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"Pretty damn sure," Vonn answered, obviously not intimidated by the older alpha. "She sure as shit ain't no trader."

Stacy had been so careful never to say that she was, using the precise wording in the scripted responses she'd practiced. Instead of claiming to be a beta trader or smuggler, Stacy told anyone who asked that she was 'here in the Boundarylands to trade medical supplies.' Every word in that sentence was technically true.

But there had been one time—just one—that she'd forgotten. With dawning horror, Stacy realized that under the strain of Vonn's relentless scrutiny, a lie had slipped out.

I'm a medical supply trader.

It took everything she had to keep the panic off her face. How had the huge alpha been able to pick up on such an insignificant slip? It hadn't been deliberate—in her mind, Stacy had been saying the same thing she'd said a dozen times before—and yet that didn't seem to matter.

She'd lied. And in doing so, she'd failed her entire mission. All that remained was to see how she would be made to pay.

"That ain't proof," the older alpha—some sort of leader, no matter what Fulmer's team of experts said—scoffed.

"You don't believe me?" Vonn growled. "Then ask her."

Stacy stiffened as every pair of eyes turned her way. Because she was the only training sergeant on base, the novelty of being the focus of a curious and frequently hostile crowd had long ago worn off. But she wasn't anywhere close to nonchalant now, not when her audience consisted of hulking, angry alphas instead of swaggering new recruits.

Still, she wouldn't let them see her fear. She kept her expression neutral, her chin high, her stance loose as the other alpha looked directly at her.

"Is what Vonn says true?"

Stacy repeated the line she'd practiced in a clear, strong voice. "I'm here to trade medical supplies."

But something had changed. Vonn's suspicion seemed to have heightened the others' senses, or maybe they were picking up on the fact that she was rattled. Hell, if they could sense a minor lie, they for damn sure would notice the sweat breaking out on her brow and her elevated heartbeat. If Stacy had doubted Fulmer's claim that alphas could sense minor shifts in emotion before, the growing agitation among the alphas convinced her.

"Son of a bitch." The lead alpha's eyes glinted with fury as he took a step toward her. Stacy had to work hard to stand her ground. "So, who the hell are you?"

She'd been found out. There was no way she'd be able to talk her way out of this. As a soldier in a combat situation surrounded by the enemy, there was only one thing she could say.

"Sergeant Stacy Clarke, United States Army, Fort Blanchard."

The string of curses the alpha muttered weren't a fraction as terrifying as the rage emanating from him. His huge hands clenched into fists; his muscles strained against the fabric of his shirt; the tendons in his neck stood out. As he moved toward her, there was none of Vonn's curiosity to blunt his purpose.

Without thinking, Stacy found herself in ready position again, tensed for a battle in which she was hopelessly outmatched. God help her, she was really going to have to go toe to toe with an alpha. And this time, it wasn't answers he was after: she'd be fighting for her life.

Even if some miracle occurred and she somehow got free of the alphas' leader, it wouldn't be over. By her estimation, there were at least a dozen more of them looking all too eager for their turn.

Stacy had always known things could end like this ever since the day she walked into the recruiting office in her hometown. It didn't matter that in the years since then, the few women who remained in the military had been officially barred from combat. She was still a soldier, and her oath still echoed in her ears from that long-ago day when she placed her hand on the bible held by her commanding officer:

I, Stacy Clarke, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Beta Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic.

…and it went without saying that there was no greater domestic threat than the alpha population.

She would stand, and she would fight.

But before she or the approaching alpha could make a move, Vonn grabbed her roughly by the arm and pushed her behind him, shielding her with his body. "Get your ass back in the bar, Gray," he snarled. "I wasn't asking for your help."

The older alpha laughed derisively. "Sure looks to me like you need it, though."

"Maybe you just ain't looking hard enough."

Tension arced between the alphas, both of them rumbling with anger. At this rate, they'd soon be circling each other and snarling like wolves.

Stacy took advantage of Vonn's momentary distraction to back up a few steps. What she really wanted to do was run like hell, find some cover and hunker down until she could be extracted. And if she was in any kind of beta conflict, that's exactly what she would do.

A beta might shoot her in the back, but at least there was a chance she'd get away. That wasn't the case with alphas. If she bolted now, there would be a dozen of them on her tail, and she wouldn't make it more than a couple of steps before being ripped to shreds…or worse.

Staying put wasn't a much better option, but given the choice between attacked from behind and looking death straight in the eye, Stacy preferred to go out on her feet. She looked from Vonn to the one named Gray, wondering which would win their little pissing contest and come after her first.

"This is bigger than your wounded pride, Vonn," Gray muttered. "If she really is a beta soldier, it's a problem for all of us."

"Guess you're not listening hard enough either. I only said she was a soldier. I never said she was a beta."

"Oh, for fuck's sake." The older alpha

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