And Lucky knew there was no way he could ever do that.

And that is one more reason why I will never be fit for Pack life. I certainly could never be an Alpha. The thought did not displease him. It probably went against his dog-spirit—and no doubt it was a result of his Lone Dog life and his bond with the Leashed Dogs—but at least he knew that he would never sink so low as to kill another dog.

Lucky sighed. “It is a pity you’re not with the Leashed Pack yourself,” he remarked. “You would be happier there. No dog has to be Omega in their camp.”

“I am no Leashed Dog.” Omega’s squat muzzle wrinkled even more with contempt. “But I will be of higher status than I am now, and you are going to help me get my promotion.”

“I want to help you, Whine. And I suppose I don’t have a choice, anyway.”

“No,” Whine grumbled arrogantly.

“I still don’t see what you think I can do for you.”

“It should be obvious—especially to a Street Dog like you.” Whine licked idly at a paw. “Nothing I do is ever going to impress Alpha. I can’t lie to myself about that. But if another dog behaves badly enough, or does something really stupid or dangerous . . .”

“Alpha will demote that dog to Omega,” Lucky finished, a chill running through his fur.

“Exactly. Oh, and you shouldn’t panic—I am not expecting you to sacrifice yourself. If I asked that, you might just kill me.”

I would not, thought Lucky, but I’m glad you have that wrong.

“Since you are a hunter now, you will be perfectly placed. When you bring back food tomorrow, all you have to do is make it look as if another dog has stolen some before the others get to it. You know how much Alpha hates that.”

“Yes . . .” agreed Lucky dismally.

“Anyone who eats before Alpha is going to go straight to the bottom of the heap.”

Anyone who eats before Alpha will be fortunate if that is all that happens to them, thought Lucky. “Why can’t you just do it yourself?”

“Because I have you to do it for me, obviously. Look, the risk is much less for you; you must see that. If you get caught in the act, you will be demoted, but you’ll soon have clean paws again. You can do something clever, or keep using your charm on Beta. Dogs like you are always . . .” He gave an amused whine as he finished his sentence: “. . . lucky.” Sitting down, thumping his stubby tail, Whine wrinkled the corner of his mouth.

“Do not insult me,” snarled Lucky, ignoring the sting of truth. “Remember, for this to work, you need me!”

“You need me even more. Or rather, you need me to be nice to you.” Whine’s eyes gleamed with arrogant triumph. “You know I’m right, Street Dog. You wouldn’t be risking nearly as much as I would.”