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WYATT
In the days that followed, Wyatt was kept busy helping the rest of the pack to prepare for the Omega Games. He suspected that Robert was trying to take his mind off of Izzy and the request he’d made for her freedom. Would Robert let him know when he’d thought it over and made a decision? Wyatt could only hope so. He didn’t think that returning to Robert and nagging for an answer would help his case any.
In the meantime, there was a lot of work to be done. Much of his time was spent in the garage with Van, since the two of them had the most pronounced talent for working on motorcycles. Robert had ordered that every bike in the pack’s possession was to be brought to good working order before the Games began. As a precaution, he had also ordered that no sabotage take place, which Wyatt found slightly insulting. He wanted to win the Games, of course he did, but sabotaging the bikes could result in one of his packmates’ deaths. He would never have done that.
Van seemed to have none of the anxiety Wyatt was experiencing about the impending games. “What do you think we’ll have to do?” he asked as he checked the brake lines on one of the bikes. “Do you think I’ll have a shot at winning?”
“Of course, you’ll have a shot,” Wyatt said. “In fact, I hope you do.”
“Really?”
“Sure.” If Wyatt couldn’t win himself, Van wouldn’t be too bad a choice to be paired with Izzy. Maybe he would even be a better choice than Wyatt. He was her age, after all, and he had never struck Wyatt as having brutal or unkind tendencies. He would treat her well. And his chances at winning the games were much better than Wyatt’s. He was younger, fitter, and stronger. “Why do you want her?” he asked.
Van shrugged. “Doesn’t everyone?”
“Seems like it.” Between the conversations that had been going around about the Omega Games, rife with boastful claims about what certain members of the pack would do when they had won, and the official signup sheet in the kitchen, which had been filled with names within an hour of its posting, it was clear that this was going to be an extremely popular event. “But are you just doing it because everyone else is?” Wyatt asked. “Because if you are, then it doesn’t really matter if you win or not, does it?”
“No,” Van said. “That isn’t why.”
“Then why?”
“We live in the middle of the woods,” Van said. “The only time we leave the property is to go on runs that take us down backroads and two-lane highways, through small towns and truck stops. Or we go to biker bars—always the same ones. We never get out into the world, and if we do, we’re in a big pack.”
“What’s your point?” Wyatt asked.
Van shrugged. “How’s anyone supposed to meet a girl?”
Wyatt had never thought of it that way. “You actually want to have a relationship with her.”
“I want to have a relationship with someone,” Van said. “At some point. I want to fall in love and get married, like Robert and Lena.”
“What about the other girls in the pack?” Wyatt asked. “Have you considered any of them?”
“I’ve known them all my life,” Van said. “It would be strange.”
“It might be worth thinking about,” Wyatt said. “Just in case you don’t win the Games.”
Van looked up, wounded. “You think I won’t win?”
“You could,” Wyatt hastened to assure him. “I think you’re in with as good a chance as anyone. Better than some. Much better than me.” He chuckled, even though his stomach lurched unpleasantly at the thought. It was concerning how little chance he stood of taking control of Izzy’s fate. “But if you don’t win, remember that there are a lot of attractive young women right here in our pack. Open your eyes to what’s around you. You don’t have to meet someone new.”
“Yeah.” Van rolled his eyes. “Okay, Dad.”
Wyatt laughed. “Give me a beer, will you?”
Van passed one over. Wyatt sat back from the bike he’d been working on and cracked it open. “I guess we’re going to have to do some riding in the Games,” he said. “If it’s so important for the bikes to be in good working order.”
“Seems a little stacked, doesn’t it?”
“How do you mean?” Wyatt asked. “We’re good riders. Everyone in the pack is a good rider.”
“Okay, sure. But Gunner’s our road captain. He knows the roads around here better than anyone, and he’s got the best bike.” Van pointed it out unnecessarily. Wyatt had notice Gunner’s bike before. It was brand new, top of the line, one of the best brands available. Even though Wyatt dearly loved his own hand-built bike, he had to admit he was jealous of what Gunner had. And now he realized that Van had a point. If it came to some kind of competition on the bikes, would anyone be able to compete against Gunner?
“We’ll just have to try,” he told Van. “Remember, you’ll be in with a fighting chance, just like Gunner. Just like everyone. Don’t let go of that, okay? Nothing is a foregone conclusion. You could easily win.”
“Not easily.”
“Okay, not easily. But it could happen. Don’t start thinking it couldn’t.”
Van cracked a smile and opened a beer of his own. Wyatt could tell he’d bolstered the younger man’s confidence. But his own had been shaken. Was Van right? Had the competition been designed for Gunner to have an advantage?
He can’t win, Wyatt thought, returning to work on the bike in front of him. That’s what matters most. It doesn’t need to be me, as long as it’s not him. He would worry about Izzy’s safety with most of the other members of the pack, but with Gunner he wouldn’t worry—he’d know for sure. Gunner would hurt and abuse her without care. He was, after all, the man who’d insisted on fighting all his brothers to secure a rank in the pack. He only cares about himself.
***
IZZY
It was early morning, Isabel thought, if the light coming through the boarded-up window in her room was anything to go by. No one from the pack should have come to trouble her for hours yet. But she could hear scraping outside her door. Someone was walking around out there.
Wyatt? she couldn’t help hoping. He had done as she’d asked in the heat of her anger, left her room and not come back. She’d regretted it since. He might not have been a reliable friend, it was true, but he had been the only friend she’d had. He had given her broth, a pillow, gummy candy. More than that, he had given her someone to talk to. It was a part of her day she missed badly now that it was gone. The men and women who brought her dinner plate now handed it to her silently or placed it on the floor in her room without speaking or even looking at her. It was like they were feeding a dog.
The door opened.
It wasn’t Wyatt. It was a different man, taller and older, and vaguely familiar to Isabel. She thought he might have been present on the night of her kidnapping, though she couldn’t say for sure. That night had been too shot through with fear and adrenaline for her to have formed any clear memories.
“May I sit down?” the man asked.
Did she have a choice? She shrugged.
The man took a seat on the floor opposite her. “Hello, Izzy. My name is Robert. I’m the alpha of the Hell’s Wolves.”
There was so much information in that one simple sentence. The pack to which she’d been brought was called the Hell’s Wolves. Isabel had never heard of them—but then, she’d never heard of any pack. This man was the alpha, which meant that Wyatt wasn’t. She hadn’t really thought he was, of course. His newness to the pack and his inability to help her in any real way spoke to that. But then it was this Robert’s fault that she had been locked up for so long.
She tried to summon anger, but she was too afraid to access it. She couldn’t even bring herself to break his gaze. It was terrifying.
He seemed to sense her fear. “You don’t need to be afraid,” he said. “I’m not here to hurt you.”
She found her voice, although it was thin and barely audible. “I know what men like you do to omegas.”
He shook his head. “I’m not going to do anything to you. I promise. I’m married, and I’m loyal to my wife. You have nothing to fear from me.”
It’s a lie. It had to be. No man remained loyal to another woman in the presence of an omega. Her mother had prepared her for that. They wouldn’t be able to control themselves around her. They would turn into the lowest, most animalistic versions of themselves.
“Izzy, I know you and I have gotten off to a bad start,” Robert said. “I brought you here because I want you to be one of us. One of the Hell’s Wolves. I want you to be a part of our pack. We’re a family. Wolves should have a family. Do you think you might want to be one of us?”
Mutely, she shook her head. I just want to go home.
“Another member of my pack seems to think you might feel differently if you had the chance to spend some time with some of us,” Robert said. “What do you think about that?”
She wanted to shake her head again—to tell him that no power on earth could make her want to join his pack—but she hesitated. What was he offering, exactly? Spending some time with members of the pack would mean one of two things. It could mean visitors to her room, which would break up the day in the same way Wyatt’s visits once had. Or, even better, it might mean he was considering letting her out.
If he let her out, she might be able to escape.
She couldn’t go back to her job at the gas station, or to the home she’d had at the motel. But she could run away from these wolves. Find a new place and start again. If there was even the slightest chance at freedom, Isabel would take it.
“Yes,” she said. Her throat was tight. She cleared it and tried again. “Yes. I’d like to meet the others.”
She held her breath.
Robert regarded her. She could see that he was sizing her up, looking for something. She did her best to keep her eyes wide and her face relaxed, to project innocence and trust. Let him think she was trying to fit in. Let him think there was a part of her that was open to this.
After what seemed like forever, Robert nodded and slapped his hands against his knees. “Very well. Because you’re not a member of the pack yet, of course, you’re not subject to my commands as alpha. Until the day you submit to me, you’ll always need to be accompanied by another pack member.”
So, I’ll have to give them the slip. It was still better than Isabel could have hoped for. She nodded.
“Wait here,” he said, getting to his feet. “Someone will be along shortly to help you prepare for breakfast.”
Isabel watched him go, already dreaming of the moment she managed to break free of the Hell’s Wolves.
***
THE GIRL WHO CAME UP to get her had short spiky hair and wore a leather vest. Isabel could see the patches on the back indicating that the girl belonged to the Hell’s Wolves. She looked to be about Isabel’s own age, maybe one or two years older.
“Here,” she said brusquely, tossing a paper grocery bag at Isabel. Isabel caught it and looked inside. It contained a change of clothes. The girl was also carrying a basin of hot water and a sponge. “You need to clean up and get changed before breakfast,” she said.
Isabel hesitated. “Can you turn around?”
With an exasperated sigh, the older girl turned to face the wall, crossing her arms as if this were a tremendous hardship. Isabel quickly stripped down and ran the sponge over her body. The water in the basin felt good, and she was refreshed, but her skin was still damp when she pulled the new dress over her head and the fabric clung to her. She tilted her head forward so her hair hung over the bowl, wrung the sponge out over it, and combed her fingers through. When she had finished, she felt not quite presentable, but closer to human at the very least.
“You can turn around,” she said, and the girl turned back to her. Her face showed no expression. Isabel would have given a lot for a mirror right now. She was about to meet the rest of the pack for the first time since her kidnapping, and despite herself, she did care what they thought of her. It seemed like her life had been building to this moment for weeks, maybe even months. How long had she been here?
She trailed behind the girl down the stairs, the scent of bacon in the air. This morning’s breakfast would be a hot one. At least there was that. She was tired of chewing cold hunks of chicken and limp vegetables.
The kitchen featured a long table, and she could see that the rest of the pack was already gathered. Wyatt was sitting toward the middle, but the seats on either side of him were already taken. Her guide brought her to the very end of the table and indicated that she should sit there.
“Thank you, Heather,” Robert said. He was seated at the center of the table, on the opposite side from where Isabel was sitting. Wyatt sat to his immediate right, and on his left was an older woman with her hair up in a bun. She wasn’t smiling.
Heather must have been the girl who had brought Isabel down, because she nodded in response to Robert’s thanks. “No problem.”
“Welcome, Isabel,” Robert said.
Should she say something? “Thank you,” she managed barely above a whisper.
Dishes were passed around the table. Bowls full of scrambled eggs and potatoes, platters of bacon and ham. It all smelled wonderful, but Isabel was too nervous to eat. What if she made someone angry? What if they locked her back in her room? She had been so eager to get out, to make her way closer to freedom, but now that she was here the world seemed too big.
Heather nudged her. “Eat.”
She took a muffin from the serving bowl in front of her and put it on her plate.
“Why isn’t she eating?” another girl asked.
Heather shrugged. “Don’t look at me. I’m not in charge of what she does.”
“You kind of are,” the second girl said. “Robert put you in charge, didn’t he?”
“Shut up, Val. He didn’t give an order.” Heather eyed Isabel, then shrugged. “It’s her own problem if she doesn’t want to eat, if you ask me. I brought her to the table. I did my part.”
“Robert wants us to look after her, though.” This from another girl, who might have been about seventeen and was clearly the youngest one at the table. “We’re supposed to help her integrate into the pack.”
If that was true, Isabel thought, they should stop talking about her as if she couldn’t hear every word they were saying. It was incredibly awkward. She crumbled a bit off her muffin and put it in her mouth.
“I heard they’re going to do an opening ceremony tomorrow,” the young girl said, breaking a strip of bacon into bite sized pieces. She popped one into her mouth. “Do you think we’ll be invited?”
“I’m not going even if we are,” Heather said. Val shook her head in agreement.
“Why not?” the younger girl asked. “Don’t you think it’s kind of exciting?”
“I think the whole thing is ridiculous,” Heather said. “And I think you’re going starry-eyed, Caitlin. With the way the men are losing their minds over this, we’re the only ones with our heads on straight. We can’t afford to have you get sucked in.”
“Come on, Heather,” Val said. “It’s not that big a deal, is it? It’ll be one guy in the end.”
“How many guys do you think we have here?” Heather snapped. “How many of a decent age? How many who you aren’t related to, Val? She’s going to end up with one of them. And every single guy here wants to be that one. None of them want us when they could have her.”
“It’s not that big a deal—”
“It is that big a deal. It is exactly that big a deal,” Heather said. “How are you going to fall in love with someone when you know you’re his second choice? How are you going to be with someone when you’ve watched him compete—and lose—for her?”
They’re going to compete for me.
The women of the pack resented her, Isabel realized. And they had good reason. “I don’t want it,” she said softly. “Any of it. I don’t want to take them from you.” If she could persuade them to her side, maybe they’d help her—
But Heather looked as if she were about to spit. “You see what I mean?” she said to the others, still not deigning to address Isabel directly. “All our men throwing themselves at her, and she doesn’t even want it. She’s too good for us. And I guess she’s too good for our food, too. So, let her starve. Not my problem.” She punctuated this statement by draining her glass of juice.
Val and Caitlin looked a little uncertain, but they both turned their attention back to their plates.
Isabel broke off another piece of muffin. She was determined to eat, determined not to starve. She would need all her strength to make her escape.
