Chapter 12
BIANCA
The guards’ fingers are clamped down on my arms as we make our way down the hall to the elevator where he waits for me.
Alexander Barrett.
The suit is expensive. His eyes are the color of ice, his hair pale and perfectly styled, and his jawline is sharp. Tristan’s eyes always flicker with life—whether laughter or pain or both—but his father’s are empty.
If evil has a face, it’s wearing a tailored suit and a fancy watch.
He gives me the fucking creeps.
“Ms. Quinn.” His voice is flawless, the kind of smooth tone rich men use when they want to pretend they’re civilized. “The omega who killed my VP and my daughter-in-law.”
The guards stop short.
“Among others,” I can’t resist adding.
His expression is blank, but I see a flicker of calculation in his eyes. “Rebecca Wells was instrumental to me. Such a talented young woman. Very... accommodating.” He steps close, invading my space, and I have to fight the urge to jerk back.
“She raped your son while Whitney filmed it.” I don’t break eye contact.
He checks his watch. Guess he has an appointment after ruining my life. “My son is an alpha. When a beautiful woman like Rebecca shows interest... well, that’s hardly torture, is it?”
The indifference in his voice makes my hands twitch.
“And Whitney,” he goes on, “the mother my grandchildren were supposed to have.”
“Did you fuck her, too?” I roll my eyes.
He freezes for a single heartbeat, and then he bares his teeth in something that isn’t a smile.
“Careful, Ms. Quinn.”
The elevator dings open. They shove me in first. Alexander follows, and the small space becomes suffocating, his scent pressing in on me. The elevator climbs, floor after floor, and he just stands there, staring. Dissecting me.
“You’re pretty,” he says abruptly. “They will appreciate that.”
He must be talking about my hunters.
I give him nothing.
He sees that. “Three brothers, no omega for two years. They’ll pass you around. One after another, until you can’t remember which one’s inside you.” He clicks his tongue in mock regret. “You’ll enjoy it, I promise.”
My throat tightens until it hurts, but I don’t let it show.
The elevator slides to a stop. He waits until the last second, then lays a hand on my shoulder. The touch is light, almost polite, but the power in it pins me.
He bends close, his lips brushing my ear. I hate that it makes me shiver. “That’s what omegas are best for. Pathetic, really, but a good time.” He drops the words into my ear. “You’ll be crying, pleading, promising anything just to have them fill you up.”
“You’re disgusting.”
Alexander laughs, a cold, dead sound. “You think you’re different because you killed a few women? Because you lasted in the woods?” He looks me up and down with open contempt. “They wanted someone spirited. A challenge. In the end, the outcome is a guarantee.”
“Go to hell.” My voice is raw.
“No, omega, that’s where you’re going. My son is an investment.
They all are. And you’ve disrupted years of careful planning.
” He crowds me again. “But don’t worry about them.
When the pack is done with you, when you’re exposed for what you are and the boys can’t look at you the same way, we’ll have a proper replacement ready. ”
“Replacement?”
“We’re already interviewing beautiful omegas from families like ours. Good breeding. Manners. Untouched.” He spits out the last word like it’s a virtue.
He’s trying to rattle you.
“The best part is that your time on the preserve will be recorded. We’ll be able to show the boys exactly what you are when they’re not around.”
The thought of that makes my skin crawl. Them watching me, seeing—
“When they see you moaning for another alpha’s knot, begging for it, taking it so eagerly…
” Alexander shakes his head, almost sad.
“I can’t deny they care for you, Ms. Quinn, but alphas aren’t very forgiving.
By the time your observation period is complete, I expect you’ll be.
.. well-used. But I’m sure you’ll be fine.
” He says it like it amuses him. “You’re a fighter, after all. ”
Something snaps. My hand moves before I can think. I slap him. The crack of it is loud in the elevator’s hush.
For a perfect second, shock splinters his face. Red blooms across his cheek.
Then the collar hits.
My teeth slam together. Every muscle locks, a single, screaming knot of fire. The world shrinks to the electricity burning through me, all thought gone.
When it ends, I’m a heap on the floor, gasping, spit pooling on the cold metal. My fingers twitch uncontrollably.
“Feral little bitch.” Alexander rubs his cheek, and now he’s really smiling. “No control. No discipline.”
The guards yank me up. My legs barely work.
“You’ll learn who’s in charge,” he promises as the elevator doors open and sunlight floods the space.
The helicopter is on the pad, rotors thrumming. Three older men stand beside it, waving at Alexander like old friends at a golf club. The guards half-carry me toward them, my feet dragging, muscles still trembling with aftershocks.
“Enjoy your trip,” Alexander calls out, his voice smug over the roar. I don’t give him the satisfaction of looking back.
They throw me into a seat and strap my wrists together. The gown hikes up my thighs, but I can’t fix it.
The three alphas climb in. Tristan’s father stays outside, watching through the glass, that thin-lipped smile never fading.
He thinks this is the end of me.
As the helicopter lifts, his words brew. The picture he painted is a nightmare. What if he’s right?
No. I can’t go there.
I shut my eyes and count my breaths.
I’ve survived so much. I can survive this.
Right?
“You should sleep,” one of them says without glancing at me. “You’ll need your energy.”
I think about telling him to fuck off but just close my eyes instead. I don’t sleep. I don’t trust any of these men enough for that.
Alexander Barrett is wrong. I will not break. I will never beg.
I keep telling myself that because the alternative is unthinkable.
The helicopter ride is both too long and not nearly long enough. I learn their last name is Haversham. They have three sons, and their fathers are friends with my alphas’ fathers. They talk about an overseas hunting trip, golf scores, and stock portfolios.
I learn their sons’ names are Nathaniel, Carter, and Maverick.
By the time the preserve appears, the sun is setting, smearing the sky with gold and red. The land sprawls below—thick trees, shifting elevations, a river cutting through it all.
The reality of what’s coming hits me.
The lodge on the property is a monster of wood and glass. The helicopter pad glows below. A target.
The men drop me with a guard, and the helicopter vanishes.
The lodge interior is a taxidermy museum. Bears, teeth bared mid-roar. Elk antlers arch overhead, casting shadows. A mountain lion is caught mid-leap.
A guard marches me upstairs to an enormous room. A four-poster bed, windows filled with endless forest. On the bed, an outfit: black pants, a fitted tank, a jacket, boots. Just like my refuge gear, only nicer brands.
In the shower, the hot water stings my cuts and bruises. The mirror throws the truth back at me… I look like I’ve already lost.
The outfit fits perfectly. Montgomery must have 3D-scanned me in my sleep.
I leave my hair braided.
The lodge manager who knocks softly at my door and collects me for dinner is silent, leading me through a new hallway lined with oil paintings of victorious men and their kills. We go down a staircase wide enough for a car to fit and step into a dining room that screams money and masculinity.
Two men sit at the far end of a long table, watching me approach. A third is leaned back in his chair, a smug look on his face. My eyes follow his gaze down.
A woman in a staff uniform is on her knees between his legs. Her dark hair hides her face, but not what she’s doing. The wet, obscene sounds fill the room as her head bobs between his thighs. His fingers are tangled in her hair, controlling her pace.
He notices me. Instead of stopping, his lips curl up and his eyes lock with mine as he pushes her head down harder.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, loud enough for me to hear. “Take it deeper.”
The woman chokes but obeys. I force myself not to look away. I will not show weakness.
“Carter,” one of the men at the table says with mild annoyance, “we have company.”
Carter laughs. “She can wait. I’m almost finished.” His breathing gets heavier as he watches my reaction.
It’s a power play. Obvious and pathetic. When he’s done, he lazily pushes the woman’s head away, and she scurries from the room.
I take a seat as far from them as possible.
“Bianca.” The one in the middle speaks. Handsome, early thirties, dark eyes. He’s the leader. “I’m Nathaniel. These are my brothers.”
He’s probably the oldest then.
“Carter.” The one from before licks his lips. Movie-star looks. He’s probably never heard the word no.
“Mav.” The one on the right doesn’t smile. He’s bigger than the others, shoulders straining his shirt, eyes cold.
It’s weird, but I can’t smell them. No alpha scent at all. This room must have some kind of industrial scent scrubber.
“You’re attractive,” I say, the words sharp. “You obviously have money. Can’t you get a woman on your own without your daddies paying for one? Your personalities must be complete shit.”
They scoff.
“We were looking for someone specific,” Carter snaps.
I laugh, my voice mocking. “Someone who doesn’t want you?” It’s too easy to jab at the wound, too tempting. I want to hurt someone for this. For the years stolen from me. For being forced into my first heat in the woods with assholes who think I’m a trophy.
Nathaniel doesn’t blink. He lifts his glass, the edge of his mouth tipping into an easy smile. “You don’t want us… yet.” He takes a sip of wine, then cuts into his steak.
I lean forward. “I’ll never want you.”
He just continues to smile. “You’ll see.”