Chapter 47
FORTY-SEVEN
Kieran paces in front of his desk, his face flushed. He doesn’t look at me or speak to me, but if I tried to leave, I think he’d stop me.
I am a pretty paperweight on the corner of a desk.
I am a trophy on a shelf.
I don’t know where Atlas is. Puck took him for “processing,” whatever that means.
It’s a good sign that I’m not with them, right? And that Puck is in charge of this? Kieran must still trust the Alpha in disguise.
Because if he didn’t, he wouldn’t have put him in charge of the male Omega, who is supposedly so valuable.
It’s wild that I know intimately that Atlas isn’t an Omega, but I still ached to hear Wyatt treat him that way.
It was a convincing act.
“Queenie,” Kieran snaps, suddenly remembering I’m here. “Strip.”
My stomach does a flip, and bile rises in my throat. “I…”
“I don’t want to hear your fucking excuses,” he snarls. “Strip. Now.”
Still, I don’t move. I can’t.
This isn’t like the other times when he’s given me an outfit that barely shows anything and had me dress up like a doll.
This is darker.
More dangerous.
Kieran reaches into the back of his pants and pulls out a gun, aiming it directly at me. “I’m not fucking joking, Queenie. Strip right the fuck now!” I’m on my feet instantly, scrambling to peel off my jeans and t-shirt. He watches me intently and then snarls, “All of it.”
And that is how I’m left standing naked in front of Kieran Cobb, with a gun pointed at my fucking head.
Maybe I should let him shoot me because I know what comes next.
It’s not like I haven’t thought about killing myself over the past few years. There have been times when I’ve even gotten close. But I could never pull the proverbial trigger.
Because when I look at it objectively, a single day in the Conglomerate isn’t terrible.
But it’s been four years.
Four years on edge, wondering if today will be the day he decides I’m not worth keeping around, and he sells me to the highest bidder.
Four years of fearing my family would be hurt if I stepped out of line.
Four years of having to let gross men feel me up as I sell them party drugs.
Four years of Kieran Cobb’s unwavering attention.
Four years of forced bonds.
Tears roll down my face, and I shiver, but it’s not because the room is cold.
It’s because I’m scared.
I can finally admit it now that I’m naked and vulnerable in front of my jailer.
I’m so fucking scared.
I don’t want to die anymore.
I have a pack.
I want to be able to fall in love with them.
I want to listen to Gage’s horrible jokes and Maverick’s unstoppable rambling. I want to whisper in Emmanuel’s arms about plot holes we’ve found in movies.
I want to get to know Puck. The real Puck. Not this facsimile of the Alpha he’s presented for as long as I’ve known him. The Puck that wants to look like his dad and collects discarded things to make them into something beautiful.
But I won’t get to.
I let myself hope, for just a moment, that I could be a regular Omega, that I could have a pack that loved me, and that we could live a life together.
It wouldn’t be easy; we’d have to work on our relationships daily, but it would be worth it.
I don’t know why I let myself have those dreams.
Because I’ve known all along.
The Queen is nothing but the shield the King hides behind.
And to take down the Conglomerate, I’m going to have to go with him.
* * *
My body aches.
I’ve been standing naked, at attention, for two hours. Kieran hangs the gun loosely by his side, but just because it’s not aimed at me doesn’t mean it’s not a threat.
“Kieran,” I say through a raspy throat. I could really use some water. “What can I do? You seem distressed.”
He whips his gaze up to me. “Oh, I seem distressed? Do I, Queenie?” He laughs hollowly. “Of course I’m distressed! The fucking FBI is on my heels, raiding my one remaining manufacturing facility. Because of this, I must redirect the production of fizz to a backup facility that lacks the necessary bandwidth to adequately support my needs. I’ve got sales lined up for massive amounts to break into the European, South American, and Asian markets, and I can’t fulfill them because I had to send my manufacturing dark!”
He runs his hands through his hair, messing up the slicked-back salt and pepper strands. When he releases them, and they fall haphazardly in his eyes, a sense of deja vu that is so strong I can’t ignore it smacks me in the face.
There is something about him that is so familiar, and not in the “you’ve held me hostage for four years” way.
“So yes, of course, I’m distressed. I’ve got to figure a way out of this fucking mess, and then I find out you’ve gone and packed yourself up? I ignored your heat sharing with Tyler, but this is different!”
How does he know about my time with Tyler? Does that mean he knows who Atlas is? Fuck, he can’t know.
“Do you not realize how fucking weak this makes me look?” A growl rumbles in his chest, and the sour smell of his pheromones hits me square in the chest. “You are mine, Crystal. Everyone knows it. And then you’re off galavanting around with some weak fucking Alphas and a Beta?”
I don’t like that he knows the makeup of my pack.
There’s no telling how much he knows about them. I can only pray it’s not anything more than that.
“You’re a smart girl, Crystal. It’s why I’ve always liked you. You did that showcase your final year at the Omega Academy, do you remember? The talent show that was supposed to convince packs to sign up for socials?”
“How do you know about that?” I hated that event. Every year, the senior Omegas have to put on this event like show dogs to convince the packs that we’re worth pursuing. I tried so hard to get out of it, but they wouldn’t let me.
He ignores my question. “All the other Omegas were predictable. Dance routines, musical instruments. A few even did some sewing bullshit and cooking demonstrations. But not you, Crystal Manson.” He leans against the edge of his desk, scratching his temple with the barrel of his gun.
Did no one teach this man basic gun safety?
I hope it fucking goes off.
“No,” he continues, “you got up there and did a science experiment.”
“It wasn’t a science experiment,” I snap, unable to help myself. “It was a demonstration on gene therapy and my theory on how someone could modify existing genes using a complex splicing process, effectively altering a living person’s DNA.”
He doubles over, laughing at my words. “That! That’s what I mean. You’ve got Omegas trying to be perfect playing the violin, and then you come up there with a fucking slideshow presentation! Maybe my life would’ve been easier if I picked out a vapid, shallow Omega, but where’s the fun in that? The challenge?” He stalks over to me, resting the tip of his gun under my chin. My knees grow weak with fear. “No, I wanted someone who could challenge me. Match me.”
Memories of angry phone calls and letters from the Academy, insisting I come to socials I had no interest in, assault me. “You were requesting me at socials, weren’t you?”
Kieran spins on his toes quickly and paces away from me. “I admit, I thought maybe you’d fall in love with me, and I wouldn’t have to keep you here forcibly. But then you refused to go to the socials. You were supposed to come to the socials, Crystal, and none of this would’ve happened. Your sister and niece would be safe. Your brother-in-law would still be alive.”
Is he - fuck, no. He can’t be serious.
But the maniacal glint in his eyes tells me he is very serious.
“C’mon, Queenie, I thought you would have it all figured out by now. Since you refused to come to socials and meet me, I needed a way to get you under my thumb. Your brother-in-law was already using. It was an easy accident to arrange. And, just like I expected, you fell right into my lap.”
Kieran Cobb has been a specter over my life for six years, even if I only knew him for four.
He’s planned this for years, spun his web, and I am trapped within it.
I’m at his whim.
“It’s why I am fucking furious about what happens now. All the time and effort that I put into getting you here is now about to be thrown away. Because I’m fucked, Crystal. I committed fizz to these men, and if I can’t provide it, I will look weak, and they’ll try to slide into my territory. So I have to distract them with something better.”
His eyes trace down my body, and I ache to cover myself. But I know it’s pointless.
Because the words that come out of his mouth next are so predictable, I could’ve written them before they fell out of his cracked lips.
“That’s where you come in. You’re the apology. You’re the thing they will pay attention to while I sort out the rest of it. I’ll trade the male Omega for a higher volume manufacturing facility, and everything will get back on track.” He crosses the room and gathers my hands in his. “I never wanted to do this. You’re my Queen. I’ve always called you that. But you had to go and get a pack. You couldn’t be happy with the comfortable life I’ve provided you. You had to bring civilians into this.”
“I didn’t bring them into this, I swear!” I insist. “Please, they don’t know anything.”
He cups my cheek in his hand. The warmth of his touch contrasts with the chill of his words. “That’s not true, Queenie. I know about the Beta that was at your house before we went to pick up the Omega.”
My stomach bottoms out, and the only thing keeping me from collapsing on the ground is his hand around my throat. He tightens his grip, pulling me up by my jaw. “But he won’t be a problem for much longer. You don’t think I’ve done my research on all of the men you’ve let between your legs recently?” He makes a tsking noise and pulls me to his chest, resting my cheek against him. “Of course, I wasn’t planning on doing anything, but I have to since he overheard us. Gage Matthews.” He inhales sharply like he’s rolling the name over his tongue. “I’ll make it quick for him, I promise. After all, he is my son.”