Page 37 of Sweet Torment

Alexander Barrett is wrong. I will not break. I will never beg.

I keep telling myself that because the alternative is unthinkable.

The helicopter ride is both too long and not nearly long enough. I learn their last name is Haversham. They have three sons, and their fathers are friends with my alphas’ fathers. They talk about an overseas hunting trip, golf scores, and stock portfolios.

I learn their sons’ names are Nathaniel, Carter, and Maverick.

By the time the preserve appears, the sun is setting, smearing the sky with gold and red. The land sprawls below—thick trees, shifting elevations, a river cutting through it all.

The reality of what’s coming hits me.

The lodge on the property is a monster of wood and glass. The helicopter pad glows below. A target.

The men drop me with a guard, and the helicopter vanishes.

The lodge interior is a taxidermy museum. Bears, teeth bared mid-roar. Elk antlers arch overhead, casting shadows. A mountain lion is caught mid-leap.

A guard marches me upstairs to an enormous room. A four-poster bed, windows filled with endless forest. On the bed, an outfit: black pants, a fitted tank, a jacket, boots. Just like my refuge gear, only nicer brands.

In the shower, the hot water stings my cuts and bruises. The mirror throws the truth back at me… I look like I’ve already lost.

The outfit fits perfectly. Montgomery must have 3D-scanned me in my sleep.

I leave my hair braided.

The lodge manager who knocks softly at my door and collects me for dinner is silent, leading me through a new hallway lined with oil paintings of victorious men and their kills. We go down a staircase wide enough for a car to fit and step into a dining room that screams money and masculinity.

Two men sit at the far end of a long table, watching me approach. A third is leaned back in his chair, a smug look on his face. My eyes follow his gaze down.

A woman in a staff uniform is on her knees between his legs. Her dark hair hides her face, but not what she’s doing. The wet, obscene sounds fill the room as her head bobs between his thighs. His fingers are tangled in her hair, controlling her pace.

He notices me. Instead of stopping, his lips curl up and his eyes lock with mine as he pushes her head down harder.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, loud enough for me to hear. “Take it deeper.”

The woman chokes but obeys. I force myself not to look away. I will not show weakness.

“Carter,” one of the men at the table says with mild annoyance, “we have company.”

Carter laughs. “She can wait. I’m almost finished.” His breathing gets heavier as he watches my reaction.

It’s a power play. Obvious and pathetic. When he’s done, he lazily pushes the woman’s head away, and she scurries from the room.

I take a seat as far from them as possible.

“Bianca.” The one in the middle speaks. Handsome, early thirties, dark eyes. He’s the leader. “I’m Nathaniel. These are my brothers.”

He’s probably the oldest then.

“Carter.” The one from before licks his lips. Movie-star looks. He’s probably never heard the word no.

“Mav.” The one on the right doesn’t smile. He’s bigger than the others, shoulders straining his shirt, eyes cold.

It’s weird, but I can’t smell them. No alpha scent at all. This room must have some kind of industrial scent scrubber.

“You’re attractive,” I say, the words sharp. “You obviously have money. Can’t you get a woman on your own without your daddies paying for one? Your personalities must be complete shit.”

They scoff.