Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
POE
M y encrypted tablet buzzes with an incoming message. An anonymous message flashes on the screen alongside a simple text:
Meet me in the old queen’s quarters. Come alone.
I can only assume it’s from Ares, wanting to meet and discuss any updates to our private investigation about the fake heat suppressants we found at the farmhouse.
It’s a little strange that he would want to meet in the old queen’s apartment, but I suppose it’s as good a place as any if we want privacy in the palace.
Perfect timing. I’ve just received the lab results of those seemingly innocuous yellow pills.
They contain an element that the most advanced lab in the kingdom has literally never seen before.
A designer compound that perfectly mimics the hormone responsible for an Omega’s heat.
If we can identify the source of that, it would be the best lead possible.
This could be the connection we’ve been looking for between the palace attack and the mystery of Maya’s drug-induced heat.
There is a twinge of guilt about not bringing Logan and Cillian into the loop on this. But the prince is already overwhelmed with his new duties, and I have nothing stronger than assumptions and a handful of yellow pills.
When I have something worth acting on, they’ll be the first to know.
I slide the tablet into my jacket pocket and make my way through the palace’s service corridors.
Though the old queen’s apartments have been sealed since Queen Midale’s death, most of the guards still have access codes.
That makes it a perfect place to meet for a clandestine conversation because we have plausible deniability if someone discovers the room has been accessed, but none of the regular guards would risk the king’s wrath by being caught in here.
I key in the sequence and slip inside, sealing the door closed behind me.
The air is stale, heavy with the lingering scent of the queen’s clove perfume. I’ve always hated coming here. Too many memories buried beneath the dust-covered furniture.
“Ares?” I call out, keeping my voice low.
No answer, but I hear movement from the bedroom. Strange. Ares knows better than to go poking around in there. I draw my sidearm and approach cautiously, nudging the bedroom door open with my foot.
The sight that greets me stops me cold.
Countess Vivienne Marsden reclines on the bed, her silver-streaked hair cascading over bare shoulders. She wears nothing but a sheer crimson negligee that leaves little to the imagination.
“Hello, darling,” she purrs. “It’s been far too long.”
My stomach drops as memories flood back, being fourteen and trapped in this very room while she…
I turn sharply to leave, but the bedroom door slams shut. Duchess Elara steps out from behind it, blocking my exit.
“Not leaving so soon, are you, Poe?” Elara’s voice carries the same aristocratic chill I remember from the coalition meeting. “You’ve only just arrived.”
I keep my expression neutral despite the hammering in my chest. “This is a restricted area. You need to leave immediately.”
Vivienne laughs, the sound like broken glass. “That’s not very hospitable. Especially when we all went to such trouble to arrange this little reunion.”
The message was not from Ares.
My hand tightens on my weapon. “Step aside.”
“No need to pretend,” Elara says, moving closer. I automatically raise the gun higher, though not quite pointed at her. “We picked up on your little hints.”
Hints? What the fuck?
“Oh, put that thing away,” Vivienne says, rising from the bed. “We both know you won’t use it. Not on us.”
She’s right. Even now, after everything, my arm feels leaden, my finger frozen on the trigger guard.
“What do you want?” I manage to keep my voice steady.
“You, of course,” Vivenne purrs as she eases closer. “Just like we used to have you in the old days.”
Vivienne’s hands slide up my chest, and I feel myself collapsing inward. My mind fragments, scattering like shards of broken glass. I’m no longer a grown Alpha and a dangerous man—I’m fourteen again, trapped in this very room with these same hands exploring my body without permission.
“There’s no need to be shy,” Vivienne purrs, her fingers working at my collar. “You’ve been sending all the right signals lately.”
Signals? What signals?
My throat constricts. I need to say something—anything—but my voice has abandoned me. My gun is still in my hand, but it might as well be made of air for all the good it’s doing me.
“We noticed how you looked at us after the coalition meeting,” Elara says, circling behind me. Her hand traces across my shoulders. “The way you lingered. The way you didn’t push Vivienne away when she touched your arm.”
I didn’t push her away because I couldn’t make a scene in front of Maya. Because violence against high-ranking Omegas would have caused a diplomatic incident. Because I froze then just like I’m freezing now.
“You don’t have to pretend to be the big, strong alpha anymore, darling. I know how hard it is to admit what you need,” Vivienne whispers, as if she’s sharing a secret. “When we got your message asking to meet where no one would see, I knew what you were really asking for.”
Message? What fucking message?
My voice sounds like it’s coming from underwater. “This is a misunderstanding.”
Vivienne laughs softly. “Your body remembers us, darling. You were always so responsive.”
Her hand slides lower, and my muscles lock. I can smell her perfume—the same cloying scent she wore years ago. The room spins slightly.
“Stop,” I manage, but it comes out as barely a whisper.
“You don’t mean that,” Elara says, her breath hot against my ear. “Remember how good we made you feel? How special you were to us?”
An image of Maya flashes in my mind—her fierce determination, her refusal to be broken despite everything done to her. What would she think if she saw me now, paralyzed by memories?
“I need to leave,” I say, forcing strength into my voice. “Logan is expecting me.”
“Prince Logan doesn’t need to know everything his pack does,” Vivienne says, her fingers now working at my belt. “He certainly keeps his own secrets.”
My hand snaps up, catching her wrist. Not violently—I can’t risk that—but firmly enough to stop her progress.
“This isn’t happening,” I say, finding my voice at last. “Not again. Not ever.”
Elara’s hand tightens on my shoulder. “Don’t be difficult, Poe. We have influence with the king. We could make things very uncomfortable for you and your little pack.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask, keeping my voice steady despite the unease prickling up my spine.
Elara’s smile turns predatory. “This new Inquisitor has been quite thorough in his investigation. I was interviewed myself, you know.” Her fingers trace my jawline. “But perhaps there are things I forgot to mention the first time around.”
The implication hangs heavy in the air.
Vivienne leans closer, her perfume suffocating. “Poor Ander might have had more than one enemy in the palace. But it’s obvious who benefited most from his death, isn’t it? Prince Logan.”
I feel a spike of fear, sharp and cold, but maintain my outward calm. Years of training have taught me how to hide my reactions, even as my heart hammers against my ribs.
“You don’t know anything about Ander’s death,” I say flatly.
Vivienne’s laugh is musical and cruel. “Maybe we do, maybe we don’t.” Her fingers slide beneath my collar. “But it doesn’t really matter, does it? Just the suggestion, the whisper of suspicion...that’s enough to do damage.”
My mind races. They can’t possibly know what really happened, that Logan killed Ander. If these women start spreading rumors, the Inquisitor might look closer, find inconsistencies in Logan’s story.
“What do you want?” I ask, though I already know.
“Just a little taste,” Elara whispers, her lips brushing my ear. “Nothing you haven’t done before.”
Her hands move to my belt, unbuckling it with practiced ease. I’m torn between my loyalty to Logan and self-preservation. If I resist, they could spread rumors that would bring the Inquisitor’s attention directly to Logan. If I submit...
I close my eyes as Elara’s hand slides lower.
I think of Maya, who fights despite knowing she can’t win. Who refuses to surrender her sense of self even when everything has been stripped away.
I think of the boy I was, trapped in these very rooms, told that my body wasn’t my own. The boy who grew into a man who kills without hesitation but freezes at a woman’s unwanted touch.
Will there ever be a time in my life when I get to be someone different from who I’ve been in the past? When I’m not defined by what others have taken from me or what I’ve been forced to give?
I think I already know the answer.
I turn the water as hot as it will go, watching steam fill the bathroom. My skin burns, but I welcome the pain. Anything to distract from the lingering sensation of unwanted hands.
I scrub harder, watching my skin turn angry red. The rough sponge rasps against my flesh, but no matter how much I scour myself, I can still smell them. Vivienne’s cloying perfume. Elara’s chalky scent. Both mixed with the bitter tang of my own fear.
The memory makes me scrub harder, my movements growing frantic. I should have fought harder. Should have pushed them away. Should have done something—anything—other than freeze like the scared little boy I once was.
I slam my palm against the shower wall, the sharp sting momentarily grounding me.
Maya’s face flashes in my mind—the look of confusion when I rushed past her after returning to the apartment. I couldn’t meet her eyes. Couldn’t bear to see the questions forming there. What would she think if she knew? An Alpha who couldn’t defend himself against two aging Omegas?
She’d never believe me. No one would.
My heart knocks harder in my chest. The water can’t wash away the truth: if Maya discovers what happened, whatever fragile thing growing between us will shatter. She’ll never look at me the same way again. The disgust in her eyes would be unbearable.
I’ve finally convinced her to give me a chance. To see me as something other than Logan’s attack dog. The thought of going back to how things were before she arrived—the emptiness, the loneliness—makes my chest constrict painfully.
My heart beats louder in my ears as panic rises. I can’t lose her. Not when I’ve just started to feel something real for the first time in years.
The pounding grows more insistent, and I realize it’s not my heart at all.
“Poe?” Maya’s voice carries through the door, accompanied by another knock. “Are you okay in there?”
I freeze, water cascading down my face. How long have I been in here?
“Fine,” I call back, my voice rougher than intended. “Just finishing up.”
“You’ve been in there for almost an hour,” she says, sounding concerned. “The others are wondering where you are.”
An hour? Shit.
“I’ll be right out,” I manage, reaching for the faucet with trembling hands.
“Poe,” her voice softens. “Did something happen? You seemed...different when you came back.”
My throat tightens. I turn off the water, standing naked and dripping in the sudden silence. What do I tell her? That I let myself be cornered? That I’m not the strong Alpha everyone thinks I am?
“Nothing happened,” I lie, reaching for a towel. “Just needed to clear my head.”
There’s a pause, and for a moment I think she left.
Then, she says with all the authority of someone who sees too much. “I don’t believe you.”
The simple statement hits harder than any accusation could. I wrap the towel around my waist and move to the door, hesitating with my hand on the knob. Opening it means facing her. Facing questions I don’t want to answer.
But hiding in here forever isn’t an option.
I take a deep breath and pull the door open. Maya stands there, purple hair tumbling over her shoulders, eyes widening slightly as they take in my bare chest. But her expression quickly shifts to concern as she studies my face.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she whispers.
“Maybe I have.” The words slip out before I can stop them.
Her gaze sharpens. “What happened after you left the training field? Where did you go?”
I move past her into my bedroom, needing space, needing to breathe. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It clearly does.” She follows, closing the door behind her. “You’re not acting like yourself.”
A bitter laugh escapes me. “And who is that, exactly? The ruthless enforcer? Logan’s loyal dog?”
“No,” she says simply. “You’re the man who carries me to bed but doesn’t take advantage. The one who taught me to defend myself. The one who looks at me and actually sees me.”
Her words slice through my defenses. I turn away, unable to face the sincerity in her eyes.
“Maya, please,” I whisper. “Just let it go.”
“I can’t.” She steps closer. “Not when you’re obviously hurting.”
The gentleness in her voice nearly breaks me. How can I tell her? How can I admit my weakness?
“If I tell you,” I say hoarsely, “you’ll never look at me the same way again.”
“Try me,” she challenges.
Fuck it.
I tell her. Everything.
I stare at Maya’s face, waiting for disgust or pity to appear. Neither comes. Instead, her eyes soften with something that looks strangely like understanding.
“You know,” she says quietly, “I spent my whole life believing that Alphas were these untouchable gods. That they could never be victims.” She sits on the edge of the bed, careful to maintain space between us. “But you were victimized just like any Omega might be.”
“It’s not the same,” I mutter, shame burning through me. “I should have been stronger.”
“Why? Because you’re an Alpha?” Maya’s voice turns sharp. “That’s the same bullshit that keeps Omegas trapped. The idea that your designation determines how much power you have, how much agency you deserve.”
Her words hit their target dead center. I’ve never considered the parallel before.
“Those women,” she continues, “they used their status to hurt you, just like Alphas use theirs to control Omegas. The system protects them both.”
I consider that, pain and hate swirling in a mind just sick of there always being darkness. “So we’re both pawns in the same game,” I say slowly. “Just playing different positions.”
Maya nods. “The difference is, you can walk away from the board. I can’t.”
The truth of her words settles heavily between us. For the first time, I truly see the cage around her—not just the physical one of the palace, but the invisible one built by society itself.
“What now?” I ask.
“Now,” she says, reaching tentatively for my hand, “we decide if we’re going to keep playing by their rules or start making our own.”