Chapter Ten #2
I spent time with each of them, ensuring they were clean, comfortable, and not alone.
We had already stocked up on extra sweats before the rescue, knowing they’d need something warm and soft to slip into.
The house had plenty of unused rooms, and we set them up in one of the larger, empty ones on the other wing.
They refused to be separated, so we made sure they didn’t have to be.
I stayed with them as they called their packs, their families.
Some of the conversations were quiet, soft sobs and whispered reassurances.
Others were loud, frantic, packs demanding to know where their omegas had been taken.
I held a few of them as they broke down mid-call, their bodies shaking with the weight of fear and relief crashing together all at once.
But my heart still aches the most for Mary.
She was the one they had the longest. She was so small, so frail, her body nothing but sharp angles beneath her oversized clothes. She was so weak she couldn’t even hold the phone, so I had to put it on speaker for her.
And I will never forget how the man on the other end of that call sounded.
The moment he answered, his voice was soft, hesitant—like he had already resigned himself to never hearing from her again.
I swallowed hard, choosing my words carefully. “Hi, my name is Fallon. My pack is the Rosetti pack. We recently…” I pause, searching for a way to say it that won’t break him. “Acquired something that was stolen from you. That we would very much like to return.”
There’s a beat of silence. Then his voice shifts. It goes from tired and broken to sharp and cautious, words carefully measured.
“The Rosetti pack?” A pause. “I’m aware of the company and their reputation for… acquisitions.”
I matched his tone, keeping it deliberately business-like. “Ah yes, we came across something that belongs to you while acquiring other missing assets.”
His breath shudders so hard that he suddenly breaks into a coughing fit.
And then Mary, leaning heavily against my shoulder, manages to whisper in the weakest, rasping voice—“Miles.”
The sound that comes through the phone shatters me.
A loud, gut-wrenching sob rips through the line, followed by chaos in the background.
Desperate voices demanding to know what’s happening, people scrambling.
That sound still haunts my dreams. I wake up in terror most nights.
I’ve seen a lot of things since I became their wife, but that sound.
It was the worst thing that I’ve ever witnessed.
After several more promises, I gave him the address and hung up.
Less than thirty minutes later, her pack arrived.
I was still helping Mary to the door when they stormed inside.
She could barely walk, the sweats hanging too loose off her starved frame, making her steps uncertain.
But the moment she saw them, she let out a broken, breathy sob, and her legs gave out.
I managed to keep her up and stepped aside as they grabbed her, cradling her like she was the most precious thing in the world.
Their reunion solidified everything for me.
This.
This is why we do the things we do.
The four of them came home that night exhausted and covered in blood. Jace was the first thing I saw, a fresh bandage wrapped tightly around his arm. His face was hard, pissed off, coiled like a predator still waiting to strike.
I felt my stomach drop, panic clawing up my throat. “Jace.”
Kingston barely glanced up from where he was rolling his sleeves back down. “It’s nothing. Just a graze.”
I whipped back to Jace, my eyes scanning him for anything worse. He let out a long, slow breath, shaking his head.
“A bullet just skimmed me. It’s more of a burn than a wound.”
I still fretted over him, hovering, hands hovering over his arm, but before I could really spiral, he grabbed me.
One hard yank and I was flush against his chest, my breath catching.
Then he buried his face in the juncture of my neck and shoulder, breathing me in, holding me so tight it felt like he was trying to anchor himself with my scent.
I melted into him, exhaling slowly.
They’ve done three more extractions since that night. Some of the omegas were taken and almost lost forever.
Violet’s voice brings me back to the call. “O, are you going to the gym because you want to or because someone made you think you were less?”
My heart aches when Odette falls silent, the screen still filled with her hesitant expression before she carefully schools it into something neutral.
Odette is stunning, yet I know she doesn’t see herself as we do.
She’s curvy, full-figured in a way that screams soft, feminine power.
She isn’t even overweight—just generously built, with plush curves that only add to her beauty.
But because her waistline isn’t tiny, because she doesn’t fit into the rigid, suffocating beauty standards shoved down our throats, she’s endured more than her fair share of snide comments and cruel whispers.
Not from her family, thankfully. If either Violet or I had ever heard so much as a peep of that kind of bullshit, there would have been hands thrown immediately.
“Odette,” I start, my throat tightening, trying to find something, anything, to say that might convince her to see herself the way we do.
But she cuts me off before I can. “I’ve got to go, guys. Love you.” And just like that, her screen goes black.
I sigh, my shoulders slumping, the weight of my helplessness settling deep. “I really wish she could see herself the way we do. She’s a beautiful woman and kind as hell.”
“Preach it, sister.” Violet’s voice is sharp, laced with an edge of protective anger. I glance back at the screen and shake my head.
“I have to go, Vi. I can’t handle this right now. You be careful and stay safe. Love you.”
She nods, her blue eyes flashing with frustration, but she doesn’t argue.
When the call ends, I let out a long breath and pinch the bridge of my nose. The dull ache in my temples has transformed into a full-blown headache that throbs behind my eyes, pounding with every beat of my heart.
A soft knock on my office door pulls me from my spiraling thoughts. I blink, straightening up.
“Come in.”
The door bursts open, and a whirlwind of warmth and energy sweeps into the room. Before I can react, I’m scooped up effortlessly, lifted like I weigh nothing as Romano settles into my chair—only with me in his lap.
His arms wrap around me possessively, burying his face in my neck. He inhales deeply, groaning in satisfaction. “Ahh, much better. I was lonely. I missed my little love.” His voice is smooth and affectionate, his hold around me firm but not suffocating. Just solid. Warm.
I melt into him, resting my head against his broad chest, my fingers curling into his shirt. “I missed you too, Ro.”
His grin is devastating, bright, and full of mischief as he brushes my hair away from my face, trailing his fingers down my cheek.
His touch is so gentle that it makes my throat tighten. “What are you doing in here besides stressing?” His tone is playful, but I can hear the concern beneath it.
I exhale, explaining everything—Odette, the endless stack of resumes, the frustration, the stress weighing on me.
His frown deepens, his brows pulling together. “I don’t like you upset.” He taps his fingers against my knee, thoughtful. “I know something that’ll cheer you up.”
I tilt my head back, peering up at him with narrowed eyes. “Oh yeah?”
His grin spreads slowly and dangerously, and my breath catches in my throat. Goosebumps prickle my skin as the atmosphere between us shifts.
Romano leans down, capturing my lips in a kiss that starts soft, teasing— until he nips at my bottom lip, making me gasp.
And then he takes advantage.
His tongue sweeps into my mouth, claiming, teasing, tasting. I don’t stand a chance. I’m utterly consumed, my body pressing closer on instinct. The heat between us ignites like a spark catching dry kindling.
When he finally pulls away, we both breathe harder, his lips kiss-swollen and slightly smug. His eyes flick over my dazed expression, and his voice drops into something low and satisfied. “Oh, little love… I need a better taste.”
I barely have time to process before he stands with me still in his arms. Romano lowers me slowly like he has all the time in the world. Like he wants to savor every second, tease me with the anticipation of what’s coming next.
But I don’t want slow.
I don’t want gentle, measured, teasing.
I want him.
I take one step back, my breath coming faster, my hands moving before I even think about it. I grab the hem of my sweater and yank it over my head, tossing it somewhere behind me, uncaring where it lands.
Romano’s eyes darken instantly, his pupils dilating as his gaze devours every inch of bare skin revealed to him.
A low growl rumbles from deep in his chest, raw and approving, and the sound sends a hot, electric thrill through my veins.
“Fuck, little love.” His voice is rough, wrecked, already thick with hunger. He pulls his glasses off and sets them on my desk.
His hands go to the collar of his own shirt, but he doesn’t just pull it off— he rips it over his head in one smooth motion, tossing it to the side.
The sight of him—golden skin stretched over hard muscle, broad chest rising and falling with barely contained restraint, the ink swirling down his arms and across his ribs—makes my mouth go dry.
He steps forward, closing the space between us, his bare skin brushing mine, and I shiver from the heat radiating off his body.
His hands find my waist, sliding up my sides, fingers tracing the curve beneath my ribs. His touch is light, teasing, not nearly enough.
“I swear to the gods,” I breathe, already impatient, already aching. “If you don’t touch me properly—”
Romano grins, the wicked, cocky smirk of a man who knows exactly what he’s doing.
“Patience, little love.” His voice drips with amusement, but his hands are already sliding higher, tracing the edge of my bra, his thumbs grazing over sensitive skin.
I let out a frustrated whimper, arching into him, and his control fractures just enough.
He grabs me, crushing me against him, and suddenly, his mouth is on mine again—hot, demanding, claiming.
I moan into him, fingers digging into his bare shoulders, nails scraping against the muscle there. He growls, the sound vibrating against my lips as his hands slide down, gripping my ass, lifting me effortlessly.
I don’t hesitate—I wrap my legs around his waist, feeling the solid heat of him between my thighs.
“Couch.” It’s the only word I manage before he’s moving, carrying me like I weigh nothing.
He doesn’t even look where he’s going—he knows. One second, I’m wrapped around him, his mouth trailing fire down my throat. The next, I’m on my back on the couch, Romano caging me beneath him, his weight pressing me into the cushions, exactly where I want him.
His lips trail down my jaw, down my neck, teeth scraping, sucking at the most sensitive points, and I can feel myself melting beneath him, coming undone before he’s even truly begun.
I don’t want to go slow.
And from the way he’s looking at me, breathing heavily above me, neither does he.
And gods, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Romano’s weight presses me into the couch, firm, solid, exactly where I want him. His bare chest is scorching hot against mine, the feeling of his skin, his muscles shifting beneath my touch, making my entire body tighten in anticipation.
I writhe beneath him, trying to get closer, trying to create friction where I need it most, but the bastard grins against my throat, dragging his teeth over my pulse. “Impatient, little love?”
“You’re talking too much.” I snap back, digging my nails into his shoulders, and his breath hitches, his body tensing over me.
His hands slide lower, fingers brushing just under the band of my bra, teasing along the swell of my breasts.
I let out a soft whimper, my back arching instinctively into his touch, silently begging for more.
His lips find my collarbone, then the dip between my breasts, kissing and nipping as he moves lower, his breath scorching against my flushed skin.
“Gods, you’re stunning.” His voice is almost reverent, his eyes heavy with heat and something deeper that makes my stomach flip.
I don’t have time to process it before he’s gripping my thighs, spreading me wider beneath him, slotting his body between my legs. The rough fabric of his jeans presses against my core, and I let out a broken gasp, rocking my hips up to meet him.
Romano curses, gripping my hips to still me, his fingers digging into my skin like he’s barely holding on.
“Careful, little love.” His voice is strained, his control hanging by a thread.
“Or what?” I breathe, challenging, taunting. I lift my hips again, pressing against him, feeling just how hard he is through our clothes.
The air crackles between us, and then his restraint snaps. Romano growls low in his throat, his hands sliding up my ribs, thumbs dragging beneath the lace of my bra. “Or I stop.” And then he hooks his fingers under the band of my bra, dragging it up, exposing me to him.
His breath catches, his pupils blown wide, his lips parting slightly like he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing. “Fucking perfect.” Before I can respond, before I can even think, his mouth is on me, hot and wet, tongue flicking over my nipple as he sucks me into his mouth.
A strangled moan escapes me, my fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.
He groans against me, the vibration sending a sharp spike of pleasure straight to my core.
His hands are everywhere, palming my other breast, dragging down my stomach, gripping my waist, leaving scorching paths of heat with every touch.
I am burning, unraveling, coming apart beneath him, and we are still fully dressed. That won’t do. With shaking hands, I reach between us, fingers fumbling for the button of his jeans.
Romano chuckles against my skin, nipping at my breast before pulling back just enough to meet my gaze. “Eager, are we?” His voice is pure sin, deep and teasing, but there’s a wildness in his eyes, a hunger he’s barely holding back.
I pop the button open, slowly dragging the zipper down, keeping my eyes locked on his. “I told you you were talking too much.”
His eyes flash with something dark, something dangerous. “Then let me put my mouth to better use.” And with one smooth motion, he hooks his fingers in my leggings, dragging them down my legs and tossing them aside, leaving me in nothing but my underwear beneath him.
I barely get a breath in before he presses me back into the couch, his mouth capturing mine, stealing the air from my lungs.
And I am more than willing to let him.