Page 66 of The Feral Alpha

He looked around again, like he was making sure he was safe, and—

Rex knew that feeling. Did Niall also have numbers on his back?

He found himself getting to his feet. Yeah, he knew Jag was watching. But Rex had to know.

He prowled up to Niall’s booth; Niall startled. So Rex stopped where he was.

“You... num...?” Rex tapped on his own shoulder, trying to find the words to ask his question.

Niall blinked rapidly at him.

“Bad?” Rex asked, frustrated because even though he’d watched several hours of videos by this point, he still couldn’t string his words together. Instead he turned around, yanking at the collar of his shirt. It ripped. But he got his shoulder out, enough that Niall could see the numbers now.

Niall gasped.

When Rex turned back, he found Niall wincing.

“Yeah,” Niall said so quietly that Rex almost missed it. “Yeah, I have them, too.”

He shoved at his shirt and pants, pushing them clumsily apart to reveal some silvery, blotchy skin in the shape of other numbers.

Rex growled.

Niall hurriedly straightened his clothes, right before Jag appeared next to Rex. There was a flush to Niall’s face now, and he couldn’t meet Jag’s eyes.

“Something wrong?” Jag asked Rex shrewdly.

Rex looked at Niall, who shook his head quickly. So he shrugged at Jag. It wasn’t like he had the words to say anything.

Jag studied them suspiciously, then clapped Rex’s shoulder. “C’mon. The others are waiting in the back.”

Rex glanced back at Niall, who waved awkwardly with a hand hastily-stuffed into his mitten. Then Niall turned back to his laptop, and Rex focused on what Jag was saying.

“He’s a good man,” Jag said quietly. “But he refuses to ask for help even when he needs it.”

Was Niall the person Jag kept going home to protect? Jag had mentioned watching over an omega on and off, and he seemed particularly protective of Niall. Rex would be even more protective, if Olson had been that badly hurt.

There were four alphas standing around the back door of the Wine Shack. The moment Rex saw them, with their broad shoulders and muscular bodies, he stiffened, all his senses on alert.

“Relax. These are my friends.” Jag waved toward the closest alpha. “This is Storm. Bit of a youngin’.”

“Hey. Quit calling me young.” Storm narrowed his eyes and raised his middle fingers at Jag. He did look young, though. Maybe Rex’s age? Rex glimpsed a few scars on his face and arms, but he was more intrigued by Storm’s gesturing.

“Why...?” Rex raised his own middle fingers, curling the rest of his hands into fists.

“You—” Storm’s mouth fell open, his eyes growing wide. “Oh, Jag. You found a good one. He’s gonna be fun.”

Jag frowned. “Don’t teach him crap. He doesn’t need to be confused right now.”

Storm sidled up to Rex, nudging their shoulders lightly together. “This is called flipping the bird,” he said, doing the middle-finger thing again. “You show that to someone you want to piss off, because they deserve it.”

“And I deserved that, how?” Jag asked dryly.

“I’m not young. Stop calling me young.”

“I’m old enough to be your dad.” Jag rolled his eyes.

“Why...?” Rex still had his hands curled in that gesture. “Why...?”