Page 76 of Her Broken Alpha
From the crowd, someone called his mate's name. Darre was more than ready for another battle, but men surrounded him and he couldn't see who had dared. Alreck approached, and he saw Nixon and his own men were still watching for further treachery.
The pit was no place for discussion. He hadn't known why Mac turned on him until he’d seen the maned named Louis at his side. Then the missing piece had fallen into place.
Louis had been Mac's brother. They'd been plotting against him together, the two of them. Who knew for how long?
Seta was missing. Something in Darre knew the man must be dead. Had Mac killed him? Or was it some other enemy yet to announce himself?
Too many questions. Too many enemies around him. He wanted to get Naya back to the tower and away from this place of death.
Nixon and two others watched his back as he left the cage while Alreck and two more of his men took positions at his front. The pit fought was close to home—not part of his complex, but near enough. They'd take the tunnels there.
He'd carried Naya into the pit and he'd carry her back. The sounds of rats and vermin moving through the dark passages on their way here had unnerved her.
It made him laugh now. She'd face down an alpha without any fear, but screamed like a child at a beetle she could have crushed under her shoe.
Sticky with blood, Darre felt as though he'd only sustained minor injuries. Louis had tried to go for what had once been his weak side. Old injuries had made his left leg and hip vulnerable, prone to giving out, something very few had recognized. A blow to his knee, his ankle, or even his hip could have taken him down.
Mac had known.
But Naya had healed those injuries. Her breeder's blessing, some kind of impossible magic, had healed his body and restored him to the time before those wounds existed. He still had scars, but they no longer pulled and strained. They were meaningless marks of events from his past.
Even during the fight, he had felt her inside him sustaining his strength. Supporting him.
Darre needed to wash, needed to bury himself inside her. He needed to shut out the memory of his father on his knees and his Second's sightless eyes above his torn-out throat.
He held Naya high in his arms.
"Monster. Your father? What are you going to do?" she asked.
He nuzzled against her as they followed Alreck out. He had to tip his head and lean all sorts of directions as they walked to avoid obstacles here. The low ceiling threaded with low-hanging old plumbing, wiring, and crisscrossing building supports challenged his height.
Darre kept Naya close, tucked under his arm and away from the moist, dirty wet walls and their decoration of dangerous black mold spores.
If Darre sorted things with his father, he might be able to get back some of the things he had lost. But the predator living in his head didn't give a fuck about convenience. Instead of offering him the battle he wanted, his father and the Administration had closed him out of their fabricated world and ignored him.
But now he had a mate.
Ducking low under a pipe, he caught a whiff of something that didn't belong—cinnamon perfume. Imitation omega pheromones.
What the fuck? Who was in the tunnel?
And then a sound, awful and rending—a high-pitched screech that cut through his head like a blade.
He couldn't speak; he could barely move. Darre took two stumbling steps forward, worried for his mate who was still in his arms.
He knew that sound. It was an alpha deterrent device. It always worked on him like nothing else, as if the more primal the male, the stronger the effect. His body crumpled, all his strength leaking out of him like water from a broken dam.
He took Naya with him when he fell, twisting to the side so he didn't land on top of her.
Another noise joined the agonizing music of the neutralizing device. Gunfire battered at his ear drums.
Guns were rare and expensive, and Administration-controlled, from their making to their distribution. Who the fuck had a gun? Who would shoot wildly and hit nothing? Who had an alpha deterrent?
The gun took out three of the wall lanterns, darkening the tunnel. There were people moving, but he couldn't see and couldn’t think. His men were all around him, all affected on some level by the device. Who could stand the pain and rise in defense? He didn't know.
He heard fists on flesh, a strangled cry, and then the coppery scent of blood thickened the air.
He was completely fuckin' helpless. He couldn't do anything to protect himself or his mate. They might die here like this.
