AllFreeNovel
Share Us
It was good because Icouldn’toffer what he did. Slender, gentle, and soft-spoken he might be, but that Omega had more strength than I ever would. And I needed him because I didn’t know how to teach someone how to survive something that was still eating me alive.
Thistle went tense again as he returned with a drink he placed on the table before me.
“Callum,” I murmured.
He paused, tilting his head as he set the cup down.
“Rodrick Banner doesn’t fit in tonight,” I said.
He straightened with the faintest nod, then stepped away.
I didn’t make any of them attend nights like tonight, but Callum, Vance, and Tanisha always volunteered. The others sometimes too. I think perhaps seeing this head-on, even just every few months, helped them. I don’t know if that was because they were helping me or if they needed to be reminded that this was real.
I wouldn’t complain; once drinks had been poured, secrets were easier to come by, and my arrogant party guests often didn’t notice the quiet help.
They’d delivered me some of the most useful information I’d got from these events.
While there were security cameras in this room, none were on in here. It was a requirement of hosting, and it would be certain death if I was caught skirting that one.
Rodrick Banner was one of Bella Morgan’s—the daughter-of-a-crime-boss Omega who’d almost won the bidding war for Thistle. And tonight, one of her Alphas was here. Alone.
I didn’t like it one fucking bit.
I hated her, and she never came to events I hosted directly—not that I would explicitly stop her. No matter how much I wished to, I wouldn’t risk my position by making enemies. But stepping into my home and watching me walk around unclaimed—I think it drove her mad.
I took a sip of my drink, brushing my knuckle along Thistle’s waist to ground myself. She was following my orders well, and I itched to leave with her.
After a little more time had passed, I checked my phone to see a text from Callum that read:‘Vance heard JC mention the Blackwells haven’t been seen in a while.’
My eyes flickered to John Carter, an old, ruddy-faced Senator who was deep into his wine and a conversation with a female Alpha in her fifties, Roselia Bunsen, who made millions from military contracts.
The Blackwells would have been noticed, eventually.
It had only been days since I’d killed the Pence lawyers. Their disappearance was explained by fake paper trails that would keep them away from the public eye for a while, but the ring would catch on.
Likely when the absence of their money went noticed.
But the Blackwell Pack I’d disposed of over six months ago—their silence was finally starting to draw attention—if only a little.
I was selective with those I killed.
The job I did every day was painstaking, gathering intel and sifting through it using my insider knowledge to help me find a legal lead from the other end. Information that could be used to blackmail. To send them to jail for other crimes. To give up another in the ring.
I targeted individuals and packs, taking them from the ring piece by piece where it wouldn’t draw suspicion—they were criminals, after all. A certain amount of risk was expected.
But I was building for something bigger. One at a time wasn’t enough for the creature that scored wounds across my soul with every day that passed, knowing there were still more—more I hadn’t stopped.
So much pain that had never been paid back.
That’s why, every once in a while, I dealt with them myself.
It wasn’t extravagance.
It was survival.
The warmth of blood trickling down my skin kept my eyes ahead.
Made it real.
