SUN #2
No answer. His black eyes bore into me. There’s no visible difference between the iris and pupil. Just a void.
"Listen, I… can I get a drag? I’m not feeling great. Or… do you have a spare?"
Nothing. Cold and indifferent. I can’t get a read on him at all.
His heart doesn’t even speed up. I take a breath and catch his scent.
He’s using suppressants, so all I can really smell is strong laundry detergent, soap, and some kind of cool, plant-based fragrance.
Something like green tea, maybe mixed with grapefruit.
From experience, I know people on suppressants tend to use scent blends that resemble their natural Allure. I do the same.
A few more seconds pass, and I swallow hard. The longer I wait for a reaction, the more uncomfortable he makes me feel.
"Okay. Sorry to bother you…" I mumble, and I’m about to take a step back when he suddenly reaches out and hands me the vape.
Blinking, I take it, flinching a little when our fingers touch. A strange, cold shiver runs through me.
I take a drag. It’s strong. My nerves settle almost immediately, and I remind myself not to overdo it. Bay gave me a few puffs once. It hit me way too hard. I need to be careful.
"Wow. Strong. One drag’s enough for me," I say with a nervous titter, clearing my throat. "My brother Bay uses them all the time, but half that strong. This is some serious shit." I flash an exaggerated grin.
No reaction. Not even a twitch.
I cough quietly, debating whether I should say something else. Not that I expect a response.
Oh, just let him leave already! Why does he have to keep standing there?!
My eyes drift over his face. He really does resemble Anzo, which isn’t exactly comforting.
He does have better lips than his uncle, though. Fuller, more sweetly shaped. Unfortunately, he keeps them tightly pressed together, and their shape only shows when he takes a drag from his vape.
Objectively, his resemblance to Anzo makes him handsome, but in that cold, aloof way. All the Ferros are good-looking, except maybe Rocco, who’s the least attractive of the bunch.
He is also fairly tall for an omega, maybe close to five-nine, so again, similar to Anzo. Ennio’s face is symmetrical and statuesque, but it’s his energy that makes him so standoffish. In a way, it’s even more intense than Anzo’s. Anzo is aloof, sure, but still more socially engaged.
Ennio takes another drag. Then, he turns his head slightly and exhales, presenting me with his elegant profile, a nose with an aristocratic line, almost Roman. But one more thing strikes me.
"You’ve got incredibly thick hair," I say, deciding to try a compliment, maybe it will break the ice? I eye his voluminous ponytail, the lush strands cascading past his back. All the Ferros have great hair, but his is especially noteworthy. It really catches the attention.
But if I thought flattery would help me get on his good side, I’m dead wrong.
Ennio has no reaction whatsoever. He takes one last drag, holds it for a moment, then exhales slowly. Without a word, he slips the vape into his pocket and walks off.
Yep. Solid interaction. Nice talking to you, strange dude.
It’s such a hot day, but he made sure the temperature dropped a few degrees.
Still, there’s one silver lining: I sort of made him leave the patio, which means I’m now free to head into the garden without raising suspicion.
Wandering around the courtyard during the hottest part of the day without a reason would definitely raise questions. The sun is blinding, the air thick with humidity.
After double-checking Ennio went inside the building, and making sure that no one else is around, I squint through the harsh light and cut across the lawn, heading straight for the gazebo.
I know Ragnar spots me as I pass within view, but he can’t just drop everything and come right away.
About twenty minutes later, after he finishes painting the trees, I hear footsteps. Then he’s standing at the edge of the gazebo.
We stare at each other for a moment.
He swallows. I know the sight of my bruises and how pale I am has hit him hard.
He’s trying not to show it, but it’s all over his face. Ragnar’s eyes are filled with both sadness and happiness, if that’s even possible.
"How are you, Sun?" His voice is soft, almost tender. That warmth radiating off him squeezes something tight in my chest.
"Not great, if I’m being honest," I whisper. My voice shakes.
He makes a small movement, his hand twitches like he wants to reach out to me, but he stops himself.
Another pause. His eyes trace my face, then drop to my neck and shoulders, taking in the bruises there too.
"What did he do to you, Sun?" he asks, his voice low.
His sharp, masculine face isn’t particularly expressive, but I still can read him like a book. I can see the emotions swirling inside: pity, concern… and rage. So much rage at Anzo.
"All kinds of things," I mutter vaguely. "None of them fun." I don’t want to talk about it, to create more horror than what already lives in me. I’ve had enough of that. I glance out the window at the thick greenery in the garden.
"Are you in pain?"
I snort. "I basically am pain."
Bitterness floods my voice, and I hate it. I hate sounding like a victim. But I don’t know how to escape this feeling, this defeat.
"Why did he lock you up in there, Sun?"
"Because I wouldn’t let Rocco rape me."
Ragnar goes pale and presses his lips together.
"That sounds like something Anzo would actually be happy about."
"Yeah, I thought so too. But lately… I’ve realized Anzo is a weak capo. He holds power over them only thanks to his… electroshocks, and that might not be enough when he has to stand in front of Rocco and all that intimidating, animal sexuality alphas have."
"I’ve had the same thought, unfortunately."
"I think he was relieved that Luca took care of the Vito situation, made it clear to the soldiers that Anzo’s boys are off-limits. But Rocco… is a different case. He’s underboss. He dares to challenge Anzo more boldly."
"Yes. Again, I think the same."
"But… that’s not even the main thing. It’s not what I want to tell you. It’s the reason why Anzo let me out."
Ragnar lifts a brow.
I hesitate, then finally say it.
"He told me… if I give him Summer’s secret, he’ll let me go."
I feel Ragnar’s body tense like a wire about to snap. He turns away sharply, as if he doesn’t want me to see his face, and walks over to the gazebo window, staring outside.
After a pause, he asks slowly, "Does Summer have a secret?"
"Not that I know of," I lie, but I know he knows I’m lying.
He turns back toward me and our eyes lock. He studies me for a long moment, like he’s trying to see straight into my soul, and maybe he actually does.
"You’re not gonna tell Anzo, are you?"
What a strange way of asking. Almost as if he didn’t even hear my lie.
We’re still looking at each other, and it’s weird. Ragnar’s energy has shifted so much I almost don’t recognize him, like there’s a whole different man standing in front of me.
"Even if I knew something about Summer… Anzo would be the last person I’d ever tell."
Ragnar doesn’t move. His voice is flat.
"Even if it costs you your only shot at getting out of this place?"
I scoff bitterly.
"You really think Anzo would keep his word? Because I don’t. History proves it. None of his ex-boys came out of here unharmed. So I don’t wanna delude myself."
"You’ll never know unless you try," he says, still in that same flat tone.
"Ragnar, even if Anzo were keen on letting me go, Rocco wants me for himself. So he won’t let it happen. That’s the whole point of what I told you just before. Anzo is weak. He resets himself to a default beta mindset the second Rocco manifests his sexual energy. I’m doomed here either way."
Silence falls. Yeah. Kinda hard to respond to that.
Neither of us speaks for a long time. Ragnar stares out the window, and I stare at him.
I take in the sharp lines of his face, the sheer bulkiness of his shoulders.
There’s something magnetic about him; an energy I can’t quite define.
I feel like I know him. Deep down, like I’ve always known him.
And yet, there’s this wall between us. Unbreakable. Uncrossable.
A wall made of secrets.
Is he a cop? An agent?
Is he running some kind of operation here? He’s dodged too many questions. Brushed them off. Deflected.
But there’s no fucking way a purple alpha would just… decide to randomly be Anzo’s gardener, in this hell. That makes zero sense.
Who is he, really ?
Enchanted, I watch the strong lines of his profile, the solid muscle that knots beneath his shirt.
I catch his scent, not pheromones, just grass, soap, and man.
That ache for escape flares up again. I want to melt into him.
Let myself forget everything. Even if he’s hiding shit from me, he still feels like freedom. Like relief. Like… pleasure.
The silence stretches. And then I say it. I just push it out.
"Will you fuck me again?"
My tone is almost bitter.
Ragnar turns to me, and there’s something strange in his face. Hunger, but also compassion.
"Sun… are you sure? Won’t it hurt you? Did he—"
"Even if it does, I know I can turn it into something good with you."
I lift my hand and place it on his bare bicep, where the gyrfalcon spreads its wings on the tattoo.
Gosh, my whole body immediately shudders with pleasure. My cock twitches. Ragnar’s skin is hot, electric. I want to dissolve into him, disappear inside his strong aura.
Yes…
"When I was locked in that cage… so many of my thoughts were about those moments with you," I whisper. "They’re the only times I still feel alive. Every other second, I’m already dead ," I add, while my fingers gently trace along his arm.
Making an immense effort, I try to catch his pheromones again, something to cling to, but all I feel is the heat of his skin. And even that pulls me in. I want to touch him, to become a part of his power.
Ragnar slowly tilts his head, gazing at me.