They aren't going to let me go willingly, which means a war will break out.
And in every war, there's a certainty of death.
Chapter Three
Nyx
Somehow, my body betrays me, and I fall asleep from exhaustion. I had planned to stay awake as long as possible, to keep trying to reach out to Lex, Maverick, or Alpha Daxton, but somewhere along the way, my body gave out.
As I start to stir, I have a strange feeling I'm being watched, accompanied by an unfamiliar, but intriguing, scent.
My eyes quickly shoot open when I remember where I am, a gasp spilling out of my mouth as I immediately spot someone standing on the other side of the bars, watching me closely with a curious expression.
Fucking creep.
"Who are you?" I ask, mentally scolding myself for sounding tired instead of angry psycho—the vibe I was aiming for.
He doesn't reply, but his electric blue eyes slowly scan my body, pausing briefly on the chains. I'm not sure if he's surprised to see them, but I wait for his eyes to come back to my face while I compose myself.
"I said,who are you?" I repeat, firmer.
Ha. That sounded better.
Through the bars, I observe his tall frame, feeling oddly uncomfortable by the amount of muscle under his fitted shirt. I thought Lex was huge, but this guy gives him a run for his money. And it doesn't help that his arms are crossed, pushing his large biceps up. If I wasn't terrified, I'd actually admit that he's quite good looking… for a psycho.
His obsidian hair almost falls into his eyes, and when he finally speaks, his voice is deep and gravelly.
"I'll be asking the questions here."
My eyebrow shoots up as my expression hardens. "Well, good luck getting an answer. I'll tell you exactly what I told your friends—fuck off."
I wait for an angry reaction, much like how James was, but his lips twitch before pulling up into a smirk.
"I believe it was'go fuck yourself'and'fuck you'."
His response is like a slap in the face. I feel embarrassment creeping up my cheeks, but I ignore that, focusing on the anger instead.
Well, at least they are obviously talking about me. Glad I can give them something entertaining to do before I'm decimated and violated.
"Same thing," I grumble. "The intention is there."
"Right."
Once again, I really loathe howrealthis all seems. It would be easier to accept if they were rogues and lawless savages. But there's clearly a hierarchy here, signaling pack structure. And this banter—horribly, I might add—reminds me of Maverick. The back and forth pull between two dominating personalities.
It would all be better if I could resisthumanizing them.
I guess that's the difference between us. While I struggle to understand how they could be so vile, they can so easily overlook the fact that I am a person—a living, breathing, spoken for, young female.
"Are you going to bother to ask these so-called questions? Or are you just going to stare at me like a creep?" I snap, annoyed when he continues to stand there in complete silence.
Unlike his younger counterpart, nothing I say seems to affect him. James was easy to get a rise out of. Even the others, Ezra and the man at the table, they gavesome kindof reply. In all my years of carrying this wonderful personality trait which has landed me in trouble countless times, the only people who have been unfazed or unamused were…
The Alphas.
Not just Lex and Maverick, but Alpha Daxton too. Sure, they give it back twice as hard, reminding me of their authority—even if I feign caring at times—but they have a level of control well beyond normal range. Their snide remarks and witty banter are always calculated, coming from a place of thought and control. It is never an irrational reaction. Except the few times I managed to make Maverick crack, but I assume that has a little something to do with ourmate problem.
I decide to test my theory, lifting my head with confidence. "I'm going to guess that you'reCade?"