Page 11 of No Escape

I won’t push back against any of their rules, and maybe I’ll even consider what my dad said and find a pack to bond.

Okay, so he wanted me to find an alpha, since he and my mom were more traditional, but I’ve always dreamed of having a loving pack of alphas to dote on and protect me.

“Do you think we care about a payday?” He laughs, a cold, dead sound spilling from his lips.

The other guy flips open a file folder, shoving pictures at me. “You have a choice to make. We tested your pheromones and blood. The results say you’re a possible match to several inmates at our facility.”

“What?” I whisper, blinking rapidly. My heart pounds so erratically that it’s hard to be sure I heard him correctly. “What does that even mean?”

I’m an American citizen. The laws of my country say I have free will to choose my pack and bond as I see fit.

“Look through the options, sniff the cards, and select who you want to be placed with,” the first man says, pointing at the stack of pictures and other papers. “You make the choice, or we will make it for you.”

I keep my eyes on his, purposely avoiding whatever is in that folder. “My name is Saylor Callahan. My father is Senator Logan Callahan out of Vermont in the United States. I have a phone number for you to call to discuss a ransom amount. You don’t have to do this.”

Dammit.

I don’t even know whatthisis!

The first man shoves his chair back and lands a stinging slap to my face. My head whips to the side, and my arms instinctively try to move to cradle my cheek. Only, the cuffs prevent that, digging into my wrists painfully.

I sob, shaking my head. “Multiple millions—that’s what you can ask for. My family will pay.”

My hair falls over my face, and I blink repeatedly.

It doesn’t help.

My vision stays fuzzy.

“You keep going on about money,” the man growls, snatching a handful of hair at my temple. “I’m bored of it.”

“I-I’m an A-American citizen. I have rights,” I hiss, struggling against his hold.

Fire radiates in my skull and cheek, making it difficult to focus.

His rancid breath fans over my skin as he snarls close to my face. He goes on in that language I can’t understand and tears leak from my eyes.

I’m in hell.

There’s no other explanation and no way I’m going to survive this.

I’ll never get to see my family again.

Never get to experience what it feels like to be loved.

I’m going to die in this place, and that very well might be the most merciful option. Women always have to be concerned about men using their size against us.

The door to the room slams open, and I jolt in my seat as the man with the scar releases me. The other guy shoves his chair back and stands.

“Collins specifically said she was to be unharmed,” the man behind me says in a crisp British accent.

“Like they aren’t going to tear her apart as soon as she’s released into A block.” The guy with the scar scoffs. “Even if one of her scent matches comes to her rescue… This is not saying much.”

A shiver runs down my spine.

What the fuck is happening?

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