Page 113 of Unhinged
“Fuck the both of you,” I growl. It comes from my chest, tight and pissed.
Acid slaps me on the back, hard. “Loosen up, Gears. If you keep trying to control her or figure her out, you’ll miss your chance. She doesn’t want to be figured out. She wants to be felt.You’re overthinking it.”
“She’s a wild card,” Arrow says, nodding like he’s the damn omega whisperer or something. “Just let her do her thing. We’re not steering this ship, man. We’re just hanging on while she drags us through the chaos.”
I grunt. Maybe they’re right. I don’t know. I just want to make sure she doesn’t get herself hurt. Or kill someone at the wrong time.
I shift my stance, eyes locked on her again.
She’s shaking hands with Nitro and Suave now. Smiling a little. That smile never reaches her eyes.
Then she steps up to the dart line. Her hips sway. Her head tilts. She looks deadly and soft at the same time.
The dart flies.
Fifty-seven.
She pouts. It's stupid that even that’s hot.
“She’s not your average omega, Gears,” Acid mutters, sipping his beer. “You keep forgetting. We didn’t get matched with some run-of-the-mill omega. We got matched with the Slayer. She’s fine.”
Nitro throws—twenty-five.
Suave hits thirty-three.
I take a long drink from my bottle, the glass cold and sweating in my hand. My jaw’s still tight.
Second round. Sixty. Forty. Thirty-five.
She doesn’t blink. Doesn’t let them shake her. That’s my girl. No—fuck. She’s not mine. Not yet.
Third round.
She lifts her arm. A quick flick.
Bullseye.
Goddamn.
Suave lands fifty-one. Nitro gets sixty.
But Brydgett?
She’s in the lead.
And all I can do is stand here and smile like an idiot.
I notice her drink’s almost gone.
Stupid how fast I move after that. Like some lovesick puppy or some shit. I head to the bar, not thinking—just moving—and tell Keg to get her a refill.
He barely glances up before handing me a glass. “Here.”
I look down. Water and vodka. That’s it. Just clear liquid and a half-assed smile from the prospect.
I stare at him like he’s grown a second head. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?”
Keg blinks, shrugs. “Oh. Right. Hang on.”
