Chapter 4

Keiran’s POV

I don’t realize my mistake until about two seconds after the door closes behind me. Inside, with all the smoke, sweat, and alcohol, it’s difficult to pick up any other scents unless you’re really paying attention, something I definitely wasn’t doing. Apparently I should’ve been because now I’m trapped in the narrow alley behind the club with three other shifters—well, four if you count Blondie, who’s perked up a little and is trying to pull away from the other three.

This is just not my night.

Douche One takes hold of Blondie’s arm, then jerks his chin in my direction. “Get rid of him, Greg. No witnesses.”

Douche Two—Greg, I assume—starts in my direction, while his friends drag Blondie toward a green SUV waiting at the end of the alleyway. Greg grabs my arm, digging his fingers in and pulling me toward the dumpster in the opposite direction. He’s muttering under his breath about stupid humans and I almost laugh in relief.

Looks like these guys weren’t paying much attention either. They have no idea I’m a shifter and that’s going to make getting out of this situation much easier, but… I cast a guilty glance toward Blondie. How am I going to get him out of here too?

I turn my attention back to Greg. Solving my own predicament needs to take priority. I—

Douche One yelps. “That little fucker bit me!”

Spinning around, I watch as Blondie slams an elbow into his captor’s stomach, then shakes free and comes barreling in my direction, not exactly gracefully, but fast. Whatever they drugged him with seems to be wearing off.

Greg, all but forgetting about me, moves to intercept Blondie’s escape and I use his momentary distraction to spring my surprise. I shift one of my hands into something with claws and I jam the sharp points into Greg’s stomach and twist. The injury won’t kill him, but it’ll take a while to heal

and will put Greg out of the fight.

Blondie’s about as surprised as Greg, his eyes widening at the blood. I grab his arm as he reaches me, tugging him along beside me as I take off for the unguarded end of the alley, the other two shifters in fast pursuit. We reach the street and I take a sharp left, moving around toward the front of the club. The bouncers might not be a match for a shifter, but the shifters

won’t want to make a scene in front of humans and the bouncers can slow our pursuers down while we disappear.

That’s my plan, anyway.

Blondie’s not as steady as I’d like, but his hold on my arm is tight and he’s keeping pace with me. I drag him into the group of people waiting outside the doors to the club. We’re both slim enough that getting through the crowd is fairly easy and, even though a couple of people bitch about it, we’re soon at the front of the line where two burly men are checking IDs.

“Denny,” I huff, resting a hand on the big man’s bicep. I point toward the two shifters shoving their way toward us. “Those guys drugged my friend here and dragged him into the back alley.”

Denny scowls and nudges the other bouncer, Pike, with his elbow. “We got trouble.” He glances down at me. “Go back inside, Keiran. We’ll take care of this.”

“Thanks. You guys are lifesavers.”

Pike motions me and Blondie inside, and I lead the way upstairs and into Heaven’s staff room. I lock the door behind us, then place my ear against the wood, listening for anything out of place—like shifters shoving their way in and causing a commotion looking for me—or, rather, us.

“They won’t risk it,” says Blondie. “This is already going to create all sorts of problems for their Alpha. They know better than to reveal anything to humans.”

“Okay,” I say as I straighten away from the door. “I guess we’re good then.”

Blondie gives me an appraising look. “Thanks for your help back there.”

“Yeah. No problem.” I shrug. “I, uh…”

He waits for me to find some words, but nothing is coming to me.

“You’re obviously not one of Rossi’s wolves, so who are you?” he finally asks.

“Keiran,” I say without thinking. I should not be giving him my real name, but I suppose Denny already let that cat out of the bag.

“I’m Remy Matisse.” He stares at me expectantly, as if the name should mean something to me.

And maybe it should, but I have no idea what.

“Nice to meet you?” I shoot him a nervous smile. I’m making such a mess of this. It’s been ages since I’ve had a real interaction with another shifter. I know damn well there are formalities and shit like that I’m supposed to follow—or at least know.

Remy’s brows pull together, and he cocks his head to the side. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before. Are you here for the summit? Who’s your Alpha?”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Um, I’m not from around here… just passing through.”

“Just passing through but you have a job and the bouncers knew your name? That implies some level of permanence.” He studies my face with an uncomfortable intensity, as if trying to see through me.

“I, uh…”

He walks forward until he’s right in front of me. “Who did you speak with when you requested permission to stay in this territory?”

I swallow. “No one?”

“Where—”

The door crashes open and I spin around. Shit. I slide partway in front of Remy as two men storm into the room. They’re not the guys from earlier, but they are shifters and they’re both larger than Remy and me put together.

Remy lets out an exasperated sigh from behind me. “I’m fine.”

“Fine?” yells one of the new arrivals, an absolutely stunning Black man, as he stalks toward Remy, all but shoving me out of the way to get there.

“You ditched us and went out on your own in another Alpha’s territory. What do you think Julian is going to say about this?”

“Julian doesn’t need to know,” says Remy, smiling and reaching forward to rest a hand on the chest of the man now looming over him. “Nothing happened, Dante.”

“The hell it didn’t,” says Dante, his nostrils flaring with anger. He leans away from Remy’s touch, then fishes something out of his pocket and holds it up: a cell phone with a smashed screen. “If nothing happened, then what was this doing in the alleyway behind the club?”

“Okay, so, maybe I got in a little trouble, but it all turned out okay.” Remy lets out a nervous chuckle as he shoots me a look I can’t interpret. “My new friend here looked out for me.”

Dante whirls around, focusing on me for the first time. “Who the fuck are you?”

“This,” says Remy, moving toward me, then linking his arm through mine, “is Keiran.”

“That your blood, kid?” asks the second guy, speaking up for the first time. It takes me a second to realize he means the blood all over my hand from when I skewered Greg with my claws.

“No,” I reply, moving my hand behind my back and attempting to pull away from Remy. “So, um, glad I could help. I’ve gotta be going. Work and all…”

Remy doesn’t budge, and neither does his arm. “Keiran is a waiter at Heaven & Hell. He followed me when Jake and his cronies dragged me outside.”

“Dragged… you… outside…?” says Dante, each word forced through clenched teeth.

“Well, maybe not dragged…” says Remy.

Dante narrows his eyes at me and quirks a brow. “What happened?”

I hold my hands up and wave them in front of my chest. “Look, I don’t—”

“What. Happened.” A growl rumbles up from Dante’s throat.

Remy huffs. “They drugged me, took me outside, and tried to shove me in a car.”

“They had a car waiting?” asks the second as-yet-unnamed guy. He shares a look with Dante. “This was planned.”

Dante nods. Both of the larger men turn their attention to me, suspicion clear on their faces.

“It’s awfully convenient you were there tonight,” says Dante. “Maybe you were in on it?”

“In on it?” I choke out, taking a step backward.

“Not possible,” says Remy, waving his hand through the air. “Keiran had no idea what he was walking into when he stepped outside. Plus, those guys thought he was human until he partially shifted and half-disemboweled one of them.”

Two sets of wide eyes swing to me and my stomach drops. This is not good. Showing off that particular ability—exclusive to alphas and, apparently, omegas—was a dumb idea. These guys will never mistake me for an alpha.

“Partially shifted?” says Dante. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” says Remy. “Why?”

“That’s not…” Dante’s voice trails off.

“Who’s your Alpha?” the other guy asks me.

I shuffle my feet and look everywhere but at him. There’s no good way for me to answer that question. My gaze finds Remy and I internally apologize before ripping my arm out of his hold, then punching him in the face. As I hoped, Dante and the other guy’s first instinct is to run to Remy, protecting their charge or whatever he is to them, instead of pursuing me as I dash through the door and take off down the stairs.