Page 89 of The Feral Alpha

He reached up to brush his thumb across Olson’s lips. “Mate. Love.”

Olson’s heartbreak was in his eyes, devastating. “No,” he whispered.

“Hurry up,” one of the men barked. A gunshot rang out.

Rex startled, whipping around with his teeth bared. “I go,” he snarled. “No hurt Olson.”

He took a step toward the men, stealing one last glance at his omega.

They couldn’t possibly end like this. Not after everything Rex had done to return to him. But there was nothing he could do, not if he wanted to keep Olson out of their claws.

“Love,” Rex said again.

He’d died once to save Olson’s life. He would do it again.

The moment he was close enough, one of the men shackled his wrists behind his back, the cold, heavy manacles impossible to rip apart.

He had to follow them. He had to bide his time.

He didn’t know how else he was going to survive this.

24

OLSON MAKES A DECISION

Olson’s hands shook. He scrambled for his phone, his chest so tight that he couldn’t breathe.

It took him three tries to hit the Call button.

Jag answered. “Olson?”

“They took Rex,” he said, trying to keep his voice low in case the men came back. “They’re moving him away. What do I do?”

“Fuck.” A chair clattered in the background. “How many men were there?”

“T-two.”

“Can you follow them at a distance? Keep out of sight. I need to know which direction they’re heading. What vehicle.”

“Okay,” Olson said, his voice stuck in his throat.

Hunter was still crying. He’d been crying this whole time, the sound adding to the pounding of Olson’s heart.

How much time had Olson lost by calling Jag for help? He grabbed the gun under his pillow, glancing around the apartment before poking his head out the front door.

Rex’s captors were nowhere in sight. Olson’s stomach clenched. He shut the door quietly and turned in the direction he’d seen them go—toward the parking lot.

Jag had been quiet on the other end of the line. “Storm is en route. The rest of us are heading out.”

Was it going to be enough?

A movement in the parking lot caught his eye. Rex and his captors were at a car on the other side of the lot; Rex was struggling, refusing to be shoved into the backseat.

One of the alphas bashed a gun against his head. Rex lurched sideways, and Olson’s stomach clenched so hard, he thought he’d throw up. “I-I found them,” he told Jag shakily. “White car.”

He tried his best to describe the car, but he could hardly even see it through the other cars.

“I have a gun,” Olson added.

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