Page 189 of Harley & Her Ferals

Lionzio’s smile is strained, but he nods. Then he wraps his arms around himself and stiffly walks to stand next to Dad.

Feral bounces on his toes, warming up.

I tighten my hand around Laurent’s.

The song is nearing its end.

The death matches are about to begin.

“Fighters, step into the cages,” Dad bellows.

Immediately, the eighteen fighters step into the nine cages. The doors clang shut.

I flinch.

I study the Alphas that Feral and Harbinger are facing.

Feral’s rival is the tallest Alpha in the Underworld, Knot King.

He’s an arrogant jerk. His choice of ring name proves it.

He’s one of the older fighters in the NPH Championship. His pack may want to get rid of him because they’re bringing him out of retirement for this.

He won three elite male Omegas as prizes five years ago.

He makes the Omegas’ lives hell.

Even within the Underworld, he’s infamous for his cruelty. I’ve dreamed of being able to beat his ass and save those Omegas.

I bet that he was chosen to fight Feral because he’s the only Alpha, apart from Harbinger, who has any chance of taking on the Champion.

Knot King is taller than Feral with a shaved head, small eyes, and hands that are strong enough to break through brick walls. He’s dressed in navy shorts.

Harbinger is facing the Hit Man.

The Hit Man is the best martial artist in the Underworld. He’s quicker than I am.

I’d also bet any money that he’s the man Dad sent to assassinate River’s family in Sicily.

Hit Man is known to take on contracts by other packs to do their dirty work. Dad threatens others because he gets a thrill out of it. But he rarely pulls the trigger himself.

Hit Man looks much younger than his true age. He’s small and lithe with side-swept bangs, dark brown eyes, and delicate features. His shorts are the same brown as his eyes.

You’d never know that he was a serial killer.

Laurent’s breathing picks up. “River has timed this right. It will kick in.”

“I trust our Alphas,” I reply. “They’re fighting for us as well. Nobody has a stronger motivation.”

Except, the other men are psychos and they’re fighting for their literal lives.

Hit Man casually stoops and picks up an iron bar, resting it on his shoulder.

Knot King snatches up a bottle, smiling sadistically, as he smashes it against the side of the cage.

He holds the jagged side up in front of himself.

Feral doesn’t reach for anything.

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