“Who?” Motya asks. The silence that follows is deafening. Her expression doesn’t change, it never does, but her eyes seem colder. “Who hurt you?”

Your lip's split and it's making her blood boil. Motya doesn't care for many things. She has no major likes or dislikes. She's not attached to anything in this world, but if there's one thing she'll never fail to protect, it's you: her omega.

The marriage started off as one of convenience. She needed someone to marry to keep omegas away, you needed someone to marry to keep alphas away. A fair trade off. You're a medic for the fight ring. A good one, from what she's seen, but you're also an omega. Underground fighting isn't safe for alphas, let alone unmarked omegas.

That was over a year ago. You’re hers now; no longer an unmarked omega.

She lifts a hand to trace the bite mark on the back of your neck. You’re bonded to her and she has no plans on letting you go. Motya is well known in the ring. Vicious, cruel, unrelenting. She’s a feared opponent. Because you’re her omega, most are wise enough to leave you alone.

Evidently not everyone wishes to live.

“Was it the alpha I fought earlier?” she asks. She has a sinking feeling she’s right. He must’ve smelt you on her and tried to hurt you to get back at her. Motya hates sore losers.

She also hates you working as a medic here. Had it been up to her, she’d let you stay at the penthouse and expect nothing in return. The need to keep you spoiled and secure constantly wars in her mind. But you didn’t want that. She respects your ambition, truly.

Truly.

Ambition isn’t keeping you safe, though. She is.