ELIANO #3
He gestures toward the head of the beta guards.
"Harvey, take Drax. We’re leaving. We will not discuss matters in an emotionally charged atmosphere.
Tomorrow we will convene a special assembly where everything will be explained.
For now, please continue your meal in peace.
All other activities will proceed today as scheduled. "
Harvey Bram and his men struggle to lift half-conscious Drax, his body dead weight in their arms. Purples are extra heavy because of their thick bones, and for betas it has to feel like hauling a slab of stone; Harvey’s jaw clenches, veins rising sharply at his temples as they stagger toward the exit.
The noise in the room doesn’t die down, though.
People move toward Fred and Bashir. I hear questions being asked.
I spot Spencer and Ansel among them, unsurprisingly, given their island seniority.
Both step up, questioning him, while most alphas approach Bashir.
More of the older and mid-tenure pairs gather around them as well.
I smile to myself. Knowledge is power. Everyone understands that. Now that they know, they can prepare and make decisions together.
Satisfied with how things turned out, I walk over to Salt, who is still sitting at the table, carefully hiding the phone in his hand. Honestly, I doubt anyone noticed he was recording. He was pretty sneaky doing it.
"Wow," Salt mutters excitedly. "That really escalated fast!"
"Yeah, it had to be done."
Salt’s eyes search mine. "You were amazing there. A true rebellion leader."
I wince. "Hey, don’t give me too much credit. I didn’t do anything, really. Bashir helped, and Fred!"
"No! Don’t downplay it—"
Suddenly something catches my eye, something I had not noticed before. Drax had been holding a stack of papers clenched in his fist, and they slipped from his hand when he fell.
I pick them up and flip through them, then show them to Salt.
"Look. These are… consent forms signed by betas for consensual ‘stimulation sex’ meant to trigger a hormonal response. The signatures… Fenn Drax, the betas’ names, and… Sidorov’s name!"
Salt curses under his breath.
"Fuck. What if Drax thought this was all agreed on?" He looks up at me. "What if the intimidation happened without him being present? He was only given unit numbers and a green light to fuck?"
I rub my chin. "Who knows. Still, that does not change the fact that he was part of something illegal, and even if he didn’t know for sure, his failure to probe further could be seen as negligence."
"Wow, sounds like you know about stuff like this."
I wince. "I have done two and a half years of a law degree, but that’s beside the point. Drax is not even important here. It’s Sidorov who’s the real bad guy. He was blackmailing them, setting things in motion."
Salt nods and puts the papers down on the table where people leave their trays.
"Right. This whole thing is shady as hell."
"Let’s get out of here. These people probably think all the drama always starts with us," I murmur, because I catch Roman’s uneasy gaze.
He is huddled next to Evan, almost pressed into his side like a scared chicken; the two of them look thoroughly panicked and… disillusioned. Their naive idea of what this island was like has clearly shattered, and they have no idea how to deal with it.
We step out of the building into the scorching sun. We walk in silence for a bit while I review the recording Salt made on the phone. It looks solid. They won’t be able to wriggle out of this.
"I’m not going to let this slide. Sidorov has already downplayed it, and the BA oversight board’s statement was vague as hell.
Before long, the warden could go back to his old ways.
I’m sending it to Storm, Jordan Arnold, and Mr. Gessler.
I’ll skip posting it publicly, since they probably have other ways to exert pressure as their business partners. "
"Good call. Online it’s easy to scream AI manipulation. This is raw footage. They can examine it."
We enter our module building, but the moment the door shuts behind us, I hear a strange sound.
The panel where we usually scan our cards lights up red, the diodes pulsing softly.
"Fuck, what is that?" Salt says, spinning around.
We both rush to the panel.
I try my card first, then Salt tries his.
Both cards produce a dull, empty sound.
For a few numb seconds, we both stare at the display pulsing with red light, almost hypnotized by it.
"Wow," Salt whispers. "They locked us out?"
Then he turns toward me and lets out an uneasy laugh.
"Damn, what a ride. They’re not playing nice anymore."
"Apparently," I reply calmly, which clearly surprises him. "It’s official, I guess. I’m now the main troublemaker."
His eyes shift over my face. "Eliano… what does this mean for us?"
There’s a subtle, fearful tone to his words. This is the first time I’ve heard him sound like that. But it only plays on my alpha protective senses, firing them up.
"It means that I need to make a phone call," I say firmly, feeling my jaw muscles twitch. "Now."
Salt suddenly places a hand on my forearm.
"Wait. There’s something I need to repeat…" He trails off, and I see a hint of color creep into his cheek.
I raise an eyebrow.
"Back in the hall… you handled that really well. You’re not even twenty-one yet, and you’re the strongest alpha here, with quite a fierce character and the nature of a true protector, not only mine but also others’.
I don’t want you to downplay it, like you did in the dining room; no humbleness needed, these are facts. "
I stay silent. What am I supposed to say?
Objectively, the situations here are brutal, but I have spent hours locked in a cage by Anzo, had my face smashed in fights, and been shocked and whipped on top of that.
My threshold for the unbearable is, by necessity, lower than most people on this island.
But this isn’t something I can be proud of.
It was forced into me, a self-preserving instinct that kept me alive, gave me purpose, and drove me to keep fighting when grief and helplessness should have broken me.
I had to learn to pull myself together, picking myself up after stress and pain, while other kids went to parties, dates, and lived a well-deserved teenage life.
Can I really feel satisfied that life hardened me? It was never my choice.
And then he says it.
"You know… this might sound insulting, but people say the mafia gets things done and doesn’t play around. You’ve got that tough Italian mobster vibe in you, whether you want it or not."
His words hit me hard, and I turn my head aside. Mobster? I don’t take it as a compliment.
It feels more like a stigma, a burden, a curse, even though I wish I were relaxed enough to hear it that way. I simply can’t make my life’s tragedy into a badge to wear.
Salt steps even closer to me. His slim hand lightly brushes the raised veins on my forearm, his finger tracing one that is probably the thickest.
"You are so… unmistakably alpha, you know?" he says in a strange tone, almost breathless, like he can’t quite believe his own words or the way they come out, erotic and… submissive. "It just can’t be denied."
Then he lifts his eyes to me, and there is something… beta in them. As if his deeper nature relaxed in my presence.
A low rumble slips from my throat.
On an impulse I don’t understand, I place my hand on the back of Salt’s neck, pressing on his glands.
His reaction is instant. A low sound of submission spills from his throat, and his hips begin to push back.
It’s an ancient gesture alphas once routinely used to sexually dominate omegas, now considered unacceptable and backward.
I turn him with my left hand, never removing the right from his neck.
My fingers settle firmly against his neck glands, applying a pressure that intensifies the submissive response.
The thing is, I never thought this could work on betas too!
I wasn’t even planning on having sex now, it was just my animalistic reflex, so this is an unexpected result.
I’m about to step back and let him go, but suddenly Salt lets out another sound, and this time it’s pure, beautiful AO language, meaning an ‘Invitation’.
A clear welcome to intercourse.
Wow. So he’s on board!
How odd. And the sound is so perfect! Before, I firmly believed that betas weren’t able to make 90% of AO sounds.
This one is especially high in the vocal range.
But Salt proves me wrong. Over the last two days, he’s produced a few different sounds, and they have become ever more smooth and correct with each day.
Sooo, I’m not about to refuse. Obviously!
I nudge him forward. He bends, bracing his hands on the bed, pushing his ass back toward me.
I undo his pants with one hand. I feel him reach back, a condom already in his palm.
I shove his pants down, they stop at his thighs.
A single tap of my foot against his ankle makes him spread his legs wider.
I part his cheeks with my fingers, taking in the sight of his pink entrance.
"Such a good, submissive beta you are. Wet, heat-y, begging for my dick…"
"Asshole," Salt mutters, sulky but amused. "Just put it in."
"Ass hole for sure, nice and open for me."
The next moment I press the head of my cock against his blossoming opening.
One hard thrust, and Salt lets out a loud gasp.
"You like taking it, don’t you…" I murmur, pausing just long enough to savor the view of his slim back, narrow waist, and the perfect curve of his ass, along with that stretched, pink ring. "And you do it perfectly, baby…" I add, because that’s exactly how it feels.
"Pound me hard," Salt blurts out, his voice breaking. I feel his channel ripple and clench around me, and it pulls me under too. With one hand still on his neck and the other gripping his waist, I start fucking him.
And damn, it feels incredible.
Bam, bam, bam!