Chapter Nine
Fallon
Stepping down into the pit gives me chills.
That might also be the sexy-as-sin man standing next to me.
Something about the darkness inside him calls to the dark inside me.
I slide one arm around his waist and another around his chest, looking at the two men.
I was being honest when I said looking at these guys was gross.
As is, in fact, they are naked and have nothing to look at.
“Very interesting.” I purr the words in his ear.
I’m glad I’m wearing jeans because I can feel the slick soaking my thong.
Voss growls as he takes a deep breath and his nostrils flare. “Are you wet for me or for them.”
It’s almost comical how quickly the two dumbasses in front of us forget that they are about to be tortured. “And if it were for them?” I tease him licking the side of his neck.
“Then I’d rip their dicks off and shove them down their throats.” He looks ready to do just that. One of the men actually squeaks. Pathetic.
“Good thing it's all for you, baby.” I purr again. Running my hand down his chest then look at the men strung up. “Boys. I would answer the questions about to be asked. I know you don’t want to be hurt. I can’t convince them to let you go unless we can get what information we need.”
Voss stiffens, and someone behind us sucks in a breath. I tap Voss on the back and wave off the others where the men can’t see. Voss’ muscles relax slowly. I’m glad he realizes I’m pretending to be soft. “She may give you a chance. I would do anything for her. Even letting you go once we are done.”
I lean up and kiss his cheek before stepping around his to go to his table, curious to see what tools he uses. Pliers, saws, knives, clamps, a horse brush, and various other things.
I barely glance up from the scarred wooden table, my fingers absently tracing a deep groove in the surface as I speak. “Boys, do you know who’s taking the omegas?”
I can hear Kingston, Jace, Romano, John, and Colby start laughing. Not loud or long, but more like a room full of chuckling men.
I blinked, glancing up to see what the hell was so funny. I didn’t think what I asked was funny. Everything looks the same. The men in the room haven’t moved. Nothing seems different. My brows pull together. “What?”
Voss tosses an amused, sharp-edged smile over his shoulder, his eyes glinting with something close to cruel amusement. “Be thankful you have no sense of smell at this moment. They, however, do.” He steps to the side, and it takes me a full second to realize what he’s saying and showing me.
Oh. Oh no.
Both men—our supposed prisoners, our captives, our enemies—are rock fucking hard.
I groan, slapping a hand over my eyes as disgust curls in my stomach. “Oh, what the fuck?”
One of them, the first man, swallows audibly, and it sounds painful. “You’re an omega?” His voice is strained and tight, like speaking takes effort.
I lower my hand just enough to squint at him in irritation. “Yes. What does that have to do with anything?” Still confused. Still disgusted.
Voss, however, is having the time of his life. He laughs, delighted, stepping closer until he’s nearly in my space. His brown eyes flash with pure, unrepentant amusement as he leans in slightly, voice dropping just enough to make my skin prickle. “They can smell your slick, Princess.”
I jerked back like he just slapped me. “Excuse me?”
Voss only grins wider, and I don’t know what’s worse—the fact that he finds this hilarious or the fact that I now must be aware of this deeply unfortunate situation. “You are an unbonded omega, and they are alphas.” He gestures at them.
My nose wrinkles in deep, soul-crushing disgust as I flick a glance at the two men, who look both miserable and mortified.
“Sorry, boys, but given the circumstances—and the fact that I am very much married to four of the men in this room, including the one currently laughing his ass off—whatever you’re thinking? Not gonna happen. Flattering though.”
The second man, who up until now had been dazed, barely present, suddenly straightens, blinking rapidly, fully alert.
Like he was drowning and just clawed his way back to the surface.
His voice is even and measured, with the barest hint of strain under it.
“I would apologize, but as I assume every man in this room knows, it is involuntary. I would hope this… unfortunate reaction will not be used against us.”
I blinked, caught off guard by the sheer politeness of the request. I fold my arms across my chest, watching him carefully. “You understand the situation you’re in?”
He nods once, sharply. “I do.”
Kingston’s voice drawls from across the room, smooth and controlled, but carrying that weight of authority that makes it impossible to ignore. “It’s up to you, little one. If you forgive this transgression, we will as well.”
I glance at Kingston, then back to the man—studying him, reading the tension in his shoulders, the way his gaze stays locked on mine, steady, unflinching. Respectful. I step closer Voss following me, my presence looming over the two of them now instead of the other way around.
“What’s your name?” I ask, my voice softer, but no less firm. “I’m sure these brutes didn’t ask.”
The man nods once, his expression unreadable but careful. “I am Gregor. This is my twin, Ozias.”
I tilt my head, studying them. Gregor’s eyes don’t wander.
He doesn’t flick his gaze lower, doesn’t shift uncomfortably.
He looks at me. Acknowledging me but not challenging me.
Interesting. I nod. “Gregor, I can forgive this one thing. I accept your apology. I do not, however, accept what you are a part of.”
Silence lingers in the air, thick, heavy, suffocating.
Gregor swallows once, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and then nods again—this time slower, more deliberate.
Romano, who has wandered back in from his tech cave, flashes me a promising smile. I turn so no one sees me blush. Ugh. Trying to be badass here.
I can tell John and Colby are running out of patience.
John’s hands clench and unclench, the tendons in his forearms tight with barely restrained emotion.
It’s like he doesn’t know what to do with his own body, like the anger and fear are crawling under his skin, searching for an outlet.
His shoulders are too tight, and his breath is just a little too uneven.
Colby, on the other hand, is leaning against the wall near Jace, unmoving.
At first glance, he looks calm, detached, and unreadable.
But I see it—the storm brewing beneath the surface.
His jaw is locked so tight I half expect to hear his teeth crack.
His fingers twitch slightly against his thigh, and when his eyes flick to me, I see it—the quiet rage, the helpless despair, the need to act.
I know that feeling. I send them both a small, reassuring smile, hoping they can see past the tension, past the waiting, past the frustration that’s eating them alive.
This is calculated. Intentional. I hope they understand.
We aren’t stalling. My husbands and I discussed how this would go on the way here.
It’s showtime.
“Now, I’ll ask again. Who is kidnapping the omegas?”
Gregor shakes his head, as Ozias gives me a pleading expression.
“I wouldn’t lie boys. Voss, who is my current favorite husband, loves the idea of cutting little pieces off of you.”
Kingston, Jace, and Romeo protest demanding to know how to be my favorite. I laugh at them before continuing. “Now, who is taking them?”
“We really don’t know!” Ozias calls his voice full of fear. I wave for Voss to have at it while I walk back to my seat.
Kingston’s grip snags me, swift and possessive, pulling me flush against his chest. His warmth bleeds into my skin, and his strength is a cage that I don’t mind being trapped in.
“You are so sexy, little one.” His voice is a low, molten rasp, his breath ghosting over my ear, making my spine tingle. “My pretty, vicious omega.”
His lips press soft, open-mouthed kisses along my bare shoulder, slow and reverent, trailing upward, claiming.
His teeth graze a sensitive spot near the curve of my neck, and when he sucks gently, biting just enough to make my breath hitch, my body betrays me, shuddering against him.
Kingston chuckles, the sound deep and dark, reverberating in my chest like a second heartbeat.
His arms tighten around me, holding me there, grounding me, branding me.
And for a moment, just a brief, dangerous moment, I let myself melt into the feeling—the warmth, the safety, the way he makes the world feel smaller, simpler.
But I can’t. Not when Robert is still out there.
Not when other omegas are trapped, terrified, waiting for someone to save them.
The shift in my focus must be palpable, because Kingston doesn’t protest when I lean forward slightly, my attention snapping back to the men in the pit.
Voss is standing there, a force of pure, simmering violence, his voice low and lethal as he speaks. “We know it’s you two who are snatching the omegas.” His tone alone makes the air thick, heavy, suffocating. “Where is the group of omegas that were taken recently?”
Ozias looks like hell, his chest marred with deep, deliberate cuts, rivulets of blood trailing down his torso, dripping steadily onto the cold concrete. His face is pale and slick with sweat, his breath coming in shallow, uneven pulls.
Gregor isn’t much better, his head tilted back, his lips slightly parted, like keeping his eyes open takes too much energy. But when he finally lifts his gaze to Voss, there’s no defiance left. Only acceptance.
His voice is a rasp, barely more than air. “They’re in a warehouse across town in the slums.