting behind him and his friend.

I-9 curses the second they're gone. "This is bullshit."

One of the omegas tries to comfort him. He shoves her aside, but there's no malice in the gesture—only despair.

Fang and I aren't the only ones suffering here. I have to remember that. Everyone's tired. Everyone's scared. What's worse, they've given up hope.

Fang , I sign, this is it. You'll have to be careful.

He nods, understanding. Fight too well, or too dirty, and the old alpha might get scared off. He needs to win, but it'll have to be quick and clean.

I'll win, he assures me, like he's reading my mind. But what then? They stick you in there—with that ankle?

I guess so. No-one commented on it last night.

"Fuckers," Fang snarls. Where are your RDF alphas when you need them ?

They'll be here. I just … don't know when.

"Hey."

We both turn, bristling, as I-9 storms up to us. Fang shifts automatically, putting himself in front of me.

I-9 clenches his fists. "You guys planning something? Trying to take me down?"

Fang steels. "We're only doing what we have to do."

"Sure." His lip curls. "Then you know I'll be doing the same."

My blood runs cold, a silent growl ripping out of me. Are you threatening my mate?

Fang puts a hand on my thigh. "Understood," he says to I-9.

The other alpha trudges off. Neither Fang or I relax. We can't afford to.

Tonight, it begins. Or ends.

Even as Fang takes me into his arms, rubbing himself in my scent, I can't help but send out a silent plea to Caleb, Jaxon, and Micah. Hell, even to Maverick. I know they're out there, looking for me—the old alpha confirmed it.

So find me , I urge. Please .

Before it's too late.