Chapter 5 Lark
CHAPTER FIVE
LARK
I blink, so utterly startled by the insane male proposing to me that I don’t realize what’s happening until the gun disappears from my hand and ends up in Lazarus Ferraro’s palm.
Shit!
I shouldn’t have let the redheaded sin-on-a-stick alpha distract me.
A growl leaves me, and I launch myself at him, no longer caring about anything else other than unleashing my fury.
These damn alphas.
Lazarus fucking Ferarro.
Finding me.
Tricking me—still not sure how they did that.
And threatening my town!
Then proposing to me as a distraction while strangling me with his intoxicating scent. All of their scents, I think, dizzy from the cafe-like atmosphere and that decadent hint of chocolate. Focus, Lark.
I scratch my nails across Noah’s face and snarl at him like I’m just as insane as he is. And maybe I am. Maybe I have gone a little crazy.
Because these fuckers are here to take Widows Peak from us.
Never going to happen.
“Whoa!” Noah shouts, grappling for my wrists.
The world spins, and I’m suddenly flat on my back with him on top of me, his hazel eyes burning down at me in an array of beautiful colors. Blue, green, auburn. Such a unique combination of pigments, the intensity momentarily stunning me.
Or maybe it’s the air leaving my lungs that does that.
Because ow.
He has my wrists caught beneath one big hand, his opposite at my throat. But he’s not squeezing. Instead, he’s… he’s petting me.
“Calm down, little bee,” he murmurs, his chest vibrating against mine as he purrs.
What the fuck is happening right now? And why am I going limp in response?
“That’s it, sweet girl,” he coos, his Irish lilt seeming to soften his tone even more. “God, you’re killing me.” He drops his head to my neck and inhales, the motion causing my eyes to nearly close.
Until I meet Lazarus Ferraro’s obsidian gaze from above. My gun is nowhere to be seen. Not that it’ll help me now. He’s staring down at me with an indifferent expression, his chiseled features ones I would recognize anywhere.
Because he’s a fucking god of an alpha.
Tall. Broad shoulders. Thick black hair that falls past his ears. Tan skin. Intensely dark eyes. Square jaw decorated with an elegantly trimmed beard. Full lips.
It’s like the heavens above chose to give him every single beautiful physical trait, just to make him that much more lethal.
Because inside is a heart so black that even the most dangerous crime lords fear him.
I’ve heard the stories.
I know what he’s done. Who he is. How he does business.
That’s why I chose the Ferraro family to steal from. If anyone could stand to lose a few dollars to a good cause, it’s him.
“The next time you pull a gun on me, I suggest you use it,” he says, his cultured tone causing my stomach to twist.
Not just because his deep alpha voice is an aphrodisiac to my inner omega, but because his natural cologne is swirling all around me.
Dark chocolate with a hint of cherry.
Another damn scent match.
Three, actually.
Because that hot guy with the glass is also mine.
Which means they’re a pack.
Of course they’re a pack. I knew that the moment I stepped onto the jet and smelled their combined fragrances.
That’s why I questioned Johan. Something didn’t feel right.
Or rather, it felt too right. Because of the instant scent match.
There was no way my brother sent these alphas to get me. I determined that before Lazarus stepped into view.
But seeing him confirmed my suspicions.
And brought all my worst fears to life.
“I’m not a forgiving man, Ms. Bianchi,” he goes on, still holding my gaze. “I fully intended to destroy the one who stole all those funds. And I still might. But it won’t be in any way that you’ve imagined.”
My stomach twists. He’s talking about killing me. “My father will annihilate you,” I promise. “I’m an omega and his only daughter. Hurting me is a death sentence for you.”
He stares down at me, his indifferent mask seeming to flicker with some sort of emotion. It’s not fear, though. Or anger. It… it looks like pity.
Which doesn’t make sense.
Why would he pity me?
Or is that regret I’m seeing? That would make more sense.
“Kidnapping me is a mistake,” I add, hoping I’m reading that sentiment wrong. “Release me, and I’ll just go back to Widows Peak. And we’ll… we’ll forget this ever happened.”
His expression hardens. “That’s never going to happen, princess. Now get up. It’s time to go.”
Noah groans on top of me. “But I’m comfortable.”
“Stop fucking around,” Lazarus growls at him. “You can play with our omega later.”
I bristle at that. “I will not be playing with anyone.” My body might be reacting to their scents and my inner thighs might be slick with need, but I have no intention of letting their knots anywhere near me.
Well.
No intention of letting them closer to me, as I can feel the one currently throbbing against my overheated center. It’s almost like I’m naked. Like Noah’s naked, too. Because I swear I can sense his pulse through my clit.
“You wound me, little bee,” Noah murmurs against my ear. Then he rolls off of me and moves deftly to his feet, his actions lithe and reminding me of a panther more than a hulking alpha.
When he holds out a hand for me, I glare at it.
“You’re the one who came clawing at me,” he reminds me softly. “I merely defended myself.”
“By pinning me to the ground?” I snap.
“Okay, so I defended myself… and I enjoyed it very much.” He drops his hand. “Any time you want to spar, I’m your alpha.”
“You’re not my anything.”
He shrugs and wanders over to the jet’s exit—which I realize is still wide open.
Or it was wide open.
Until now as he closes it.
I frown. “Kind of hard to leave when the door is closed.”
He glances at me, confusion in his expression. “We can’t fly with the door open, pet.”
“I’m not your pet,” I mutter at him. Only, my frown deepens. “Wait, fly?”
“That is what the boss man meant when he said it was time to go.” He waggles his brows at Lazarus. “Right, boss?”
The Ferraro don growls. “You’re just begging for a demonstration right now.”
“I did say you practically invited him to play,” Johan inserts from his seat. He hasn’t moved from his executive chair, a laptop still perched on his leg. Yet he’s watching me with his beautiful ice-blue eyes.
He seems to be the least lethal of the group. Yet I can tell that doesn’t mean he’s soft. He’s just… a different kind of deadly, maybe.
“How did you figure out it was me who stole the funds?” I ask him, my stomach knotting for an entirely different reason.
Because I’m pretty sure I know how.
And it has everything to do with that laptop on his lap.
“If I asked how you hacked into our accounts, would you tell me?” he counters.
“No.”
He smiles, and the beautiful man now has dimples, making him even more alluring. “Then you’ll understand why I’m not going to answer your question,” he replies, confirming that his laptop is indeed his weapon of choice.
A fellow hacker.
Great.
Just fucking great.
I’m not sure who to fear more—the psychotic assassin who just proposed to me, the mafia don, or the lethally handsome hacker.
Probably all of the above.
And they’re my scent matches.
Ugh.
I want to roll onto my side, curl into a ball, and just… disappear into the floor.
But the floor is now moving.
Or rather, the jet is moving.
Because we’re about to fly.
I sit up suddenly, my gaze going to Lazarus. “You’re going to attack from the air?” I ask, dread filling my veins. “Are you…?” I can’t finish the question. I… I can’t stomach to even conceive what I intended to ask.
He said he was going to take the town. Not destroy it. But maybe I misunderstood?
All my friends…
“Please,” I whisper, staring up at him and not caring at all that he can probably see my heart breaking. “Please don’t hurt them.”
He gives me an unreadable look. “Your family?”
“They’re like my family, yes.” I probably shouldn’t have admitted that out loud.
“We’ve been through hell, Lazarus. I wouldn’t have stolen your money otherwise.
But they needed a safe place to be… to be free.
The omegas have started over there. They’ve built that town from scratch. Please don’t destroy it.”
A myriad of emotions seem to tumble through his features, the chief among them—fury.
He’s angry that I have the nerve to ask him for anything. I get that. But I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t try to save my friends.
“Please,” I add again. “I’ll do whatever you want. They don’t even know what I did. Please don’t punish them for my sins. They’ve… we’ve…” I close my eyes. “Please… sir.”
I’m aware I look weak. Broken. Stupidly na?ve. Especially as a tear escapes my eye. But this is my worst nightmare come to life. A trap I idiotically waltzed right into.
I was suspicious. However, then my brother used the bee references, and I… I thought it was really him.
Only now I realize it was Johan.
God, he’s good.
In another situation, I would be impressed.
Though, right now, I’m anything but.
“What hell have you been through?” Lazarus demands.
“Gideon Henderson?” Johan suggests. “It would explain why she went on that mission last month.”
My eyes spring open, my focus on him in an instant. He knows about that?
God, of course he does.
What don’t these men know?
“How long have you been watching me?” I demand, aware that my emotions are having whiplash. But I… I deserve answers.
Or, well, I probably don’t.
However, I’m going to push for them anyway.
“Years, little cat,” he replies.
Little cat? I nearly echo.
But my chin is suddenly caught in Lazarus’s hand, and he’s bending so that his chiseled features are the only ones I can see. “What hell, Ms. Bianchi?” he repeats.
I swallow. “The Doll program,” I whisper, feeling the need to be truthful with him. Maybe if he realizes what happened to us, he’ll… he’ll be compassionate.
Though, just thinking that nearly has me snorting.
This is Lazarus fucking Ferraro. Compassion doesn’t exist in his world.
“Elaborate.” A single word, uttered with such dominance that I nearly whimper.
This is an alpha in his prime. Maybe thirty-eight or thirty-nine years old. I can’t remember his exact birthday. But I know he’s deadly. I know he’s a don. And I know… I know better than to ignore his command.
“Gideon Henderson trafficked and groomed omegas to be Dolls for alpha packs. He… he kidnapped the six of us—the ones who own Widows Peak—during our eighteenth year, then tried to sell us when we turned twenty-one. But we escaped.” I swallow again. “He takes six a year…”
I trail off, aware I spoke that in the present tense when it should have been the past tense.
So I amend by saying, “He used to take six a year. Kept us in the Henderson mansion. Trained us as a group with beta handlers. However, it’s done. Gideon’s dead. As are the beta handlers.”
I don’t really know what else to say.
But I try one more time to save my friends. “Please don’t hurt them, Mr. Ferraro.”
His responding growl echoes through the cabin.
Only to be overshadowed by the roar of the engine as the jet begins to really move. We’re taking off.
He looks up sharply, then suddenly I’m flying through the air as he lifts me into his arms and takes me to the seat beside Johan. I startle as a belt is buckled around me… and Lazarus.
Because he has me in his lap.
Noah takes the chair across from us with a skip, completely unfazed by the ground tilting around us. He casually snaps himself in, then winks at me.
I glare back at him.
Which has him grinning like a damn loon.
Because he’s nuts. They probably all are, honestly.
And now I’ve just been officially kidnapped by them.
This is bad.
Very. Fucking. Bad.