The next morning, I see him. Troy. He’s walking in with the leaders. So, he’s now hunting his own kind for the humans. And he thought he was Alpha material. I can’t help the snarl that starts in my chest.
One of the warriors puts his hand on my shoulder. My head whips around as I bare my teeth.
“Alpha, if you attack him now, we won’t be able to help all these supes. We all hate him, but we need to keep our heads.”
I look at him more closely as I rein in my anger. He’s right; I need to focus, but not many would have had the guts to say that to me. “Are you related to Bastian by chance?”
“Half-brother,” he says with a smile.
I tuck that knowledge away for later. I need a Gamma for my pack, and this warrior may have just won the spot. I refocus my attention on the Arena. Troy is here, a
