Chapter 2

After watching everyone make their way off the bus, I slowly forced my aching body to stand so I could follow behind them. That in itself is fucking torture. I know that once I get to my room, I’m going to have to take a shower because I can already feel the wounds on my back and thighs have opened up again. That’s the main reason I wore a black hoodie, dark jeans, and heavy cologne. Even though July weather is hot and stuffy, the dark clothing helps hide any bloodstains, and the cologne helps cover the scent.

I let out a quiet chuckle at my own cleverness.

At least I had the foresight to plan ahead.

Stepping off the last step, my knees damn near give out, and a wave of panic hits me.

Just as I think I’m going to fall, a large hand catches mine and a strong arm—dense in tattoos—wraps around my waist, stabilizing me before I hit the ground.

Glancing up through my bangs, I lock onto a pair of silver eyes.

My breath catches in my throat, and my heart skips a beat.

Alpha Colt Eldritch.

A man built like a damn god is holding my hand and practically pulling me against his body. I can feel his warmth seeping through my clothes, and the scent of his cologne makes my head spin.

Panic slowly creeps in as I hurry to pull free from his grip.

I can’t let anyone suspect that there’s anything wrong, especially not the members of this pack. I don’t want to be sent away.

I force myself to steady my breathing and try to rebuild a facade of calm that I absolutely don’t feel.

Another unbelievably tall man just like his brother, with muscles that look like they were carved by the moon goddess herself. And she took her time making damn sure no detail was missed. His thick black hair, dark as a starless night, perfectly frames his face with wheat-colored skin that only makes him seem more surreal. His arms are massive, corded with strength, heavily inked in tattoos that mirror his brother’s in a way that sends my perverse imagination running wild. Everything about these men screams sex appeal dripping with sin.

I’m no better than anyone else—worse, probably—because I find myself wanting them. Needing them. Either one of them…or hell, both. The thought alone makes my stomach twist, shame and heat colliding in a way that’s almost overwhelming.

Goddess, what is wrong with me?

I shouldn’t be looking at them like this. I shouldn’t be thinking like this—not when I’m standing here, barely holding myself together, nothing but a broken mess pretending to be something worthy of standing in the same air as them.

I’m pathetic. Weak. Completely out of my depth.

And yet I can’t stop looking.

While I was mentally laughing at my own audacity, I was pulled back by a deep, sensual voice whispering beside my ear. At some point, Alpha Draegan had come closer and leaned down, bringing his lips near my ear.

“Are you alright? I saw you were a little unsteady on your feet getting off the bus. I know it was a long ride. Are your legs asleep from all that sitting?”

I could hear the concern and care in his tone and didn’t know what to say for a moment. He must have noticed I was a little lost, because he placed his hand on my shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. 

Fuck.

 Cold sweat broke out across my skin, and I felt the blood drain from my face. The pain in my shoulder nearly had me blacking out. My hands started to shake, and I dug my nails into my thighs just to keep myself from yelping. How pathetic. I am the weakest, most pathetic piece of trash there is.

I take a deep breath, pain flooding my chest, and do my best to hold myself together. I force a weak smile, hoping to convince him that everything is alright. Even I don’t believe that sad excuse for a lie. I try to cover it up with a small chuckle.

“I’m alright. I’ve just been sitting for a while, and the sudden change in position makes me a little out of sorts. I’m sorry for such an embarrassing display.”

I manage to squeeze the words out through shaky breaths. My gaze drops to the ground in shame, and I start counting the blades of grass to keep my mind off the mind-boggling pain crushing through me. I have a damn high pain tolerance, but I was stupid enough to let myself relax around these two for even a second, and now my muscles are screaming at me.

Alpha Draegan finally lets go of my shoulder, and I let out a small, inaudible sigh of relief. Damn, that was close. I really have to be more careful from now on—can’t go fucking up my chances at freedom that I’ve been working toward for years. 

Alpha Colt clears his throat lightly and speaks in a slightly upbeat voice, with a hint of awkwardness. 

“Nonsense. Things happen, and the ride here is quite long and uncomfortable. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about or sorry for. We were just worried about your well-being and wanted to make sure you’re okay, which we’re glad you are. Let’s head over to the others in your group.”

I look up at his face, trying to read his expression, and I can tell he really is just worried. There are no signs of annoyance—no judgment, no disgust—just concern. I glance over at Alpha Draegan, and he’s the same. Well, that was unexpected. Two men that I have just met are showing me such concern and respect that even most of my home pack hasn’t shown me. It gave me a warm and giddy feeling. I give them a small nod and smile in acknowledgment.

Walking to the end of the line where my home pack is gathered, I look ahead to Alpha Draegan and Alpha Colt, who are standing there with clipboards in their hands, marking things down. Turning my gaze to the other packs, I notice several other Shadow Claw members with clipboards, each overseeing one of the three other packs that have arrived for this round of training camp. I wonder who is going to last—and how many will be kicked out. I can already guess that our pack might be the first to be sent home.

My father sent my second brother’s friends with us on this run, and I groan at the thought of being stuck here with them. Alpha Sam Coleman stands out immediately. He’s tall—around six-foot-eight—with a large, muscular build and sharp green eyes full of a harsh, arrogant edge. His bronze skin is beaded with sweat, and his choppy brown hair is slicked back with an excessive amount of gel. He’s the one who beats the living shit out of me on a weekly basis, and his goon, Beta Dexter Marshall, along with my brother, love to torment me and get off on my screams and cries for mercy. I can’t walk properly for days after they get their hands on me.

I glance up and see them standing together, occasionally stealing looks in my direction. Beta Dexter is slightly shorter than Alpha Sam but still taller than me—around six-foot-three. His muscular, bronze-toned body is squeezed into clothes that look a size too small. His sharp hazel eyes rake over me with an unsettling expression, and he licks his lips in a way that makes my skin crawl. He tucks his black hair behind his ear.

I shudder, clenching my teeth and fists as the memories flood my mind.

Breathe, Raymond. It will be over soon.

Please let that be true. I pray to the goddess every night, just hoping it can all come to an end—one way or another.