Page 5 of Pistols & Peonies

Alpha snorts behind me, clearly amused. “Is that so?”

She lifts her chin higher, staring him down. “Yeah. It is.”

“You’ve been charged with conspiracy to commit sedition,” I cut in before she can make things worse for herself. “How do you plead?”

Her gaze pings back to me and she flashes a smile that’s all teeth. “Not guilty, obviously.”

Shocker.

“Care to explain why you were apprehended at a meeting for rebels, then?” I arch a brow.

“Look, that was all just a big misunderstanding,” she purrs, batting her lashes. “Wrong place, wrong time kinda thing.”

“Uh huh,” I grumble, not buying her sweet and innocent act for a second. I know a wild thing when I see it.

“It’s the truth,” she insists. “So, am I free to go, or…?”

“Depends on your sentence,” I say, flicking a glance up at Alpha.

He considers her for a moment, grey eyes narrowing. “I’ll give you a choice,” he declares. “The Pairing or the Reapers.”

For the first time, something breaks in her expression. Not fear, exactly, but the shock of someone realizing they’ve run out of road. It’s just a micro-reaction, but I catch it. She knows exactly what those options mean.

The Reaper Block isn’t a prison, it’s a death funnel; Alpha Gage’s very own suicide squad to send out on missions few return from. Barbaric, but efficient to remove those who offend him without getting his hands dirty.

The Pairing isn’t much better. It’s a quarterly ceremony where Alpha pairs people up, assigning them as mates. Many willingly apply to be Paired, either for security or to advance their position within the pack, but those who are forced into it become nothing more than commodities for trade, subjected to Alpha’s delegation of their future however he sees fit.

“Is there a third option?” she asks, voice clipped.

“Name your co-conspirators for a reduced sentence,” I say, giving her a pointed look.

She winces, shaking her head. “Like I said, wrong place, wrong time. I didn’t know anyone, I was just there for the free booze.”

“Make your choice, then,” Alpha barks, rapidly nearing the limits of his patience.

I watch her carefully.

This is the part when most break. Cry, beg, bargain. Violet Slayter doesn’t do any of those things. Instead, she tilts her head with a kind of reckless grace.

“What happened to innocent until proven guilty?” she fires at Alpha, dropping all pretense of sweetness.

“You were there,” he replies gruffly. “That’s proof enough. Refuse to give names, and suffer the consequences.”

She purses her lips. “Can I think about it?”

“No,” I say immediately, sharper than intended.

Her eyes dart to me again, quick and cutting. Like she can’t decide whether I’m trying to help her survive, or guaranteeing she won’t.

Alpha sighs boredly. “Reapers, then.”

“No, wait!” she blurts, panic cracking through the veneer. “The Pairing, I’ll take the Pairing!”

“Fine.” Alpha waves a dismissive hand. “Next.”

The guards step forward, and her whole body tenses. I see the fight coiled under her skin, the way she shifts her stance to resist, even with one arm useless.

I raise a hand in silent commend, stopping them in their tracks before they reach her. Then I advance instead, slipping a knife from my pocket as I step toward her.