Alpha Knight (Wolf Ridge High 2)

My phone buzzes, and I yank it out of my pocket. It’s Wilde, checking on me: You coming to school tomorrow, asshole?

I ignore the text and close my eyes.

Will myself to fall asleep.

Hope to fate I’ll feel more like myself in the morning.

That I’ll know what to do.

I guess one thing is sure—I don’t have to feel bad about getting Sloane’s memories wiped. Not when she cares so little about me.

Sloane

My head throbs. I think I’ve been drugged because my body won’t move. My mouth tastes like cotton, and I want to puke.

I’m sprawled across the back seat of the Navigator, and the beat I hear is the stereo blasting Post Malone. There’s talking from the front seat, too, but I can’t make out what they’re saying over the music.

And it’s day time.

Which means we’ve been driving all night. At least, I think we have. I gained consciousness a few other times during the night, and every time it was the same. The car moving. My body too sluggish to respond to commands.

Where in the hell are we going?

Oh fuck.

They’re taking me to my new owner to be tortured and raped until… until what? I’m killed or sold again to someone else to repeat the same fate. Bile fills my throat, and I try to swallow it down.

At least Rikki isn’t here, too. That would’ve killed me.

I cough, gagging a bit, and one of the guy’s faces comes into focus where he’s looking back at me. Tom. “She’s awake again.”

“Take care of her,” Vinny says.

“What if she needs to go to the bathroom or something? I don’t want her doing it in the car. I mean, how’s it work with this shit?”

“Just give her another fucking shot!” Vinny snarls.

I try to make my lips move. “I do have to pee,” I manage to croak. It’s probably true. I can’t really tell because I can’t feel my body. But I definitely want them to stop somewhere, so I can get away.

“Fanculo,” Vinny snarls. Probably some Italian curse. The vehicle brakes suddenly and comes to a stop.

Well, shit.

I was kinda hoping for a rest stop. Or gas station. Or some other place besides the side of the road.

Tom gets out and throws open my door, hauling me out. My legs buckle beneath me, and I fall to the ground. He stares down at me with contempt. “Well, pee, then.”

I’m sure I do have to pee. I work hard to get my hands to move and manage to unbutton my jeans and pull them down. I hobble up to a squat and release my bladder.

Cornfields.

We’re surrounded by cornfields. Which means… we’re somewhere in the midwest.

Unexpected.

But I’m sure they need sex slaves everywhere.

I slowly stand and get my pants back up, but there’s no time to button them before Tom shoves me back in the Navigator. “Water?” I croak. I’m so freaking thirsty.

“Give her another fucking shot,” Vinny orders from the driver’s seat.

“I am. Do you think she needs water, though? I mean, how long can a person go without drinking? It’s been, like sixteen hours.”

Sixteen hours. I’ve been out for a long time.

“I need water,” I repeat.

“You give her water, she’ll have to pee again. We can’t risk it.”

“Please,” I beg. “Just a swallow.”

Tom comes at me with a needle and jabs it in my arm. He slams my door and climbs back in the front seat. The vehicle peels out. The last thing I remember is him handing me back a bottle of water, but I never get it to my mouth.

Bo

“Fenton, drop and give me twenty!” Coach Jamison yells at me during practice when the ball hits me in the head. “Get your head out of your ass and show me and your teammates some respect!”

“Yes, sir!” I yell, but it’s just mechanical. I’m answering by rote. I hardly register what he said or what he wants from me. I’m fifty fathoms under water right now, and I don’t know which way to swim for air.

I don’t even know what I’m feeling, other than that everything is wrong.

I’m pissed at Sloane. Pissed at myself. Pissed at the world. And deep down is the gnawing sensation that I need to find my way out of this coffin I’m stuck in, but I don’t have a clue how to do it.

Somehow, I make it through practice.

“What’s going on with you, Bo? Any word from Winslow?” Wilde asks in a low voice in the locker room. I expected him to give me shit for fucking up practice so much today, and the question helps pull some of the cotton out of my ears. Especially when the rest of the alpha-holes—Austin, Cole and Slade crowd around me to hear the answer.

I throw my hands in the air. “He’s just been chillin’ in Tucson. Right along with Ben Thomasson and the rest of the banished pack.”