Prologue II
The muted thudding sound of footsteps stirred Roman Kane from his thoughts, his head jerking upright toward the wall of iron bars that separated him from any hope of freedom.
A wry smile touched the corner of his mouth as he pressed the back of his head against the stone wall behind him, sucking in a deep breath of air as he prepared for the inevitable.
Why the proceedings had taken so long was beyond him; he knew very little about the legal system and assumed most of what he’d read in books or seen on television was little more than fictional entertainment for the masses.
He had no legal counsel to vouch for him and asked for none when pressed, accepting that there was nothing he could do to fight the death sentence dangling over his head like a sword.
No alpha killed two upstanding members of society and walked free.
So be it. He couldn’t bring himself to regret the decision as he waited for the executioner, wondering what death would feel like.
There had been so many descriptions of it in all the horror books he’d spent his teen years consuming instead of spending any time with people his age, though most of them were tinged with dread.
He couldn’t bring himself to feel anything but sweet relief.
If he couldn’t stand at Sidian’s side, he had no reason to draw another breath.
You failed him. The words echoed through his mind, bouncing off the walls of his skull as he watched a shadow appear on the concrete floor. You failed him. The least you can do is die for it.
A voice spoke up, uncertain and nervous. “Are you sure about this, Sir? Not that I doubt you know what’s best, but just the same—”
“You have the money. I do not see why I owe you any further explanation.”
The quality of the voice that spoke was unusual enough that Roman’s spine snapped straight, eyes narrowing as a growl rumbled in his chest. Whether it was wise to make such a noise did not matter to him; there was nothing more they could do to him.
They took Sidian away from him when he did everything in his power to ensure his mate would be taken care of, so why did it matter how he acted now?
What more could they do? There was nothing else left to take.
Nothing but his life. Without his omega, that held no value for him.
The person who stepped into his line of sight was not what Roman envisioned when he thought of what his executioner might look like.
He’d imagined a bespoke suit, or perhaps a white coat, something basic and inconspicuous.
A middle-aged man who had things to do and places to be and for whom administering a lethal injection was just another part of the messy job.
But the man who pivoted to face Roman when he reached the center of the barred wall would have stood out no matter what crowd surrounded him. “Roman Kane?”
Before Roman could decide whether to answer, every muscle in his body drew taut, and a snarl ripped its way out of his chest like a living creature desperate to escape.
The man studied him for a moment before a strange chuckling noise escaped him, his head tilting from side to side like he was considering an animal at the zoo he might like to gain for his own personal collection. “Let me in to see him. He’s harmless.”
Harmless? “Who the fuck are you?”
The man didn’t answer. Instead, he waited while a guard that Roman recognized but had never learned the name of fumbled with the lock before the door swung inward, permitting the man the entrance he requested.
His black boots thudded with every footstep, the leather gleaming as if he regularly polished them before making stops at small-town jails.
His entire outfit was black-on-black, a button-down tucked into nice pants with a matching vest on top and a knotted tie.
It stood in sharp contrast to the gas mask affixed to the lower half of his face, which distorted every sound and word, and which only seemed to highlight the blood red of his eyes.
A feral, dressed nicer than Roman had ever seen before, but a feral.
Something’s wrong with him. It wasn’t just the eyes, though they weren’t nothing on their own. Some other quality about the man had Roman’s hackles up on sight, his teeth bared and his hands clenched as he debated which bone he would snap first.
“I wouldn’t,” the man said, tapping the side of the mask. “If you give me one reason, I will take this off, and in one breath, you’ll be dead. I can’t tell you how painful it will be because based on last time, I doubt I’ll remember much of it.”
“You’re a—” Roman started, but the man raised one hand, encased in black leather.
“I know what I am.” The amused lilt to his voice provoked another growl, though he seemed far too nonchalant about it for comfort.
Even with the security of what he could become should he need to, no one should have been at ease in the presence of someone still stained in days-old blood.
“And I know what you did. Very impressive for such a young alpha. How old are you, Roman?”
“Nineteen.” Still a child in the eyes of many, but a killer in the eyes of all.
In the end, that would matter more. Roman’s age would be used against him, proof that hormonal young alphas going through puberty should be sequestered away from omegas who might tempt them into bloodshed and violence.
Easier to blame him, easier to blame Sidian, than to confront the world that propped up everything that led to that one gruesome moment.
Because change would mean admitting their biases and stereotypes were wrong.
“Nineteen. How nostalgic.” The man’s glove was cold as it slipped beneath Roman’s chin, tilting his head back just. “You have two options laid out before you. You can choose to rot in this cell until the needle comes, or you can accept the offer I’m generous enough to give and walk out of this jail a free man. Are you open to hearing me out?”
Roman’s mouth dried at the thought. Freedom. What would it look like without Sidian waiting for him? What would it feel like to live in a world without his omega? “I want him back.”
“Him.” The man tilted his head from one side to the other, as if considering. “The omega?”
Roman’s eyes narrowed. “My omega.”
“We can make arrangements for such a thing, I assume, provided you accept the offer I extend.” The man dropped his hand, and Roman waited, watching as he seemed to gather himself.
“My name is Lorcan Devereaux, and I own the Viper mercenary squad. We’ve lost a member in the recent past, and I’ve had a difficult time finding a suitable replacement. You just might fill that slot.”
Viper? Mercenary squad? How had one of the richest men in the country found his way into Roman’s cell to offer such a thing? “You’re with Ouroboros?”
“That I am.” Lorcan slipped his hands into the pockets of his pants like he had all the time in the world to wait, but why wouldn’t he?
If he had time to stop in a Podunk little town like Roman’s, then he must not have been a busy man.
This was just a business meeting for him.
“I will have you trained to my standards as quickly as possible in order to ensure you will not be a burden during our missions. If you cannot live up to my expectations, I’ll put a bullet in the back of your skull, and I will ensure that no one will find your corpse. How does that sound?”
Better than the inside of a cell. Better than death at the hands of the system that demanded the violence. Roman was more than happy to give them to keep his mate safe. “And Sidian?”
“As I said, I can make arrangements for such a thing.” Lorcan arched one dark brow, silent meaning clear.
There was no reason to sit in that cell and wait for daybreak, wait for death, wait to be made nothing but a useless corpse to be tossed into an incinerator since no living member of Roman’s family would want anything to do with his body.
He would have been satisfied to die if it meant atoning for failing Sidian, but if he had a chance to survive, a chance to be reunited with his omega…
Then it would be a failure not to accept it. “I’ll join.”
“Good boy.” Lorcan turned, snapping his fingers, the sound echoing through the empty cell. “Follow me. We have a long drive ahead of us.”