“You mean, the doctor Wren snuffed,” Vash said.
But Killian shook his head. “Aidrick claims he survived, that he’s with Cassian now,” he said.
Vash felt an icy current of dread hover in his gut. “Dammit! We can’t stay here.”
“What are we going to do, Vash? Wait for you to bleed to death in some foreign village?” Lucas asked, looking down at the freshly applied gauze, already starting to soak with rosy stains.
As they argued, Wren watched as an emaciated figure of a woman passed by. Lifting her head, she observed the sunken omega watching Killian and Lucas. It was too close for comfort.
“Alphas, stop arguing,” Wren whispered, raising her hand to point.
“We will come across someone,” Vash argued.
“I’m sick of putting my ass on the line for one girl,” Lucas said.
As the alphas ignored Wren’s incessant chattering, the woman took slow steps forward. Finally, she gazed into Wren’s eyes.
“Shh…” The silent omega placed a skeletal finger against her lip. Then, she aimed a rifle at Killian’s head.
Wren jumped forward in a state of panic. Her leash caught against the post, but she choked until her hand eased around the butt of Vash’s revolver.
One shot. Two shots. Three shots. Dead shot and slayed.
The omega fell to the floor as a heap of bones and figure-hugging flesh. Wren turned her head before she could witness the dark red fluid spread out across the floor.
The men reacted the way she expected them to, by raising their fists to smash her into submission. Wren dropped the gun and huddled back against the wall, legs tucked inside her arms. “Please don’t beat me anymore,” she whispered.
Killian seized Wren by the shoulders but did not hit. “You saved our lives.”
The pack could feel the weight of other slave trader alphas staring in their direction. Wren had just killed a woman—one who wasn’t their property. This was a crime, she assumed, that no other alpha in the sector would let go.
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The entire section of the arena lit up with flashing red lights and resounding sirens. The alphas turned in a panic.
Innocently, Wren pushed the pistol away with her feet. “What have I done?” she whispered.
“Keep the pistol,” Vash groaned. “We may need you.”
Perhaps Wren had earned their trust.
Turning, the alphas faced the crowd of slave traders. Vash held the insignia up in the air. “My brother is Cassian,” he said. “I am of his blood. Step back, alpha scum.”
The crowd thickened like the sea, but the four parted through with powerful force. “I am of the blood!” Vash screamed once more.
It is the blood that makes atonement.
Without blood, there is no forgiveness.
Wren remembered the doctors telling her this. As she clung to Killian’s back, she closed her eyes and only allowed herself to look when the fear of death forced her eyes back open.
They carefully edged their way through the arena, finally reaching the entrance to the station. Lucas rushed forward and held the door open before it could lock them inside. “Keep moving!”
They scampered through the train station, hopping onto the tracks themselves. “Through the tunnel,” Lucas said. “We can get on a train at the next station.”
“Let’s hope one doesn’t come while we’re on these tracks,” Killian muttered.
Finally opening her eyes again, Wren swallowed and forced a smile. She was no longer an innocent flower, waiting for each petal to be plucked and thrown onto the earth’s floor. She’d saved the alphas. She could be strong like them.