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“I want to ask for a pack bid,” I managed to scratch out of my tight throat. Where the hell is Glen?
The announcer cleared his throat. “Son, I’m afraid you can’t get a bid now, since the only Alpha Heir here is your own. You’ll go on to the semi-finals. I’m sure another pack will bid for you if you win that one.” His mouth twitched. “Might want to lay low until then.”
He had no idea. “I… I have to win in the semi-finals?” I pressed a hand against my heart. “I really gotta fight again?”
The announcer leaned down, sniffing, and his eyes went wide. “Oh, shit. You’re not a boy at all…” He lifted his head. “Alpha?” But the Southern Alpha wasn’t there.
Where had he gone? Where had all the other Heirs gone?
Luke stood, speaking for the Alpha. “Do you forfeit the next fight?”
“Forfeit my chance to get the hell out of here?” I spat blood on the mat, scanning the crowd one more time for Glen. But he was gone.
Finnick and Glen had both stabbed me in the back. I was alone.
Good thing I was used to it.
“Hell, no,” I answered, loud and proud. “I’ll fight.”
You could have heard a cricket fart. And then the crowd lost their shit.
16
Reinforcements
GLEN
“Fuck, fuck, what did we do? What have I done?” Even though my leg was on fire with pain, I paced stiffly in the cell the Southern Alpha had thrown me into an hour before.
Me and Brand, which was still making my head spin.
I knew why I had attacked the Alpha when he promised to kill Flor slowly, but for some reason, Brand had done a partial shift and gotten claws into the bastard before I was halfway there. He’d just about torn the man’s ear off, leaving gashes down his neck. If Luke hadn’t stepped in and hauled him away, I’m not sure Brand would have stopped until Callaway was dead.
Of course, the rest of Southern would have killed Brand then. Dominance challenges had to be announced, and just killing an Alpha because he threatened a member of his own pack wasn’t reason enough to try to murder him.
And we didn’t have an order for his execution. Yet.
Standing at the silver-plated iron door that was easily three inches thick, Brand let out an enraged growl. “Screwed up,” he said, his eyes practically throwing sparks in the dim cell. “Don’t worry. I got word from one of my pack’s fighters before they stuck us in here. Our parents will be here tomorrow.”
“I thought your dad said he wasn’t coming until the last day for the mandatory Council meeting.” Brand stayed silent. “And my dad was delayed because of the rogue situation at our packlands.”
“Tomorrow,” was his reply.
There was no way they could have arrived that soon, unless… “You called them in before the fight, didn’t you? You told them about Flor.”
Brand nodded once. “Right after we found her in the hunting grounds.”
Relief spilled through me, quickly followed by trepidation. “Who’s coming?” I sank down on a metal bench, rubbing my leg. The silver in the bars that surrounded us made shifting in this cell close to impossible, but the fracture was healing slowly. It would be back to normal by morning. “Just the Alphas?”
Brand closed his eyes for a moment, letting out a huge breath. As I stared, the shiner Luke had given him in the scuffle vanished. I was impressed, though I tried not to show it. It was the fastest healing I’d ever seen without a shift, which meant Brand might be the strongest Alpha Heir of us all. I would say the strongest shifter alive, but I’d met his dad.
Finally, he answered, “All of them except Finnick’s mother.” She never came to anything, other than social events and Conclaves held in their own territory.
“Oh, kill me now.” I collapsed to the floor. “Mom’s coming.”
“What’s wrong with her?” Brand rubbed at the drying blood on his torn shirt. “Margarette’s a strong, loyal, kind shifter.”
“She’s kind to you,” I told him. “She probably wishes you were her son.”
