Page 36 of Sweet Torment

“You’re disgusting.”

Alexander laughs, a cold, dead sound. “You think you’re different because you killed a few women? Because you lasted in the woods?” He looks me up and down with open contempt. “They wanted someone spirited. A challenge. In the end, the outcome is a guarantee.”

“Go to hell.” My voice is raw.

“No, omega, that’s where you’re going. My son is an investment. They all are. And you’ve disrupted years of careful planning.” He crowds me again. “But don’t worry about them. When the pack is done with you, when you’re exposed for what you are and the boys can’t look at you the same way, we’ll have a proper replacement ready.”

“Replacement?”

“We’re already interviewing beautiful omegas from families like ours. Good breeding. Manners. Untouched.” He spits out the last word like it’s a virtue.

He’s trying to rattle you.

“The best part is that your time on the preserve will be recorded. We’ll be able to show the boys exactly what you are when they’re not around.”

The thought of that makes my skin crawl. Them watching me, seeing⁠—

“When they see you moaning for another alpha’s knot, begging for it, taking it so eagerly…” Alexander shakes his head, almost sad. “I can’t deny they care for you, Ms. Quinn, but alphas aren’t very forgiving. By the time your observation period is complete, I expect you’ll be... well-used. But I’m sure you’ll be fine.” He says it like it amuses him. “You’re a fighter, after all.”

Something snaps. My hand moves before I can think. I slap him. The crack of it is loud in the elevator’s hush.

For a perfect second, shock splinters his face. Red blooms across his cheek.

Then the collar hits.

My teeth slam together. Every muscle locks, a single, screaming knot of fire. The world shrinks to the electricity burning through me, all thought gone.

When it ends, I’m a heap on the floor, gasping, spit pooling on the cold metal. My fingers twitch uncontrollably.

“Feral little bitch.” Alexander rubs his cheek, and now he’s really smiling. “No control. No discipline.”

The guards yank me up. My legs barely work.

“You’ll learn who’s in charge,” he promises as the elevator doors open and sunlight floods the space.

The helicopter is on the pad, rotors thrumming. Three older men stand beside it, waving at Alexander like old friends at a golf club. The guards half-carry me toward them, my feet dragging, muscles still trembling with aftershocks.

“Enjoy your trip,” Alexander calls out, his voice smug over the roar. I don’t give him the satisfaction of looking back.

They throw me into a seat and strap my wrists together. The gown hikes up my thighs, but I can’t fix it.

The three alphas climb in. Tristan’s father stays outside, watching through the glass, that thin-lipped smile never fading.

He thinks this is the end of me.

As the helicopter lifts, his words brew. The picture he painted is a nightmare. What if he’s right?

No. I can’t go there.

I shut my eyes and count my breaths.

I’ve survived so much. I can survive this.

Right?

“You should sleep,” one of them says without glancing at me. “You’ll need your energy.”

I think about telling him to fuck off but just close my eyes instead. I don’t sleep. I don’t trust any of these men enough for that.