Chapter 3 Lena
Time bled while I was like this. There was no way to keep track of it when pain was the only thing I could focus on.
Once my heat intensified and control slipped, silence was no longer an option as I begged to be knotted, filled, marked, and mated.I had long since ripped the clothes from my body, a sign that I was ready for restraints.
Marco ordered my wrists bound, while he pulled a metal folding chair into my prison, ready to watch me writhe on the floor.
I tried desperately to bring my hands to my core, to fill myself with my fingers, even knowing the only thing that would satisfy the contractions was a knot.
But I couldn’t with my wrists bound behind me, as they always were.
A puddle of omega slick collected beneath me as I pleaded with Marco to fill me.
“Ah,” he murmured, crouching over me and inspecting my exposed body. “How I’ve missed your lovely voice. You beg so wonderfully.”
He didn’t touch me, though. Not this time.
Sometimes Marco would taunt me, exposing his knot and waving it in front of me until I became feral with need.
Sometimes he would even let me close my lips around it, just long enough for me to taste what my body craved more than anything.
Today, he only watched, keen eyes assessing how close I’d come to my limit.
“Remember, this was your choice, Lena,” he said as he stood. “You could be panting with pleasure, satisfied and content. Instead, you’re a pathetic puddle on the floor, crying out desperately for relief,” he said, tutting softly. “Now I’ll satisfy my rutt upstairs with one of my other omegas.”
"Please, Marco!" I begged, voice raw from disuse. "Please knot me! I'll do anything!"
He tutted again, "You know it's too late for that. Maybe next heat, you'll say 'yes' before–"
The door swung open, and one of his top lieutenants, Luca, rushed in.
“Sir,” he said nervously.
If there was anyone I hated more than Marco, it was Luca.
“What is it, Luca?” Marco snapped. “You know better than to interrupt now!”
“I’m sorry, sir, but you said if anything came in from General Green, you wanted to be notified immediately. I thought you’d want to see this. It’s urgent.”
The man held out an envelope, stamped with the Arca emblem, which Marco ripped from his hands. He unfolded a letter, reading part of it, as his expression shifted from stern to furious.
“Fuck!” he roared, then turned to Luca. “Gather everyone. Send messengers to the Russo family as well.”
He barked orders rapidly as he turned on his heel and left the room. Marcos' rabid dog followed. The door slammed shut behind them.
I had grown very adept at infuriating Marco, but whatever was in that message had enraged him far beyond anything I’d ever managed. Then realization hit me. In the fog of his fury, he hadn’t locked the door. It slammed shut with a sharp sound, but I hadn’t heard the familiar click of the deadbolt.
The door stood unlocked!
I could escape.
Except my body was still in agony. I could barely unfold myself from the fetal position, let alone stand, walk, or leave the confines of my room. I’d been in heat for some time, but not long enough for the contractions to ease. By the time they did, someone would notice the unlocked door.
I had no other choice.
In five years, I'd never gotten this chance.
Marco’s words from earlier replayed in my head.
Every heat takes something from you. I’ll keep chiseling away at what’s left until there’s nothing to resist with.
He was right. Eventually, I would give in. I’d come terrifyingly close this time, having genuinely considered it. If I didn’t escape now, I wasn’t sure I would survive another heat.
As that realization settled in, the image followed, like it always used to. Before this place, they formed in my mind more clearly. Captivity had dulled my brain.
Still, in the haze of heat, through the panic and pain, I saw it.
A map. The basement first, then the long hall I’d walked after the stairs. Years ago, Luca had brought me down here blindfolded, so I’d never seen the upper floors, yet the layout, the turns, even the shift from cold air to warmth as we entered the house, all aligned in my mind.
Every detail I’d gathered laid itself out, telling me which turns to take, forming an escape path .
The map was so clear in my mind.
Another image surfaced alongside the first.
Two outcomes unfolded at once in my mind. One ended with me still on the floor, the door locked again, the chance to escape gone so completely it might never return. The other carried me forward, through the halls, up the stairs, and out into freedom.
I saw each result as clearly as my eyes saw color.
But my escape window was already closing. Guards would rotate. Locks would be checked. The house would settle back into its rhythm, and I would be folded into my cage once again.
There was no third path.
I didn't weigh them or debate. I moved.
“Get up,” I growled to myself.
I gathered every shred of resolve left and forced my body to unfold, trying to stand. Pain tore through me immediately. My limbs shook, nearly uncontrollably, and my balance wavered. Each contraction was brutal and relentless. Still, I took one step. Then another. Then another.
I stood backward in front of Marco’s metal chair, feeling along it with my bound hands until my fingers caught on something sharp. It was a jagged edge near the folding hinge.
I wedged the zip tie against it and sawed back and forth, ignoring the sting as plastic tightened on my wrists.
Just as my hands grew numb from circulation loss, my restraints suddenly snapped. A tingling sensation spread through my fingers as blood flow returned.
I stretched my arms briefly before moving towards the door. My hand finally wrapped around the handle.
It turned.
The door creaked open.
I half expected someone to be standing on the other side.
A guard, Luca, or even Marco himself, waiting and laughing, ready to reveal it as another cruel trick.
It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d let me believe escape was possible.
He crushed that hope early on, and the punishment for trying had been brutal.
But the hallway stood empty.
When Marco told Luca to gather everyone, he’d meant it.
As soon as I stepped out of my prison, a sharp contraction rolled through my stomach, sending me stumbling. My vision blurred as my hands slid along the wall, bracing myself to stay upright. Every movement forward was torture.
Marco relocated each wife frequently, shuffling them between locations, always blindfolded and never told where they were. He moved me far less often. For the past two years, I'd been here, in the basement of his private residence as a punishment for refusing to speak.
I didn't know specifically where in Falcon City his home was located, but the map in my mind told me what turns to take through the house, as I recounted how I had entered it all those years ago.
Once outside, I hoped my mind would piece together another image, orienting and telling me which direction to go.
I groaned as a particularly brutal contraction struck me. Through my hazy vision, the basement stairs came into focus. They led upward, a single door waiting at the top, light seeping through the bottom gap. I prayed it stood unlocked.
I climbed as quietly as I could, pausing on the landing, waiting for the pain to ease before reaching for the handle.
Footsteps thudded on the other side of the door, freezing me in place.
I held my breath as whoever it was passed, waiting long after the sound faded before I finally turned the knob.
It opened.
Light flooded my vision, blinding me. I stumbled, gripping the railing to keep from tumbling backwards down the stairs.
As my eyes adjusted, I realized I was standing in a kitchen.
Marble counters gleamed beneath crystal chandeliers.
Stainless steel double ovens lined one wall, polished and pristine.
Off to the side, a smaller room stood partially open. Inside, surveillance monitors displayed feeds of the entire house. The chair positioned in front of them was empty.
No one was watching.
I crept out of the kitchen, straining to hear footsteps. In the distance, shouting echoed through the hall. Marco’s voice, furious and raw.
For a moment, the sound of his alpha voice called to me. My omega instincts, still burning with heat, pulled me toward it. Toward anyone who could knot me.
But years of practice had prepared me for this.
“You can do this, Lena,” I whispered under my breath. “Five years. Five years.”
The words looped in my head as I moved, following my mental map. Five years in his captivity. Five years of resisting him. I had survived so much and only had to hold out for a few more minutes. Just a few more minutes and I would finally be out of his grip.
I forced my feet to keep moving, away from the sound of Marco’s tempting voice, letting it fade behind me.
Beyond the kitchen was a maze, filled with turns.
Marco's home was massive. Left, right, through the second door.
More crystal chandeliers. Oriental rugs spread across polished hardwood, luxury stitched into every corner of the house.
Finally, I reached the foyer which contained a winding grand staircase, stretching to the upper floor.
Then I saw them.
The front doors.
Two massive wooden panels stood at the entrance, stained glass set into their frames and a three-dimensional lion carved into the interior wood features. Opulent and gaudy, just like Marco. I rushed toward them, grabbing the handles and shaking them, trying desperately to pry the doors open.
They didn’t budge.
I forced my mind to focus and spotted the deadbolt holding the doors shut. My hands fumbled as I turned it, then shoved hard against the wood.
It gave way.
I pitched forward, stumbling out and rolling down a short flight of exterior steps.
My knees and palms scraped against the paved stone, stinging sharply. My head thudded, pain blooming dully behind my eyes. Luckily, my contractions had eased a bit, signaling the end of my heat, and that slight relief made it easier to drag myself upright.
I looked around, struggling to get my bearings.
Behind me, a massive mansion loomed, every bit as decadent as its interior. Ahead, a wrought-iron privacy gate marked the edge of the property, a narrow road stretching beyond it. In the distance, the skyscrapers of Falcon City rose high, shimmering with warm light against the pitch-black sky.
I scrambled across the lawn, desperate to reach the gate. It creaked open just as headlights flared to life. I dove behind a bush, holding my breath as a car passed through. I waited until it cleared the driveway, then slipped out behind it, moving fast before the gates could close again.
I didn’t look back as the gates closed behind me. I hurried as fast as I could down the road, toward the towering city in the distance. Its lights called me like a beacon, growing brighter as the narrow road curved and fed into its heart.
At first, the streets were quiet. Long stretches of asphalt broken only by the occasional car passing too fast, headlights washing over me before disappearing into the dark.
I kept to the edges, slipping between shadows, flinching every time an engine slowed.
With each block, the city thickened around me.
More cars. More noise. Voices drifting from open windows. Neon signs humming overhead.
I blended into the night as best I could, trying to fit in, despite being nude.
Another figure moving with purpose, head down, limping but still going.
The farther I went, the safer it felt. I read every street sign, looking for familiar roads.
Years of watching and listening told me that Bellini’s territory thinned here.
His control didn’t stretch this deep into the city.
That was when I saw the checkpoint.
Barricades cut across the road ahead, floodlights mounted high, bathing everything in harsh white light. Armed personnel moved with practiced precision, uniforms crisp, weapons slung low. The symbol on their badges and uniform burned into my memory. I knew to whom they belonged.
Arca.
Relief surged in my chest, followed by fear and uncertainty.
Bellini had men everywhere. I couldn’t be sure who was loyal to Arca and who Marco had already bought. If just one of those men was on Marco's payroll, I would end up right back where I had just fled from.
I veered off the road, trying to slip past the barricade through a side street, keeping my head down and my pace steady. I almost made it.
"Hey!" a stern voice snapped sharply behind me.
I broke into a run.
“Stop!”
Footsteps thundered close, faster than mine. I didn’t get far as a beta soldier lunged, tackling me with ease. We hit the pavement hard, air ripping from my lungs as my cheek scraped against the ground.
Hands pinned my wrists. A knee pressed into my back.
“Got you,” he muttered.
I lay there shaking, breath coming in ragged bursts, the city roaring around us as floodlights swung in my direction.
I’d escaped Marco, but I wasn’t free.