Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
KNOX
I hated these events.
They weren’t as bad as some—ones designed for the presentation of merchandise and for sick pleasure to be played out before the eyes of the guests. This sort of event, at least, was still a front, a pleasant mask put upon the face of a monster. It wasn’t nearly corrupt enough to require attendees to hide their faces. It was simply… networking. Accountability. The true benefactors were the more well-known faces, and there were a few high-ranking politicians here tonight.
They wanted to know that those of us involved in the business, who didn’t have so much at risk, were also willing to show ourselves now and then. Anyone who vanished entirely was shunned—or worse, targeted and branded traitors. These circles weren’t the type to accept resignation letters. Once you dabbled in their games, you were locked in for life.
When I’d claimed this title, the ties to these circles were baked in by nature. I’d decided, instead of running, I would turn up and use this position to destroy them one small piece at a time.
But to prove myself, I had to buy in—even if it was just once or twice a year to keep curious eyes at bay.
It’s why my staff wore masks: so no one discovered they were all once bought from the very ring we all gathered to support.
And who would remember? I selected nobodies. Dejected, broken creatures no one would miss. I might take them to an event or two if I had to, but then they would vanish.
It was why the petite Omega currently warming my lap posed such a problem, because no one in this room would forget her face—or that I was the one who had bought her.
“Can I bring you a drink?” Callum’s gentle voice drew me from my thoughts, and I glanced up at the slender masked man who’d stopped beside us.
There was the briefest moment in which I caught his gaze wandering to the thin chain and how Thistle was seated on my lap, but then he glanced back to me. If he was surprised at our closeness, he hid it well.
“I’ll have my usual. Thistle?” I glanced at her, then did a double take.
She was staring at Callum with wide eyes, her jaw clenched, and boy did she look vicious.
I bit back a chuckle, waiting a second longer before answering for her. “I believe that’s a no.”
Callum nodded and left.
“What is getting you so upset?” I asked, watching her curiously.
“He’s an Omega, isn’t he?” she asked.
I felt a half smile tug at my lips. “He is.”
“And he lives with you?”
“He lives in the east wing. I live in the north wing.”
She narrowed her eyes but said no more as the party went on around us.
Callum was a major asset to me: a twenty-eight-year-old male Omega and the only other I’d ever entered a bidding war for. Despite the fact I spaced out my purchases, I had, on an urge, bought him two weeks after I’d bought Christina—a Beta who had left the second she could and now lived in LA working at a coffee shop, trying to start a singing career.
I kept tabs on the ones that left, making sure they had enough to get by and access to help. And I think I just needed to know a normal life was possible after it all.
But Callum had chosen not to leave. Like some of the others, he’d decided his chance of survival wasn’t great alone. He’d taken on his role with ease—taking each newcomer from me, doing all the talking, and making up for what I hadn’t been able to offer him.
It was good because I couldn’t offer what he did. Slender, gentle, and soft-spoken he might be, but that Omega had more strength than I ever would. And I needed him because I didn’t know how to teach someone how to survive something that was still eating me alive.
Thistle went tense again as he returned with a drink he placed on the table before me.
“Callum,” I murmured.
He paused, tilting his head as he set the cup down.
“Rodrick Banner doesn’t fit in tonight,” I said.
He straightened with the faintest nod, then stepped away.
I didn’t make any of them attend nights like tonight, but Callum, Vance, and Tanisha always volunteered. The others sometimes too. I think perhaps seeing this head-on, even just every few months, helped them. I don’t know if that was because they were helping me or if they needed to be reminded that this was real.
I wouldn’t complain; once drinks had been poured, secrets were easier to come by, and my arrogant party guests often didn’t notice the quiet help.
They’d delivered me some of the most useful information I’d got from these events.
While there were security cameras in this room, none were on in here. It was a requirement of hosting, and it would be certain death if I was caught skirting that one.
Rodrick Banner was one of Bella Morgan’s—the daughter-of-a-crime-boss Omega who’d almost won the bidding war for Thistle. And tonight, one of her Alphas was here. Alone.
I didn’t like it one fucking bit.
I hated her, and she never came to events I hosted directly—not that I would explicitly stop her. No matter how much I wished to, I wouldn’t risk my position by making enemies. But stepping into my home and watching me walk around unclaimed—I think it drove her mad.
I took a sip of my drink, brushing my knuckle along Thistle’s waist to ground myself. She was following my orders well, and I itched to leave with her.
After a little more time had passed, I checked my phone to see a text from Callum that read: ‘Vance heard JC mention the Blackwells haven’t been seen in a while.’
My eyes flickered to John Carter, an old, ruddy-faced Senator who was deep into his wine and a conversation with a female Alpha in her fifties, Roselia Bunsen, who made millions from military contracts.
The Blackwells would have been noticed, eventually.
It had only been days since I’d killed the Pence lawyers. Their disappearance was explained by fake paper trails that would keep them away from the public eye for a while, but the ring would catch on.
Likely when the absence of their money went noticed.
But the Blackwell Pack I’d disposed of over six months ago—their silence was finally starting to draw attention—if only a little.
I was selective with those I killed.
The job I did every day was painstaking, gathering intel and sifting through it using my insider knowledge to help me find a legal lead from the other end. Information that could be used to blackmail. To send them to jail for other crimes. To give up another in the ring.
I targeted individuals and packs, taking them from the ring piece by piece where it wouldn’t draw suspicion—they were criminals, after all. A certain amount of risk was expected.
But I was building for something bigger. One at a time wasn’t enough for the creature that scored wounds across my soul with every day that passed, knowing there were still more—more I hadn’t stopped.
So much pain that had never been paid back.
That’s why, every once in a while, I dealt with them myself.
It wasn’t extravagance.
It was survival.
The warmth of blood trickling down my skin kept my eyes ahead.
Made it real.
Reminded me of what movement felt like when stagnation would see me drown in seconds.
Besides, sometimes… sometimes there were targets so vile the authorities weren’t enough.
Torture beyond imagining.
Those who targeted families or children…
Bile burned my throat at the shadow of a monster that stirred in the cracks and crevices of my heart, the faintest brush with the reality I’d discovered of the Pence lawyers.
The truth that turned my stomach.
I looked each one in the face before I buried it deep, knowing lingering would do nothing but get in my way, but sometimes they stirred.
Despite what Callum insisted about me, I wasn’t a saviour. My vengeance wasn’t for justice or good, nor were my principles sound—it was why I hadn’t hesitated to buy Thistle, even if I hadn’t expected a scent match of Rogue and Ace Maverick to be someone who might be worth protecting.
At the end of the day, I was a monster just like they were. They prayed on the weak, and in doing so, they’d created me: a creature who couldn’t survive without their blood, and there was enough of that to feed me for a lifetime.
But to get that blood, I had to suffer nights like this one.
Throughout the evening, a few guests approached me and struck up small conversations. Most, I thought, were curious to see Thistle since my temperamental nature was notorious and usually enough to keep parasites far back at events like this—even ones I hosted.
At one point, I spotted a shift in shadows through one of the windows that overlooked the ball from the second floor.
A smile played on my lips as I brushed Thistle’s chin with my thumb, drawing her up to face me as I twisted the chain in my grip so she couldn’t move away.
“Bite me,” I told her.
She frowned, eyes darting around as if trying to see if there was anyone in earshot. I had the distinct impression it was because she considered my rules a lot more ‘bendable’ if no one else could hear her being a brat.
“Don’t test me, Doll,” I murmured. “I’m not above much when it comes to this claim. They can watch as you bite me, or they can watch as I show them how well you take me down that tight little throat of yours.”
For a moment, I thought I saw her consider disobeying me, anyway. Either she thought it was a bluff (which, for once, it was), or she liked the idea of my claim in public more than she’d let on.
And she had no idea that while she leaned up and I felt her lips brush my neck, I met the distant teal-eyed gaze of Rogue, who had paused from the upper level, eyes fixed on us through a window.
He never came to these if I didn’t force him, which I did sometimes, muzzle and all—if only because he hated the spotlight. The way the guests stared at him was satisfying. They gave him a wide berth, uncomfortable with what he represented, and that was despite the fact none of them had discovered where I’d come from.
But today, the reason Rogue was lurking was blatantly clear, and I felt a smile on my lips as Thistle’s teeth finally dug into my flesh.
Shit, her claim felt so good, even if I’d forced it from her, and my fingers dug into her waist, heat spearing my veins.
She made it quick, drawing back, cheeks flushed, eyes darting around. From the corner of my eye, I saw her glance up at me, then follow my gaze, but by the time she turned, the window was empty.
Still, she went stiff in my arms as if she knew what had just happened. She curled back up against me, going all adorably sulky again. So, I slipped my finger into my pocket and turned on the vibrator, making her squeak in shock. Violet galaxies were wide, snapping up to me as her lips parted.
I turned it off with a smirk, happy to tease for now.
She was the only good thing about the night, and by the time it was late enough I could justify leaving, I thought I might be addicted to this: having her on my lap, bound to me for the world to see. These guests might not be my chosen onlookers, but it was still a hit of endorphins every time I felt eyes on us, sliding from her to me, to the chain that connected us.
They would trace the way my hand curled around her waist, fingers absently stroking her skin, clearly less than indifferent, chain or not.
My claim.
As the night went on, I kept catching her peering up at me, though she’d glance away the second my eyes met hers. She seemed increasingly unsure, as if she’d had a picture in her mind of how the night would go, and this wasn’t it.
That thought made me smile as I tucked my hand into my pocket and turned on the vibrator again. Every time I did, her fingers dug in, teeth catching her lip as she tried not to squirm.
Her cheeks would grow hot, and this time I slipped my hand gently into her dress with enough subtlety that no one else would see. I rolled her nipple between my fingers before kneading her breasts.
She’d become so adorably flustered, especially when she felt my hardness beneath her.
“You’re so perfect, Little Doll,” I whispered as Thistle let out a moan and wriggled against me.
When she was tense, fingers digging into my shirt as she desperately tried to hide her body’s reaction, I turned it off.
She released a frustrated huff, and I had to hold her up as I stood, my hand curled around her waist. I enjoyed the way she clung to me, blinking the daze from her eyes.
I was ready to be alone with her and reap the rewards of how utterly turned on she was.
I almost managed to depart without being accosted, but right by the door, I caught the unpleasant scent of stale faux leather.
Rodrick Banner was in his mid-thirties, a towering Alpha with short auburn hair, a tank-like build, and a nasty jagged scar down his neck and chest that had been there since the first time I’d seen him.
He stepped in my way, grey eyes fixed on the two of us. “Knox, brother ,” he drawled with a nod that might be civil, if that word he’d chosen wasn’t a threat in itself.
I took a breath, steeling myself to stay civil despite the urge I always felt when I was near him: to tear his jaw clean from his face.
I nodded expectantly, not wanting any conversation with him to go on longer than it needed. He was handsome-ish if you squinted hard, but I knew Bella had chosen him for far more than looks.
The Alpha before me was a sadist with the sickest of desires that made him her favourite. My hackles rose at the idea of my Omega being within feet of him.
Thistle, to her credit, had been following my rules perfectly, and she kept her eyes on the marble at our feet as Banner examined her.
I noticed his gaze linger on the faintest scratch of a bite I’d left on her neck, even if it clearly wasn’t enough of one to be a bonding bite.
“A pretty catch,” he said, eyes flicking to me for a response I had to beat back violently. It’s why he was here: to get a gauge on Thistle. There was no other reason this Alpha was here tonight other than because Bella had sent him.
“What do you want, Banner?” I asked.
His half-smile was stiff, and he reached out as if to examine Thistle closer.
I caught his wrist, my voice icy. “ Touch my Omega, and Bella can spend the night fishing your corpse from the pond.”
I didn’t miss the way Thistle had gone tense, downcast eyes sliding my way as if she wasn’t sure what to expect.
“ Your Omega.” He played with the words like he was trying them out on his tongue as he drew his hand back. I heard the faintest trace of his Eastern European accent I’d never been able to pin down. “Not just a pet? But then—no pet would cost such a fortune.”
I snorted. “Is that what it is? Everyone’s wondering if I’m going to have a bite?” I let a truly nasty grin take over my expression. “I wasn’t aware my bid would cause such panic over my intentions.”
His eyes were frigid and infuriatingly impassive. “You’ve never bid so high before.”
I took a breath, warding off nightmares long past.
The screams were endless, and I didn’t know where they came from anymore.
I’d been stripped from flesh to soul. I’d never known until it was ripped from me what it meant to be an Alpha.
To hear endless agony.
To wish for death upon the one you should be able to protect.
To be able to do nothing…
I cleared my throat, knowing the last thing I needed was to let this piece of trash get a rise from me. “I’ve never been presented with such a high-profile prize.”
“And…?” Banner asked. “Was it worth it? Has she spilled on Maverick’s fate?”
I raised my eyebrows as if the notion that I would tell him was the most ridiculous thing I’d heard. It’s what I’d done throughout the night every time that question was asked. “Tell Bella,” I said instead, “that I don’t belong to her, and if she continues to challenge that—” I tugged Thistle closer by the chain, my hand curling around her neck. “—I might just be pushed to make the evidence permanent.”
Banner’s expression was stiff, and I couldn’t tell if his irritation was on his Omega’s behalf or if he found my continued freedom an insult too.
Probably the latter, the loyalist fuck.
I stepped past him, guiding Thistle with me.
“Oh.” I glanced back, unable to help myself. “And while you’re at it, remind her that ‘ fortune’ is a matter of perspective.”