Chapter 37
THIRTY-SEVEN
ROGUE
Old, buried instincts surfaced, and a claim felt like the most natural thing in the world.
The birthright of an Alpha born atop an empire. One I’d never truly escaped.
Thistle’s chest heaved, eyes wide. “Please, Alpha,” she whispered.
I was breaking.
I growled, letting go of her, shaking my head to get it straight. I got to my feet, but she followed.
The softest brush of frosted moonflower tried desperately to loosen the last screw keeping my sanity together.
“Bite me,” she begged.
I growled.
I had to.
Needed to.
Couldn’t…
He would kill her, or me.
Another exhale echoed with a growl.
I couldn’t damn her like I’d damned myself.
Three and a half years before—The day of the switch.
I took the spiral staircase in my family’s mansion.
The huge estate that had been left for me by blood. I wished I could wipe it away like I was wiping Knox’s blood from my knuckles right now.
I’d left him chained down in that cell, bleeding and bruised.
I was angry. More angry than I should be, but for a short time after he’d fled, I truly wasn’t sure I’d get him back.
There was no good reason it mattered—he shouldn’t matter—yet the idea that he was gone…
My heart raced and there was still a furious tremor in my hand as I washed the blood from it with a rag and stepped from up the spiral stairs.
I was a fucking mess.
Alone. Packless. Afraid of real connection, I’d fled my family legacy, vowing I wouldn’t become them.
Except I had.
Once.
I’d become the monster I was raised to be, with instincts that ruled my life, treading on others like they were nothing.
He was it. A prize. The last tie I hadn’t been able to cut. Claim Knox, walk away, and no one would look any closer when I wasn’t involved with my family legacy anymore.
I hadn’t intended to keep him forever.
Not until I realised the instincts I’d been raised with had sharper edges than I’d ever imagined.
So I’d kept it to him—the only claim I was allowed, and in that, it was uncontained.
Discovering that he’d escaped almost drove me mad. And what was it he’d just threatened?
I couldn’t drag him back from hell?
Threatening to kill himself?
A low growl rose up my throat before I caught it, and I tossed the bloody rag at a dusty painting on the wall as I passed.
I needed a fucking drink.
The mansion was slowly falling into disrepair. I refused to hire anyone to maintain it, so it was just Knox and me.
I hated people.
I just wanted to be left alone.
Which was why I drew up in shock as I entered the ballroom, a distantly familiar scent of roses and redwood like a light mist in the air.
Faint, and unmistakable.
I looked around, but it didn’t take me long to find him.
Ace Maverick was seated in one of the armchairs by the fireplace in the corner, one leg crossed over the other, a lazy slouch in his posture as he tapped on his phone.
It might have been the image of casual comfort had he not been a crime lord waiting in a home that wasn’t his.
A crime lord I had rejected just last year.
He didn’t look up as I remained frozen on the spot. I glanced to the upper level of the Ballroom and was unsurprised to spot a shadow or two out of place beside the broad pillars.
Backup, in case he didn’t want to get his hands dirty.
And that was the moment the truth finally sank in.
Today was the day I died.
I sighed.
As I crossed the room toward him, I unrolled my sleeves from where they were bunched, taking my time as I stepped up to the bar.
I buttoned them back up, straightening them neatly before pulling out two glasses and pouring the scotch. Next, I opened the little freezer to my left and used the tongs to pluck a sphere of ice from the bucket—one for each glass.
Finally, I set one down at the table beside Ace and sank into my favourite armchair.
It took a while before Ace finally lowered his phone and looked up at me.
“The lone wolf, in the flesh.”
His eyes lingered on my hands, inspecting them curiously, and I realised there were still a few stains of blood on them.
His eyes flicked back up to me, though. “A lone wolf who’s just a little too entangled in the Nevada trafficking ring.”
“The Brotherhood aren’t ? —”
“Weren’t.” He lifted a finger, a flash of delight in his eyes. “Weren’t interested in the ring. Colt Bishop has just made the offer of an alliance.”
I cocked my head, running my tongue along my teeth, the weight of my situation finally sinking in.
I knew Ace Maverick by face because he’d made me an ‘offer of alliance’ before. From Ace, that had meant packing up.
My family name held weight, and he’d wanted a Maverick-Manzo alliance.
But, wanting some peace and fucking quiet, I’d declined.
Politely.
Or as politely as you could decline a man like Ace.
He was the ruthless leader of the Brotherhood, a Las Vegas gang known for its violent brutality, and the Bishops were traffickers, just like my family were.
They were my rivals by blood.
“Something you overlooked, when you declined my offer,” Ace said coolly, “Was that when I invite an Alpha into my family, I’m generous. I ensure the members of my pack have the offerings they deserve. Colt got the gift you would have been offered.”
“Ah.”
The final puzzle piece fell into place. I could guess what he’d asked for by the delighted glint in Ace’s eye as he watched me come to the inevitable conclusion.
“And I have no interest in Colt Bishop’s claim to any trafficking operations.”
I was the last of my family in this state. I had claimed Knox as a sign of good will—collateral, so to speak—and never looked back. I had more money than I would ever know what to do with, and no interest in thrill seeking.
“Colt doesn’t see it that way.”
“I imagine he doesn’t.”
“I respected you, Rogue,” Ace said. “There aren’t many people I can say that for. I tried not to take your rejection personally,” he said. “Until I discovered you weren’t a lone wolf at all.”
“I don’t have a pack. Never will.” If I was going to die today, that was the record I would die with.
It was the only thing I’d ever truly dedicated an effort to.
Escaping the world.
Being alone.
“No. You have a pet.” Ace tilted his head, watching me carefully as he adjusted the placket of his suit. “Was I not good enough?”
I felt the bitter smile tug at the corner of my lips.
“I wasn’t aware the Mavericks were in the business of getting themselves leashed.”
I didn’t let my racing pulse get the better of me as I took my first sip. I paid attention to the way the scotch burned on its way down. I’d chosen the cheapest in the cabinet because smooth would be forgettable. If it was my last, I wanted to die with the echo of that burn in my throat.
“If we’re being honest, Colt Bishop has no class,” Ace said, picking up his own glass and inspecting it, fixing me with that piercing, ice-blue gaze.
I barked a laugh, but didn’t reply, taking another sip, grateful that my hand wasn’t shaking anymore.
How long? I wondered. Would the drink buy me another minute?
Did I want another minute?
Not particularly, but I’d started it now, and it felt right to finish the damn thing.
My eyes fell momentarily to the old Monopoly game that was still open on the long coffee table between us.
An ancient game, unfinished by my own mother, untouched for years, but never tidied up. I thought it added character and reminded me of how little movement I preferred in my life.
Right now, it looked ugly, and I wished it was gone.
“But Colt wasn’t stupid enough to decline my offer.”
“I’m sure he’ll make a perfect puppet.”
That’s all Ace Maverick wanted, in the end. We would never have worked out. I wanted to be left alone, and these nut-jobs were forever bored—like my mother and father—who had never been able to stop chasing adrenaline.
All I wanted was a quiet fucking life.
And Knox… Strangely perfect in a way I’d never find again. He was a work of art, and I had never really known why.
It wasn’t romance or attraction; my instincts had just demanded him the moment I’d seen him in that forest clearing.
Ace’s gaze was fixed on my glass, his own still frozen in his fist, but then he relaxed, as if spotting the first hint of my nerves were enough to calm him.
“We would have made good pack mates.”
He was wrong.
He’d have had me killed within the year. But now I knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that my first instinct had been correct. The offer from Ace was not an offer at all. It was a leash, or it was a noose, and nothing in between. There had never been a choice: just the illusion of it. Simple fucking pride had got in my way. Anger at being tied to the legacy my family name carried—one I’d fled from since the blessed day my parents had been wiped from the face of the earth.
But my family name would be my end today.
I forced myself to roll my eyes. “I’m sure you know I haven’t funded anything in at least a year. Colt’s a paranoid piece of shit.”
I’d taken over my father’s accounts years back and had been untangling all the filthy places he was sending money for a while now. There were still more accounts I’d been given in his will.
Ace leaned back in his seat, flashing me a grin as he spread his hands with a shrug.
Right.
This was a gift, not strategy.
I suspected that the only reason I remained alive was so Ace could bask in the satisfaction of watching me process my own fate.
I was afforded a last drink, courtesy of smugness.
He hadn’t taken a sip of his, I noticed, though he had swirled the glass beneath his nose.
“It seems you match,” I murmured. Paranoid fucks, the lot of them. Though he knew I knew what was heading for me, and I suppose a murder suicide wouldn’t be out of the question.
Poslon, though?
Tasteless.
He raised his eyebrow finally taking a sip. “How about a choice before you leave?”
Leave?
I snorted. What a polite way to put it.
I’d seen shadows shift from above a few times.
My reapers. His men with their guns pointed my way.
“Why not?” I asked, my voice dry.
Ace lifted a hand and made a vague beckoning motion. A few long seconds passed, and then I heard scuffling.
I turned to see two men stepping through the open double doors to the ballroom, and they were dragging a half-conscious Knox with them.
Again, I felt that flare of fury.
Possessive, angry bitterness rose like bile in my throat.
They dumped him at Ace’s feet, and he buckled. He was bleeding and broken, barely able to hold himself up on his knees.
“Choice,” Ace said. “Do you want him to live?”
Knox’s caramel eyes fixed on me with a dead look beneath the tangled strands of blond. Blood still dripping down his neck from my beating.
My wounds.
My punishment.
He belonged to me.
Even now, facing death, I could only hear the threat he’d just levelled my way.
I couldn’t drag him back from hell?
I might have distanced myself from my family and its interests as much as I could, but I wasn’t good. I’d still become them, even if just with him.
Claiming another as mine.
And he had just told me he was going to leave me.
Fine, Knox, so fucking be it.
I looked back at Ace, downing the last of my drink.
“He’s mine,” I said quietly. “If I take my last breath, he takes his.”
Ace Maverick, it turned out, had a sense of humour like no other. He’d barked a laugh at my choice, looking at me as if surprised. “You know what?” he’d asked, voice dropping low and cruel. “I think I have a better game in mind.”
And so I’d woken, next, with a muzzle, a wound, and the bump of something solid beneath the skin of my neck.
I’d found a note beside my pillow. “He could detonate that if you even look at him wrong, tread lightly.”
I was wiped from every database in existence. I wasn’t just gone, the Rogue Manzo I had been, never existed. My face and name were now tied to a dangerous and sick Alpha to whom Knox had complete, and irrevocable ownership of.
He’d been given the keys to every account: every dime, every ounce of power I’d ever had, as well as the destruct button of the device now tied to my fate.
Once, sooner after it had happened, I’d put a gun to his head and tried to force him to undo it, but he’d laughed until tears had slid down his cheeks, and I regretted how broken he was, then.