Page 97 of Wild Omega

Occasionally small, buzzy objects would get trapped in my old pack territory on the days a little heat soaked through the hard walls, and the non-alphas used to say, “damn flies.” Well, it feels like millions ofdamn fliesnest in my head. I can barely hear my own breath over the noise.

I stagger, yanking out of one male’s grip.

“Shit, catch him!”

The chains on my hands and legs clink as they pull me upright and something foul washes through my belly along with the pain in my arm. A few steps on, they slide open a door. I snarl as they march me inside.

This cave is much bigger than the cell where I sleep. A flat metal surface and a few smaller ones hulk in the middle and I’m pushed down into the smaller, curved shelf. Metal grates against metal as they fix my chains, setting my teeth on edge.

A surge of panic claws up through my chest and I wheeze. If this is a fighting ring, how will I fight chained to the floor? I growl and hiss at the guards, but they step away. I’m too late to the realization. Even reacting seems difficult these days, like I’m fighting through a thickened version of the scents in a territory arena.

Sound crackles. “Prisoner 5923 is secured.”

I loll my head, trying to see all the room at the same time. My back stands terribly exposed to the guards behind me and I snarl in anger. The door hums open again, and I flinch and yank on my chains. I’ve got enough room to touch my own body, but that’s all.

A male several heads shorter than me, with graying hair tufting around his ears, enters holding a slim black block as thin as my finger. “Okay, Zazu, is it?”

I give the chains another yank, but they’re stuck fast. Vibrating with rage and snarling is all I can do as he approaches where I sit and takes the shelf across from me. The wide flat surface lies between us, cold against my forearms, and I judge the distance, wondering if I could reach across.

“None of that,” the man snaps. His aura doesn’t feel threatening, except for the fact I’m chained and would have trouble protecting myself. Not an alpha, then.

“So, you’ve attacked guards, climbed the exercise yard fence, and attacked other prisoners.” He glances at his tiny slab and whistles. “Some real injuries caused there. And now you’ve taken to injuring yourself, not to mention a broken arm.” He locks his fingers together on top of his black tray. “It’s not looking good for you, Zazu.”

I glance at his hands and stop snarling. That’s not an aggressive position. He wouldn’t be able to get his hands free quickly if I attacked.

He tilts his head, studying me. “Do you understand me, Zazu?”

Those sounds are part of what they call me, but otherwise I have no idea what he wants. If they put me in a ring with a territory challenger, I’d know what to do, but I don’t know anything anymore. I whine as the pressure between my ears increases.

The man sighs. “You could be fooled into thinking he has a soft side.”

One of my guards shifts forward. “What’s the latest with the feral alphas restoration program?”

“We don’t have enough funding for all of them, especially with how long it takes to make any progress.” He leans back in his chair and sighs. “It’s days like these I hate my job.”

“Don’t feel so bad, Doc. This one’s a hopeless case. Cracked right through. Now that he’s even attacking himself, euthanasia will be a blessing.”

Something in their tone makes the hair on the back of my neck bristle. The alpha beside me doesn’t like me, that much is clear, and theotheracross the flat surface seems to listen to him. A growl vibrates up my throat. I ignore the way it rebounds up into the space behind my eyes, setting the damn flies buzzing frantically.

The short man glances at me and then leans down and sets a small cylinder on the table. I watch through half-closed eyes as he pours water into it and picks it up. He lifts it to his lips, and I study the way his exposed jugular pulses.

“This is water in a cup, Zazu.” He sets a second cylinder on the table and pours in more water before pushing it toward me. Close enough to reach.

I stare at it. All these not-pack beings hold objects in their hands. Are they saying that’s how I need to fight from now on? The cylinder fitted neatly in his hand. A fresh ache runs through my itchy arm, which is still prisoner to the hard bandage running from my wrist to my elbow. Objects everywhere. Hard ones. And he even used the sound they always called when I went into the arena.

But who is my target here?

Under my lashes, I assess the three enemies. The man across from me isn’t a genuine threat. Slowly, I reach out and grasp the water-filled thing. My chains clink as I move, reminding me I won’t have much of a chance.

“Doc, I don’t think—” The alpha steps forward and I lunge, driving the new weapon into his side. Chains snap me back and I rebound as his blood-curdling scream bathes my ears. I roll to the side as the second alpha lashes out, but my cuffs snap me up short. A hard force punishes my shoulders, slamming me into the flat surface. I roar with anger as he pins me from behind, straining my chains with painful force.

“Fucking mongrel!” The first alpha presses his hand into his side. “What evidence do you need, Doc? How many more bones do we have to break while you make up your fucking mind?” He groans and rests his hand against his ribs.

I growl, low and resentful. Those bones in his side will heal; I was hoping to drive them deeper so he wouldn’t get up again.

He catches me staring and swears again, face pale in the half-light. “Fuck! Monster!”

The small man sighs and stands up. “You okay, Mckenna?”

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