13. Emile
EMILE
Lark rode the back of the alpha pimp like a koala bear, a wire wrapped around his throat as he gasped and flailed about, trying to escape her.
He couldn’t.
Pride filled my chest. Our woman. Our omega. And she didn’t need our help. She’d planned every detail, and watching her execute a perfect kill made my chest tighten with respect and pride.
Her eyes flicked to me, cold and furious, as she yanked the garotte harder, until the alpha collapsed to the ground.
Lark leapt back, then kicked the body, sneering.
She looked at Conor and me with the same disgust.
We had some groveling to do, but first, we needed to get this body off the street, no matter how shadowed and deserted it was, and into the alley where Lark intended to cut him into pieces.
Conor grabbed his feet, and I grabbed him under the shoulders. Together we lifted him and waited for our omega’s instructions. Silently, she pointed to the shadows beside us, a narrow alley filled with detritus and trash bins.
We leaned his back against the wall, his legs straight out in front of him, as if he were sitting, then injected him with the paralytic that would keep him still, even once he swam back to consciousness.
Conor tied his hands together, and his feet, just in case, then looked over his shoulder, seeking our omega’s approval.
My heart sank at her inscrutable expression. Working with us on this kill hadn’t changed her mind. We’d make it perfect for her anyway. Show her how much better it could be when we were together. Then take her home and rut her through her heat.
Silently, Conor and I worked in tandem, slicing into the pimp, stripping away his humanity piece by piece as we skinned him alive.
When his eyes finally opened, Lark crouched in front of him. “This is for the omegas that you’ve trafficked and tortured.”
He couldn’t respond, but the stench of piss surrounded us as he realized just how dire his circumstances were.
“I’m not going to bite you because I don’t want scum like you in my head,” Lark growled, “but I am going to make sure you can’t bite anyone else ever again.”
She pulled a pair of pliers out of the pocket of her cargo pants.
“Hold him.”
The paralytic should have kept him from wiggling, but Conor and I obeyed our vicious, bloody queen, kneeling beside him and holding his shoulders still. Conor grabbed the mark’s chin and tilted his head up, opening his mouth for Lark.
One by one, Lark yanked out the alpha’s teeth, grinning as blood spattered her hands and her face.
Fucking gorgeous.
As the paralytic wore off, the man struggled and kicked, but we held him still until she completed her gruesome operation.
When she finished, she pushed up on her knees to stand, smearing blood over the black tactical fabric of her pants.
The man was naked, his mouth a gaping wound of blood and misery, whimpering, but not quite dead yet.
“I oughta saw your dick off with a bread knife,” she mused.
I choked back a laugh.
“Instead, I’m gonna do this.”
She pulled a silenced gun out of the back of her pants and shot him in the cock, twice. Each time, his body twitched. She shot him a third time through the heart, ending the hours of torment as the first rays of sunlight fell into the alley.
Lark finally swept her gaze over Conor and me. Her contempt struck me in the chest, cracking open my soul and grinding it to dust.
Her lilac and vanilla scent wafted around us as we knelt on either side of the body, waiting for her judgment. We’d fucked up when we kidnapped her a second time, and now we were going to lose her.
Shit.
She dropped the gun on the ground beside the now dead pimp, his teeth, and the pliers. She didn’t bother peeling off her leather gloves—she wouldn’t want to leave any evidence behind.
She reached over me to fish my phone out of my pocket, thumbing it open and sending a quick text message. It pinged a second later.
Emile and I shared a surprised look as she handed my phone back to me.
“The omegas are safe,” she said, her face blank and unreadable.
We’d planned on raiding the brothel and saving the omegas after the kill.
Lark scoffed at our confusion. “Do you really think I’d leave their fates to you bumbling idiots?”
We had a plan. Conor was going to use his family’s wealth and connections to resettle those omegas. What had Lark done?
“They’re safe,” she murmured when she saw my stricken expression. “The Birds of Prey—” She cut herself off, as if she still didn’t trust us to reveal all her secrets. “I took care of it.”
She spun on her heel, but halted when Conor barked, “Stop!”
“Sweet omega, where are you going?” I asked her.
Her scent spiked, flooding my senses. “My heat’s coming, thanks to you fuckers,” she growled. “Now.”
Shit.
An omega, our omega, was in danger, and she was about to run off and put herself into even more danger because we fucked up and she didn’t trust us.
Every instinct called for me to bark at her, to order her into my arms so I could purr her senseless until she couldn’t think about anything but pleasing her alpha, because nothing in the goddess damned world would please me more than her safety.
Conor shook his head, as if he could see the direction of my thoughts.
I took a deep breath, then stood. Lark leapt backward, out of my reach, but didn’t take off.
Her eyes darted between the two of us, and I made a decision.
I reached into my pocket and tossed her my keys. “Take the car. Go to our apartment, lock the doors, and we’ll make sure nobody gets in during your heat. Including us. GPS is programmed in there as home.”
Conor held up both hands in the air as he stood. “We fucked up. We were wrong to take away your choices.” His voice cracked. “Let us keep you safe during your heat, then you can decide if you want to stay.”
Lark nodded sharply and took off without looking back.
“Guess we’re on clean-up,” Conor muttered.
“Guess we are.”