Page 90 of Scent to the Feral Cowboys

The man's expression didn't change. "And I told you to sit down.”

“And I told you I need to pee,” I pressed, though going to one of the cramped plane bathrooms wouldn’t save me… Not unless the toilet lid opened to magically reveal a gaping hole and the runway beneath.

Another man appeared, body passing through the open passenger door. This one was leaner, with sharp eyes that assessed me with cold efficiency. He carried himself with practiced vigilance. His gaze fell on me, then locked on the other man. They were a team.

"Do we need to subdue the product?" the newcomer asked, not bothering to address me directly.

The first man's eyes never left mine as he responded. "Possibly."

I remained frozen in place, caught between fight and flight, neither option particularly viable while trapped in a metal tube thousands of feet above the ground. And now, scared to death, I really did need to pee.

The second man approached slowly, half circling around where his partner and I were in a stand-off. He casually blocked my view of the emergency exit. At this closer distance, I spotted a tiny spider tattoo at the corner of his right eye.

"Real nice that we don’t have to treat them with kid gloves anymore," he said conversationally to his partner, as if I weren't standing right there. "Did you hear about that other bitch and her cat? Thought Darryl was going to quit over it.”

The first man grunted in agreement. "She's the reason they changed things.”

“About damn time. It was easier to hand them off to the plane staff though. Less paperwork, and a lot less liability for us.” The lean man gave a devil-may-care shrug, as if they were discussing a shipment of paper goods rather than a person.

“Hey,” the second man clapped the larger one on the shoulder, “at least we get time and a half with a travel bonus. Can’t complain too much."

My fingers curled into fists at my sides.Subdue. Product. That other bitch.The dehumanizing language wasn't accidental.

"I'm not sitting down until you let me take a piss," I said, injecting steel into my voice. The same voice I'd used when drunk Alphas at Club Midnight got too handsy. Pat on the back for me, my voice was steady this time.

“Very ladylike,” sneered the bigger man, the vein on his head seeming to bloat larger.

“Wonder if she’ll get returned,” the spider tattoo jerk mused. “Seems like most clients don’t take too well to mouthy Omegas.”

“How is asking to use the bathroom being mouthy?” I challenged.

They both stared at me for a heartbeat, but said nothing, so I pushed.

“Would be a shame if I pissed myself and ruined this dress.” I lifted the hem, showing off the silky material. The movement also revealed my calves. Their eyes flicked down, faces softening in that way men’s do when they’re thinking about all the things they want to do to you—whether invited or not.

“Take her to the bathroom, Fridge,” this from the spider man, “I’ll get the sedative in case she doesn’t want to cooperate after.”

“You’re not fucking sedating me again,” I pushed out, chest hurting at the idea of being knocked out again.

Forehead Vein’s lips twisted into a cruel, warped smile. "You don't get to make demands, sweetheart. The buyers are payingtop dollar for you. Our only job is to make sure you arrive in pristine condition, awake or not.”

Buyers. The word sent a chill down my spine despite the cabin's comfortable temperature.

"How much?" I asked suddenly, surprising even myself. "How much am I worth?"

The men exchanged glances, something like amusement passing between them.

"More than we make in five years," the first man said after a pause. "Must be something special about you, though you don't look it."

I swallowed hard, mind racing through options. If I was valuable merchandise, maybe they wouldn't risk damaging me. Maybe if I really could get out of here, and get far enough away, they’d not be able to use a weapon to cover the distance. They’d have to physically catch me. The lean one with the tattoo might be fast. The other was too bulky to be quick.

As if reading my mind, Forehead Vein spoke again.

“You could try to get past us. You might even make it out the door and down the stairs. But every single person on this tarmac is on the payroll. It’s a game of odds, darling, and the outcome isn’t in your favor.” He spoke so calmly now. So rationally. So… ‘fuck around and find out, I couldn’t care less’.

That my body deflated.

My determination became a withered balloon, crumpled onto the plush plane carpet.