“How long ago?” I asked. Behind me, Ryder was running towards the door, punching the button for the elevator. Which I should have already fucking done.

“Five minutes maybe,” one girl said.

“She won’t have gotten outside yet,” Ma said. “Everyone, calm down.”

I looked toward Dane on his mobile talking to someone, muttering, “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“What,” I demanded. “What the fuck happened?”

The elevator arrived with a ding.

“Outside the zone,” he said. “Out the back and through the fucking gate. There’s a fucking riot down there.”

The elevator journey was an exercise in patience that I hadn’t known I possessed. We exited at the bottom into a wall of four men loading up with weapons.

“Stand down, guys,” Dane said before pulling his cell away from his ear. “She’s left the zone. Got into a car. Someone picked her up at the gates before Snake’s crew could get through.”

He flipped his cell sideways and hit play on a recording. It was grainy as fuck, but it showed the gate slamming shut, a beta with her, pulling a chain around the closed gate just as a fuck ton of alphas collided with it, nearly buckling the whole structure. A car pulled up, arms waving frantically to Sloane, then she climbed straight in. Her sister, maybe?

And the guy with her, her liberator? Art, our barman, if I recognised that mop of curly dark hair, locked the chain and then pulled a fucking gun out. He had a key for deliveries, so that part made sense.

“We had an agent for Alpha Control in our midst,” Dane snarled.

Meanwhile, inside the zone, the crowd had turned ugly, alphas driven by their animal instincts by a whiff of omega, the beta calling for backup, it appeared.

“Shit!” Ryder muttered. “That still going down?” Dane fast forwarded to the camera feed. “Nope, looks like they’ve mostly dispersed. What a fucking mess!”

My heart was pounding out of my chest. The need to fuck something or someone up battled with the calm I needed to assess the situation. “You think Snake will try to track her down?” I asked.

“Yes,” Dane said. “Fresh meat and all that. The license plates are grainy on this image, but it might’ve been clearer for anyone on the ground. If Snake had any sense during that frenzy, which he may not, he’d have clocked her plate. You need to call her and warn her.”

“Call?”

“He doesn’t have her number,” Ryder said.

“I don’t have her number,” I agreed through gritted teeth. It hadn’t been a priority when I was… “Check her ID she came in with.”

“But I’ve got something almost as good,” Ryder continued. “Her sister’s number.”

7

Sloane

“So, girlfriend, dish,” Jude said as he took a seat at our breakfast bar. “I want allll the details. Was he amazing? Like amazing, amazing? Like this amazing?” His hands went up, measuring a metaphorical Jace’s attributes in the air, but his eyebrows shot up when I didn’t reply. “More amazing than this? Girl, you can’t leave me hanging here like this!”

I couldn’t do this. I stood by the sink, fingers turning white against the cool metal, in a kitchen I’d rinsed more dishes in than I could decently remember, yet this was all so different. The stink of the sponge hit me. Yeah, that needed tossing, but the thought of touching its harsh plastic surface made me literally gag. The traces of detergent blasted me with a breezy artificial citrus scent, clogging my nose until I reached over and opened the small kitchen window. Even that was no help, the smog in the air, the many industrial stinks of city living hitting me like a ton of bricks. My sensitive stomach clenched hard, my hand going to my mouth before I felt the bile rise.

“I need to—”

I sprinted from the room, flying into the toilet and dropping to my knees, then shoving the seat up before emptying the meagre contents of my gut into it.

“Shit, Sloane…”

I waved them off. Their scents, their presence, their feelings, were all too oppressive right now, and wasn’t that a worry? This was my baby sister and my best friend. Jude and I had met early on in high school and been buds forever. There had never been a time I didn’t want him around, but the little sounds of distress and concern they made, the restive shift of their bodies, it was all like nails on a chalkboard.

“She’s hungover,” Em decided. “Sloane, I’ll get you some ibuprofen and water.”

“Great, thanks,” I croaked out, not sure I’d be able to keep them down, but I needed something. I didn’t have a headache, more a whole body ache. I’d run from the zone, the memory of those alphas making my heart begin to race again, muscles tensing, which didn’t help at all. I’d hardly put in an hour of cardio, so why was everything hurting? When the two of them left, I reached up and flushed the toilet, then leaned against the wall, just for a second, then felt a hot, hot flush wash over me.

I was on fire, and somehow, that transmuted the pain. My skin, my muscles, my body burned, sweat breaking out, making my hands slip on the floor, leaving me to bake in some kind of haze, when Em appeared.

“Here, you look terrible.” I opened my eyes a crack, the effort making me flinch, as it felt like the light stabbed into them like sharp knives. “How much did you drink last night?”

Not enough and too much, that was the correct answer, but I couldn’t voice that right now. I popped the pills, then drank the water down in greedy gulps, anything to put out the fire inside.

“You’re dehydrated,” Em said with a nod, then produced a two-litre bottle of cold water. “Come on, let’s get you into bed.”

Bed, yes, that. Instincts seemed to move my limbs when I couldn’t. My sister helped me up, but I walked to my room on wobbling legs, the heat in me flaring once I got to my bed. Em moved briskly, pulling my curtains, the room descending into darkness. Instantly, I felt a little better, the drapes reducing the room down, making it smaller, more cocoon-like.

“Sleep, Sloane,” Em said, shooting me a gentle smile. “And thanks for last night. It was…wild.”

Something fragile, pleased, almost giddy crossed her face, only to be shoved away, and if I were in my right mind, I’d have questioned that, hard, but I wasn’t. I just watched her move away dully, falling onto the bed when Em left, the door closing with a snick, the sound of a phone ringing coming from deep within our place.

But not for long. I felt the wrongness as soon as the soft surface cradled my body. That was right, but the sheets? Prickly, bumpy, with little pill-like indentions I could feel all over me. I tore them off, then pawed at the satin cover of the bare mattress. Close, but not right. I threw open my closet, shoving hangers and clothes to one side in my search. Dresses, pants, shirts, anything that had the right feel was tossed on the bed, and when I turned around, I saw it.

A nest.

Not right yet. I frowned, feeling the curl inside me tighten, grow more restless. It was closer to what I needed, a low ache in my pelvis flaring hotter as my skin did. It had to be finished. It should be perfect. So I crawled onto the bed, pawing at the fabrics, shifting them around on the mattress, until finally, they felt right.

What are you doing? a shrill voice asked in my mind. You’re not a bloody animal!

No, a deeper one answered. You’re an omega.

That was all it took to set the fire that had been banked hard inside me ablaze. His voice, even just an imagined version inside my head, had me writhing on the bed, curling my body tighter within the confines of my nest when that afforded me some relief.

“Jace…” I panted, almost able to feel his hands on my body, between my legs, teasing me, pushing in and opening my arse. Slick oozed from me, coating my skin, my thighs, readying me, and my fingers played in it, trying to ease the ache inside me, but every stroke of my clit only wound me up tighter, and not in a good way. I ended up on all fours, head down, butt in the air, the angle easing some of the pressure off in my pelvis, but also it opened me up. I felt every slight breeze over my overheated folds like some kind of wisp-like caress.