Mastered By His Mercy (Taken by His Alpha #9)

Chapter 1

“Would anyone like to share their progress this week?”

The leather chair creaks under my weight as I shift and cross my arms over my chest.

The therapist who comes to Rockford Manor every week would call my body language closed off, and she’d be right. I don’t want to be here, talking about my feelings, not even when the only other people in our group therapy session are considered family.

Dr. Caroline Vance balances her clipboard on her knee as she scans our faces with patience.

The other five survivors fidget in their chairs. Phoenix stares at his hands, thin shoulders hunched forward as if he’s trying to disappear. Leo is ready to fall asleep, his blond head tipping toward his chest before he jerks upright.

Micah meets the therapist’s eyes with the ease of someone used to staring into a camera and playing a role, and Milo glares at the ceiling. Saint sits beside me, slouched with his ankle crossed over his knee, not wanting to be here any more than I do, but he promised his mate he’d try.

None of us rushes to speak, and the silence pulses between us like a living thing.

“I’ve been sleeping better,” Phoenix finally offers, just above a whisper. “I mean, when Damien isn’t home. The urge to crawl under the bed isn’t there anymore. At least, not every time.”

The therapist nods, her pen scratching out notes. “That’s significant progress, Phoenix.”

My jaw tightens. Progress. As if not hiding under the bed means the monsters aren’t still out there, breathing and walking free. My fingers twitch on my biceps.

Saint leans toward me to whisper, “Tonight, right? The buyer from Tony’s operation?”

My fingers dig into my biceps. Tony. The bastard whose omega trafficking ring had landed most of us in this therapy circle.

The man who built an empire on stolen Omegas, pulling them from clubs, from shitty apartments, from anywhere no one would come looking.

Using Rockford businesses to do it. Using us.

But he overplayed his hand when he went after Leo, Aaiden’s now brother-in-law. The asshole thought it was a good idea to try to ransom Leo. That was the beginning of a war.

Over the last year, we’ve taken most of his network apart. Dismantled his routes. Cut off his buyers. Drove him into whatever hole he’s been hiding in since.

But not deep enough.

“Yeah, after this bullshit session wraps up.”

“Need backup?” His words are casual, but I catch the desire for violence underneath. “I can be there in twenty if you call.”

“Got it covered,” I murmur back, watching the therapist pretend not to notice our exchange. “I’ll be in and out fast. Easy job.”

Saint’s dark eyes narrow. “You said that last time. Came back beat to shit.”

“Doesn’t count.” My reply comes through gritted teeth.

The mark I took down was a big one, and I may have overestimated my hand-to-hand combat skills. Which is why tonight I’ll be using my knife.

“If you need anything—” Saint starts.

“I appreciate it,” I cut him off, already knowing I won’t call.

These kills are mine alone. Each one is payment for what was taken from me.

The therapist clears her throat. “Jade? Anything you’d like to share today?”

“Nothing worth mentioning.”

She waits, pen poised, but I stare back, unflinching. After fifteen seconds, she shifts her attention to Micah, who launches into a story about a nightmare that woke him up, but how Sebastian helped him through it.

The hour creeps by. I track the second hand on the wall clock, counting down the minutes to freedom. When the therapist closes her notebook and thanks us for our participation, my muscles uncoil with relief.

“Same time next week,” she says, as if we have a choice. “Remember your coping exercises.”

As we file out of the therapy room into the hallway, the scent of coffee that no one touched gives way to the rich wood polish of Rockford Manor’s corridors. Early evening light streams through tall windows, illuminating the gathering of Alphas waiting outside.

Liam steps forward first, his arms encircling Milo with careful strength.

Milo’s entire body relaxes, the tension draining away as Liam’s lips brush his forehead.

“How was it?” Liam asks with a comforting rumble.

Milo shakes his fiery red hair back. “Pamper me, and it will all be okay.”

Beside them, Nolan cradles an infant to his broad chest, the baby’s tiny fingers curled around his father’s thumb. Leo’s angelic features transform at the sight, soft with a soul-deep contentment.

“He’s been asking for you,” Nolan says, transferring their son into Leo’s waiting arms. His hand lingers on Leo’s lower back as they bend over their burbling baby.

Across the hallway, Sebastian stands with arms crossed, his scarred face unreadable until Micah approaches. Then the hard lines soften as Micah tucks himself into Sebastian’s side. The Alpha’s fingers thread through Micah’s hair with surprising gentleness.

Phoenix moves toward Oliver and Dominic. Oliver whispers something, and Phoenix’s lips twitch into a smile as Dominic wraps a blanket around his small mate’s shoulders.

Even Saint has someone waiting. Gabriel pushes off from the wall where he’s been leaning, not demanding touch, but there if Saint needs it.

I stand alone in the center of the hallway, the space around me empty and cold. My focus drifts toward the end of the corridor, where Aaiden’s office door remains shut. The light spilling from underneath proves he’s inside. Proves he’s aware of what time therapy ends.

Proves he chooses not to be here.

The familiar ache spreads through my chest, sharper than any knife wound. Six months since my rescue, and he still treats me like damaged goods.

Every Alpha here has claimed their Omega, has crossed the divide of trauma to build a solid relationship.

“You heading out?” Saint’s question breaks through my thoughts.

Gabriel stands a respectful distance behind him.

I tear my attention away from Aaiden’s door. “Got prep to do.”

“Want to hit the gym first?” Saint suggests, casting a frown toward Aaiden’s closed door. “Work off some tension before your job? I could spot you.”

I consider it. The weight room might help burn away this crawling sensation under my skin, the restless energy that builds before a hunt.

“I’ll join,” Micah says, stepping away from Sebastian. “I need to keep working on my self-defense skills, and since you guys refused to approve any of the classes we’ve gone to…”

“Because they were all crap,” Saint growls.

Before I can accept their offer, a familiar voice calls from down the hallway. “Jade! There you are, baby.”

I turn to see my mother, a brave smile on her lips, and the disappointment at being left alone eases at the sight.

“Next time,” I tell Saint and Micah, before I turn to walk toward her. “Hey, ma, what’s up?”

“Come have a sit down with me.” She gestures back the way she came.

My steps are slow. “Now I’m nervous.”

She huffs at me. “Can’t a mother have a moment with her child without something being wrong?”

“No, not in my experience.”

But I follow when she turns to bustle ahead of me into the kitchen, her shoes clicking on the tiles in a familiar rhythm that was the soundtrack to my childhood.

With a flick of her wrist, she dismisses the two staff members preparing dinner, her authority in this space absolute despite her position as head housekeeper and not chief cook.

The kitchen transforms into our private island, separate from the wealth and power that surrounds us in the rest of Rockford Manor.

“You’re too thin,” she declares, already pulling containers from the massive refrigerator. “Have you eaten today?”

“You saw me at breakfast, ma.” I slide onto a stool at the center island, the marble cool beneath my hands.

She ignores my protest and places a thick sandwich in front of me, the bread still warm from baking. “Turkey and avocado. Your favorite.”

Once, I would have devoured it without hesitation. Now, food turns to ash in my mouth most days, my appetite another casualty of what happened. I pick at the crust to appease her.

“I wish you’d eat more.” She turns away to prepare tea, the familiar clinking of cups and saucers filling the silence between us. “You’re going out again tonight, aren’t you?”

I take a small bite of the sandwich, forcing myself to chew and swallow. “Just a small job.”

“A small job.” Her shoulders stiffen. “That’s what you call hunting down those men now? Jobs?”

“It’s what they are.”

She sets a steaming mug in front of me with more force than necessary, tea sloshing up the sides. “I never should have agreed to let Caleb train you. You should be at university, meeting nice people your own age, studying business or art or whatever subject would bring you happiness.”

“I love my job.”

She leans closer, lowering her voice. “You love being a hitman?” She tsks as she straightens. “Why couldn’t you have gone to art school with Ezra instead?”

“Well, for one, he fast-tracked through high school and graduated before I finished my freshman year,” I point out. “And two, he didn’t go to art school to become an artist.”

No, Ezra only needed the degree to offer a legitimate screen for his very illegal art smuggling. All part of the Rockford family business. He’d taken it a step further, the overachiever, and found himself an art forger as a mate.

“These poor boys. If their parents had been around more often…” She shakes her head, as if leaving their housekeeper to raise them all wasn’t the best thing that could have happened to the Rockford Alphas.

Light streams through the kitchen windows, catching the silver strands in her black hair. When did those appear? Were they there before I was taken, or did my two months in captivity etch them into her? My chest tightens at the thought.

“I’m good at what I do,” I say, more gently.

“Too good.” She busies herself wiping down the already clean counters. “Caleb saw your potential as soon as your secondary gender presented. It used to fill me with such pride. Now I wish you’d been terrible at the job.”