Epilogue
LARK
Emile swept me around the ballroom, leaving me breathless with the intensity of his gaze, just in time to pass me to Conor, whose bright smile left me breathless in a different way.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmured as he spun me around. “And hopefully armed as well.”
I scoffed as he dipped me, “What do you think?” As if we hadn’t been planning this operation for months, to take out the matchmaker who’d sold me to my pack, still playing the respectable official while he abused omegas.
“I think you’re gorgeous, clever, and you’re going to enjoy cutting off Julian Laurent’s balls and feeding them to him tonight.”
Goddess, this man knew me, and it warmed me from the inside that not only did he know how bloodthirsty I was, he loved it.
Conor twirled me and twirled me and twirled me, locking my gaze until we stumbled off the dance floor. He handed me a glass of champagne, and I tripped, accidentally dumping it all over a beautiful woman whose make-up covered several bruises.
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” I said, my voice light and airy, my public persona as brainless as Conor’s.
We fit into the billionaire set brilliantly—a shiftless heir to billions, an attorney to the stars, and their silly little omega, whose registration magically reappeared once Conor made a generous donation to the Omega Institute.
“Can I help you clean that up?” I asked her, wrapping my fingers around her wrist and practically dragging the omega out of her seat.
“No no no no, I’m fine,” she protested, looking around with panic in her eyes.
“Desiree,” a deep voice said. “What’s this?”
I looked up and came face to face with the alpha who sold me, underage and defenseless, in exchange for the chance to rape me and take my virginity. He didn’t recognize me—it’d been ten years. Why would he?
I shivered, but didn’t forget my role. “I am so sorry! I spilled my drink all over your omega. Please, let her come to the restroom so I can try and repair the damage.”
“Oh, that isn’t necessary,” the omega said, while Laurent snarled his refusal.
“Nonsense,” I responded, then looked up at Laurent, my eyes wide and innocent.
“You’re so sweet though, to want to stay with your girl!
Why don’t you come with us? You can stand outside of the restroom with my alphas.
” I looked over my shoulder at Emile and Conor, who’d materialized beside me.
“They don’t like to let me go by myself either,” I stage-whispered, winking at the omega.
Trapped by social conventions and unwilling to embarrass the omega of the son of one of the richest men in the country, the alpha grumbled his assent.
We swept out of the room, the three alphas trailing behind us. I kept up a patter of nonsense until we reached the restroom.
The omega stopped and waited for her alpha, while I opened the door and feigned my delight. “Look! There’s a vestibule! You don’t even have to wait in the hallway.”
Conor rolled his eyes, but bent to kiss my forehead with affection. “Alphas don’t belong in omega bathrooms, baby.”
“Don’t be silly,” I responded, well aware I was being just that. “Won’t you be more comfortable here?”
Conor shared a long look with the other alpha, pretending to be first annoyed, then indulgent with his silly little omega. “Okay, baby, whatever you want.”
They followed us in and took their seats in the elegant plush anteroom, while I dragged the omega into the actual restroom.
“You have two minutes to change and disappear,” I said, climbing up on top of a toilet and retrieving a bag out of the ceiling. “Or you can go back to him. Choose.”
The omega looked at me with big eyes and shook her head. “I can’t. He’ll—”
“I’m going to kill him when he comes rushing to look for you in a few minutes,” I said calmly. “I need you to be in the crawlspace in the ceiling and on your way out to a new life by the time that happens.”
She froze. “Kill him?”
I nodded, meeting her blue eyes with mine.
“Promise?”
“Promise,” I said, squeezing her hand.
She nodded shakily, then ripped off her gown, shoving the utilitarian sweatshirt over her head and stepping into the tactical pants. “Up you go,” I murmured. “Someone’s waiting for you at the end of the air duct.”
She clasped my hand. “Thank you,” she whispered, and allowed me to boost her up into the ceiling. “How do I ever repay you?”
“Pay it forward.”
Two minutes later, the alpha burst into the restroom. “Where the fuck is she?” he roared.
I shot him in the neck with a paralytic dart. He slapped it away, glaring at us before his legs buckled. His body hit the tile hard, eyes wide with rage he couldn’t express, vocal cords frozen mid-scream.
“They’ll blame his omega,” Emile said softly, kneeling beside the twitching body.
“But they won’t find her,” I answered, hiking up my gown and planting one stiletto heel on Laurent’s chest. I bent down until my face was inches from his. “Remember me? The omega you raped to ‘verify’ before you sold me?”
Recognition flickered in his paralyzed eyes. Good.
I pulled the thin blade from my hair. “You took my choices. My body. My future.” I traced the knife along his jawline, letting blood well up in a thin red line. “Now, you’ll pay for that.”
Conor handed me a pair of pliers, his smile dark and approving. “His teeth first, baby?”
“No.” I unzipped Laurent’s trousers, watching terror flood his eyes as understanding hit. “I promised myself I’d feed him his balls. Let’s start there.”
He convulsed after the first cut. Blood pooled on the pristine white tile as I worked, methodical and careful—not because I cared about him, but because I didn’t want to get blood on my dress. When I finally held up my prize, slick with blood, Conor pried open Laurent’s jaw.
“Eat,” I commanded, shoving the severed flesh past his teeth. “Choke on it like you made me choke on your cock at fifteen.”
He did, eyes bulging. I covered his mouth with one hand, and my other pressed against his chest, feeling his uneven heartbeat through my palm as he spasmed and choked on his own testicles.
“That’s it,” I murmured. “I want this to be the last thing you see—me, taking everything from you.”
His heart stopped—one final pulse, then nothing.
I remained crouched over the body, breathing hard, Laurent’s blood splattered across my face and gown. The rage that had sustained me for a decade drained away, leaving only raw and aching sadness in its place.
“Lark.” Conor’s voice was wrecked, his pupils so wide I could barely see the blue of his eyes.
Both of my alphas stared at me with blown pupils and barely restrained hunger.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Emile rasped, dropping to his knees beside me, heedless of the blood on the tiles of the bathroom floor. He cupped my jaw, thumb smearing through the blood on my cheek. “Covered in the blood of your enemy.”
“Our perfect, sweet killer,” Conor growled, circling behind me.
Emile’s hand slid up my leg, pushing up the blood-soaked gown to reveal my skin.
Conor gathered the fabric from behind, shoving it up around my waist.
Emile’s fingers slipped inside of my lace panties and found me slick, my body ready for them, aching for their touch.
“Soaked,” he murmured. “Our bloodthirsty little murderer, wet and ready for us after taking your revenge.”
“Yes,” I moaned, reaching for him, dragging him down for a messy kiss as I ground against his hand.
“I fucking love it,” Conor groaned, lifting me so I was positioned between the two of them. “I love you, Lark—I love you both.”
Emile took control of the kiss, turning it brutal, groaning into my mouth as he worked me roughly with his fingers.
“Gonna take you right here,” Conor muttered into my ear, his cock pressing against my ass. “Going to fill our omega up while you’re still covered in blood.”
Oh my goddess. “Yes yes yes,” I pled. I’d never needed anything more in my life.
His fingers tangled with Emile’s as he gathered my slick, then he pressed into my ass, drawing a strangled moan out of me as he filled me. “Conor,” I whined. So good. So full.
“That’s it, take it,” Conor growled. “Take your reward for being such a good fucking girl, for making him suffer, for taking your revenge like the goddess you are.”
Emile broke our kiss to trail his mouth down my throat, nipping at the teeth marks on either side of my throat, his and Conor’s.
“Absolutely fucking perfect.” He lifted one of my legs and slid one arm underneath my knee, opening me up for him.
“I’ve never been so turned on in my life. You’re fucking radiant, little one.”
“I could watch you kill every day for the rest of my life,” Conor moaned into my neck. “The both of you.”
Emile smiled and met Conor’s lips over my shoulder as he filled me, stretching me, the brutal, desperate fucking driving me wild. “So bloodthirsty,” Emile said, every muscle in his body straining.
Their praise sent me over the edge. I came hard, my vision whiting out as pleasure crashed through me.
Emile and Conor came moments later, burying themselves deep inside me.
We stayed there, silently, in our formalwear, spattered in blood, covered in sweat, breathing hard, Laurent’s corpse cooling beside us.
They were right. This was perfect.
“We should go,” Conor said finally, although he made no move to release me.
Emile chuckled softly before pulling out. I whimpered in dismay at finding myself empty.
Conor helped me stand, then dragged me against him in a fierce hug. He kissed my forehead, then pulled Emile over to do the same to him.
Emile pocketed Laurent's phone. We'd need it to access his network, to find the other men who'd bought and sold omegas like me.
Then he shrugged off his tuxedo jacket and wrapped it around my shoulders, buttoning it before I could slide my arms through, covering the blood on my dress and effectively hampering any more bloodletting on my part.
He knew me too well.
“Shall we?” Emile wrapped his arm around my waist, perfectly composed despite what we'd just done. Conor flanked my other side, and we walked out of that bathroom like we owned the world.
In that moment, covered in the blood of my abuser and wrapped in the arms of my mates, I finally did.
We left the party, three killers in love, and no one noticed a thing.
FIN