Chapter 38 #4
Vale went first, slipping through a servant's entrance with the grace that came naturally to him even in this strange human form.
His silver eyes were sharp with focus, his beautiful features composed into an expression of pleasant neutrality.
His voice was our greatest weapon—even without the full power of a siren's call, he could still influence, suggest, persuade.
Within minutes, the guards outside the main hall had wandered away, their expressions blank and confused, and Vale returned with a thin smile on his beautiful face and blood on his hands.
"The back entrance is clear." His silver eyes glinted in the lamplight, cold and satisfied, and he wiped his stained hands on a cloth he'd taken from one of the fallen guards. "I counted thirty guests, plus servants and guards. Marcus is near the stage, watching the proceedings."
"Any omegas?" Lily asked, her voice tight with dread, her hands clenched at her sides. Her whole body had gone rigid, tension radiating from every line of her frame.
"Three. In cages on the stage, waiting to be sold." Vale's expression darkened, his jaw tightening with barely contained fury, his silver eyes flashing with cold rage. His hands curled into fists, the cloth crumpling between his fingers. "Two women and a young man. They look broken."
Lily's hands curled into fists, her nails digging into her palms hard enough to leave marks.
"Then we move now. Before they sell anyone else.
" Her voice was hard, commanding, and I felt a surge of pride at the steel in her spine, at the predator she'd become.
We entered the main hall through the servant's corridor, emerging behind a heavy curtain that hid us from view.
The scene before us was exactly as terrible as I'd imagined—a glittering ballroom filled with well-dressed monsters, their faces flushed with wine and excitement as they bid on human beings displayed on a raised stage at the far end of the room.
Standing near the stage, a glass of wine in his hand and a satisfied smile on his face, was Marcus.
I recognized him from Coral's description—tall, well-fed, with the sleek look of a man who had grown rich on the suffering of others.
His clothes were expensive silk and velvet, his jewelry ostentatious gold and gemstones, his entire bearing radiating the smug confidence of someone who believed himself untouchable.
His dark hair was slicked back from a face that might have been handsome if not for the cruelty lurking in his small, calculating eyes.
He was about to learn otherwise.
"On my signal," I breathed to the others, my voice barely audible even to their enhanced hearing.
"Riven—the guards. Vale—the doors. Thane—the cages.
Lily..." I looked at my mate, at the cold fury burning in her dark eyes, at the predator lurking beneath her human skin.
"Marcus is yours to confront. But when you're done talking—he belongs to all of us. "
"Good." The word came out low, vicious, her jaw tight with barely contained rage, her whole body coiled like a spring about to release. Her dark eyes never left Marcus's face. "I want him to suffer. I want him to feel every moment of what's coming."
I nodded once, then stepped out from behind the curtain. For a moment, no one noticed us. The auctioneer was in the middle of his patter, his oily voice carrying across the ballroom, and the guests were focused on their bidding paddles and their wine glasses.
Then someone screamed.
Riven had found the guards.
Chaos erupted. Guests scrambled for the exits, their expensive clothes tangling around their legs, their faces twisted with terror, only to find Vale waiting for them, his beautiful face twisted into something terrible, his hands already red with blood.
The auctioneer stumbled backward off the stage, his mouth opening and closing uselessly, his composure shattered.
And Marcus—Marcus stood frozen, his wine glass slipping from nerveless fingers to shatter on the marble floor in an explosion of red liquid and crystal shards. His face had gone white as bone, his eyes fixed on the four figures stalking toward him through the pandemonium.
"Do you know who I am?" he said, his voice shrill and panicked, nothing like the smooth confidence he'd worn moments before.
He backed away, his expensive shoes crunching on broken glass, sweat beading on his forehead, his hands raised as if to ward us off.
"Do you have any idea who you're dealing with?
I have connections—powerful connections—"
"You have nothing," Lily's voice cut through his babbling like a blade through silk, cold and absolute.
She stepped forward, her human body moving with a predator's grace, and I saw Marcus's face go pale as recognition flickered in his eyes.
His mouth worked soundlessly, his small eyes going wide.
"You had gold, and you used it to buy people.
You had power, and you used it to destroy lives. But that's over now."
"You—" Marcus's voice cracked, his eyes going wide with dawning horror, his whole body trembling. A dark stain was spreading down the front of his expensive trousers. "You're the omega. The one from the Ashford contract. You're supposed to be—"
"Yours?" Lily smiled, and there was nothing warm in it, nothing human.
Six months of living with sirens had taught her how to bare her teeth like a predator.
Her dark eyes glittered with ancient, cold satisfaction.
"I was never yours. I was never anyone's property.
And now you're going to answer for every omega you ever bought. Every life you’ve ever destroyed.
Every family you ever tore apart for profit. "
"Please," the word came out as a whimper, all pretense of power stripped away.
Marcus fell to his knees, his expensive clothes soaking up wine and blood from the floor, his hands raised in supplication, tears streaming down his face.
"Please, I'll give you anything. Money, information, whatever you want. Just let me live."
Lily looked down at him for a long moment, and I felt her emotions churning through the bond—rage and disgust and a terrible, righteous satisfaction. Her expression didn't waver, didn't soften, didn't show a single crack of mercy.
"You know what I wanted?" her voice was soft now, almost gentle, which made it somehow more terrifying.
She crouched down, bringing her face level with his, close enough that he could see every detail of her expression.
"I wanted my parents to love me. I wanted to present as a beta and live a normal life.
I wanted to never know what it felt like to be sold like livestock.
" Her hand came up to rest against his cheek, almost gentle, and Marcus whimpered at the touch, flinching away from her fingers.
"You took that from me. You and my parents and everyone else who looked at me and saw property instead of a person. "
She stood, stepping back, her expression cold and final, her eyes empty of anything but judgment.
"Now I'm taking everything from you." She turned to look at Riven, at Vale, at me.
Her dark eyes met each of ours in turn, and I saw the fire burning there, the hunger for justice that matched our own.
"Make it last. Make him feel every second of it.
I want him to understand exactly what he's done before he dies. "
Riven's scarred face split into a savage grin, his golden eyes blazing with anticipation, his whole body practically vibrating with barely contained violence.
"With pleasure, little flower." His voice was a low rumble of satisfaction, dark and eager.
We dragged Marcus through the chaos of the ballroom, past the bodies of his guards and his wealthy guests, past the overturned tables and the shattered champagne glasses, into a back room that had clearly been used for less savory purposes than entertaining.
Chains hung from the ceiling. Dark stains marked the floor.
The smell of old fear permeated everything.
"How fitting." Vale murmured, his silver eyes taking in the details with cold appreciation, his beautiful features twisted with disgust. He ran one finger along a chain, watching it sway. "He can die in the same room where he broke so many others."
We chained Marcus to the wall, his arms stretched above his head, his expensive clothes already torn and stained with the blood of his fallen associates.
He was crying now—great heaving sobs that shook his whole body, snot and tears running down his face in undignified streaks.
His chest heaved with each ragged breath, his whole body trembling against the cold stone.
"Please," he blubbered, his voice cracking and breaking, barely intelligible through his sobs. "Please, I have money. I have so much money. I can give you anything you want. Names—I can give you names of everyone in the network. Buyers, suppliers, everyone. Just please, please don't—"
"We don't want your names." I stepped forward, letting him see the predator beneath the human skin, letting my eyes go cold and ancient and utterly without mercy.
I tilted my head, studying him the way I would study prey, and I saw him flinch from whatever he saw in my expression.
"We don't want your money. We want you to understand something, Marcus.
We want you to truly comprehend, in these last hours of your miserable life, exactly what you've done. "
"Hours?" The word came out as a squeak, his face going grey with terror, his eyes rolling like a frightened animal's.