Chapter 48 #2
"And me?" I pressed myself against the headboard, my heart pounding, my scent spiking with fear and fury intertwined, my teeth bared in a warning that he seemed determined to ignore. "What am I in this sick little revenge fantasy?"
"You?" His smile returned, but there was no warmth in it, no humanity — just cold calculation and hungry want, his tongue sliding across his lower lip as his eyes raked over me in a way that made my skin crawl, that made me want to scrub myself raw.
"You're the prize, little Omega. The crown jewel of my collection.
" He leaned closer, and I bared my teeth at him, a growl rumbling low in my chest. "An unbonded Omega, claimed by a pack of four Alphas who didn't have the sense to mark you when they had the chance.
Do you have any idea how valuable you are?
How rare? Omegas like you don't come around once in a generation. "
"I'm not a thing to be collected." The growl grew louder, more feral, my vision narrowing to the threat in front of me, my body coiling to strike if he came any closer, every muscle tensed and ready. "I'm not property. I'm not a prize."
"Everyone is property." He said it like it was a simple fact, like he was explaining basic mathematics to a slow child, his dark eyes cold and certain and utterly empty of anything like empathy.
"Everyone belongs to someone. The only question is who has the power to claim them.
" He straightened, smoothing his jacket with those manicured hands, composing himself back into that polished mask of civility.
"I have power. Money. Influence. I can give you things those ranchers never could — comfort, luxury, a life of ease.
You'd never have to work another day in your life.
Never have to muck another stall or mend another fence. "
"I like mucking stalls." I spat the words at him, my hands shaking with the effort of not launching myself at his throat. "I like mending fences. I like working beside my pack, building something real with people who actually care about me. I want my pack. I want my home. I want you to let me go."
"That's not going to happen." He said it simply, without malice, like he was stating the weather, like my entire life didn't hang in the balance. "In time, you'll come to accept that. In time, you'll be grateful for what I've given you."
"I will never—" I started to snarl, but he held up a hand, cutting me off, something shifting in his expression.
"My mother was an Omega." The words stopped me cold, unexpected and jarring, like a bucket of ice water over my head.
Easton moved to the window again, his back to me, his voice taking on that distant quality again, lost in memories I wanted no part of.
"Beautiful, spirited. The most stunning woman I've ever seen.
My father worshipped her — gave her everything, denied her nothing.
" His shoulders tensed, his hands fisting at his sides, his reflection in the glass going hard and bitter.
"And she left him. Took her things in the middle of the night, didn't even leave a note.
Just disappeared. Left him broken. Left me. "
I didn't say anything. Couldn't. Just watched as something like pain flickered across his profile before hardening back into ice.
"I was ten years old." His voice was bitter now, sharp with old wounds that had never healed, that had festered and rotted into something poisonous.
"I woke up and she was just... gone. All her things, all her clothes, even the photographs of her.
Like she'd never existed. Like I'd never existed.
" He turned to face me, and I saw something terrible in his eyes — not just hunger, but a desperate, twisted need that went far deeper than simple desire, that spoke to wounds carved into his soul before he was old enough to understand them.
"My father spent six months trying to find her.
Hired private detectives, called in favors, spent a fortune. And do you know what he discovered?"
I shook my head, mute, a sick feeling growing in my stomach.
"She couldn't handle being bonded to just one Alpha.
" His lips twisted, ugly and cruel. "She wanted more.
Always more. A pack, she said in the letter she left with her sister.
A real pack, with multiple bonds, multiple Alphas, an Omega's proper due.
" He practically spat the last words. "My father gave her everything.
Everything. And it wasn't enough. She chose them — strangers, men she'd met through some underground matching service — over her own family. Over her own son."
"That's not—" I shook my head, trying to find words for the wrongness of what he was saying, the twisted logic that had warped his entire worldview. "That's not about Omegas being property. That's about people needing different things. That's about compatibility and biology and—"
"That's about weakness." He cut me off, his voice sharp as a blade, his eyes flashing with fury.
"That's about Omegas who don't know their place, who think they can have everything, who destroy families because they're too selfish to be satisfied with what they have.
" He moved closer again, and this time I was ready — when he reached for me, I lunged.
My teeth found his hand, biting down hard, my canines breaking skin, copper flooding my mouth. He howled, jerking back, and I used the momentum to scramble across the bed, putting the heavy furniture between us, my chest heaving, my lips pulled back in a feral snarl, his blood on my teeth.
"Don't touch me." The words came out guttural, barely human, my Omega completely subsumed by the survival instincts that had kept me alive for nine years on my own.
I grabbed the brass lamp from the nightstand, brandishing it like a weapon, my injured ankle screaming as I put weight on it. "Don't ever touch me."
Easton cradled his bleeding hand, staring at me with something that looked almost like admiration mixed with his rage, his dark eyes bright with a terrifying intensity, his chest heaving with rapid breaths.
"There it is." He breathed, his voice rough with pain but threaded with excitement that made my stomach turn.
"There's that fire. That's what I want. That's what those ranchers will never be able to tame, no matter how soft they make you.
" He wrapped a silk handkerchief around his wounded hand, his movements deliberate, controlled, his eyes never leaving mine.
"You're wasted on them, you know. Four gentle Alphas who treat you like glass, who coddle you and pet you and let you think you have choices.
" His smile turned cruel, blood seeping through the silk.
"I won't make that mistake. I know exactly what you are, what you need. "
"You don't know anything about me." I stayed behind the barrier of the bed, lamp raised, my body trembling with adrenaline, my ankle screaming with pain, my heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat.
"I know everything about you." He said it with absolute certainty, reaching into his jacket pocket with his uninjured hand and pulling out a folder — thin, manila, filled with papers I couldn't read from this distance.
"Aster. No last name on record. Former foster child, bounced between twelve different homes before you aged out of the system.
" He flipped through the pages, his eyes scanning the contents with cold interest, reciting my life like a grocery list. "Ran away at sixteen after your last foster father tried to bond you against your will.
Spent years on the street, working odd jobs, never staying anywhere longer than a few months. Always running. Always hiding."
My blood ran cold. He'd been watching me. Researching me. Knew things I'd never told anyone, not even my pack.
"Did you think I approached you in town by accident?
" His eyes found mine, glittering with triumph.
"Did you think any of this was chance? I've had my eye on you since the day you arrived at Longhorn.
Saw you in town that first week, before you'd even settled in, before they'd even given you a real job.
I could smell the potential on you — feral, unbroken, desperate for somewhere to belong.
" His smile widened, sharp and predatory.
"I thought about approaching you then. Making you mine before the Caldwells even knew what they had.
But I decided to wait. Let them do the hard work of socializing you, of teaching you to trust. Then I'd take you when you were ready. "
"I'll never be ready." I hissed, my nails digging into the brass lamp until my knuckles went white. "I'll never be yours. I'd rather die than let you bond me."
"No, you wouldn't." He said it with infuriating certainty, moving toward the door, keeping his distance but watching me with those cold, calculating eyes.
"You're a survivor, Aster. That's what I like about you.
You'll fight and snarl and bite — and I'll enjoy every moment of breaking that resistance — but in the end, you'll do whatever it takes to stay alive.
" He paused at the door, one hand on the frame, blood dripping from his bandaged wound onto the expensive carpet.
"The question is just how much pain you want to endure before you accept the inevitable. "
"They'll find me." I said it like a prayer, like a promise, my voice cracking despite my best efforts. "Reid and Sawyer and Nolan and Kol. They'll tear this place apart to get to me. They'll kill anyone who stands in their way."
"Oh, I'm counting on it." His smile turned vicious, his eyes glittering with dark anticipation. "In fact, I'm hoping they try. It would make everything so much simpler if they gave me a reason to deal with them... permanently."
The word hit me like a blow, stealing the breath from my lungs. He wasn't just planning to keep me. He was planning to kill them. To use me as bait, to lure them in, to destroy everything I loved.
"No." The word came out broken, desperate, the lamp trembling in my grip. "No, please. Whatever you want, whatever you need — I'll do it. Just don't hurt them. Please."
Something shifted in his expression — satisfaction, maybe, or triumph. Like I'd finally said the magic words he'd been waiting for.
"There it is." He said softly, almost gently, like a lover sharing an intimate moment.
"That's what I was waiting for. That's how I know I've already won.
" He opened the door, pausing to look back at me one last time, framed in the doorway like a monster from a nightmare.
"Think about what I've said, little Omega.
Think about what you're willing to sacrifice to keep your precious pack alive.
I'll be back in a few hours, and we can. .. discuss terms."
The door closed behind him with a heavy click, and I heard the sound of locks engaging — multiple locks, from the sound of it, heavy and industrial, designed to keep someone in rather than keep someone out.
The lamp fell from my nerveless fingers, clattering to the floor.
I slid down the side of the bed, my legs giving out, my whole body shaking with sobs I couldn't suppress. The room was beautiful and terrible, a prison disguised as luxury, and I was trapped inside it with a madman who wanted to destroy everything I loved.
Reid. Nolan. Kol. Sawyer.
Their faces swam behind my closed eyes — Reid's steady dark gaze full of quiet devotion, Nolan's gentle smile and patient hands, Kol's sunshine warmth that made even the darkest days brighter, Sawyer's fierce protection and his understanding of the darkness I carried.
They would come for me. I knew they would, as surely as I knew my own name.
That was who they were. That was what pack meant.
Easton was expecting that. Counting on it.
Planning to use their love against them, to turn their greatest strength into the weapon of their destruction.
I had to find a way out. Had to warn them somehow.
Had to do something besides sit here and wait for the trap to close around the people I loved most in the world.
My ankle was swelling purple and hot, my head was pounding from the blow he'd given me, and every exit was barred or guarded or locked.
This room was designed to hold someone, and it was holding me.
I pressed my forehead to my knees, breathing through the panic, trying to think past the fear and the pain and the despair threatening to swallow me whole.
Easton wanted me broken. Wanted me compliant.
Wanted me to beg. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction.
Not yet. Not ever if I could help it. His words echoed in my mind, poisonous and persistent, burrowing into the soft places where hope still lived: Think about what you're willing to sacrifice to keep your precious pack alive.
Everything, I thought, the word settling into my chest like a stone. I would sacrifice everything.
Even myself.
The thought was cold and heavy and certain.
If it came down to my freedom or their lives, there was no question.
No hesitation. I would do whatever Easton wanted, become whatever he needed, endure whatever he did to me, if it meant keeping them safe.
That was what love meant. That was what pack meant.
I wasn't broken yet. I still had teeth. I still had claws. I still had the feral instincts that had kept me alive for nine years when everyone else had given up on me.
First, I would fight. First, I would snarl and bite and claw and make him earn every inch of ground. And pray that they found me before I had to make the choice that would destroy us all.
The afternoon light crept across the floor in golden bars, marking time in a prison that smelled of wrong and tasted like despair. I stayed huddled against the bed, watching the door, waiting for Easton to return with his terms and his threats and his twisted version of mercy.
Waiting for rescue that might never come.
Waiting to see which would break first — my body or my spirit or my heart.
Outside, somewhere beyond the bars and the guards and the locked doors, the sun was setting over Longhorn Ranch. Over home. Over the four men who were probably tearing the county apart looking for me, who wouldn't stop until they found me or died trying.