The man with the scar turned his gun on the tattoo man. I’m guessing the latter couldn’t be trusted because he actually d.
I’m not sure what my father did exactly or tried to do that upset Vincent so much. My father kept the “business” to himself, and I was taught from a young age not to ask too many questions. Did my father ever have anyone killed? Did he have blood on his hands like Vincent? Even if he did, why did Vincent have to kill the whole family—innocent women and children?
Because Vincent is beyond cruel. He proved it then, he’s proving it now. He needs to be taken down.
But what if I break? I’m confident I can last a week, a month, maybe even a year. But decades? Vincent has already shown himself to be adept at pushing my buttons. His mindfuckery is next level. And from what I’ve seen and heard, Vincent is not only capable, he’s patient, cool and collected.
Except when I told him my name was Irene Lazzarelli. That really triggered him. The Irene part, I think. It was like he suddenly saw a ghost. But when Brady and I were doing our research on Vincent, we never came across anyone named Irene. His mother was named Huang Mei He and died young. Vincent never married or had kids from what we could tell. He doesn’t seem to have had any steady girlfriends either, though there are women he sleeps with. I suppose he’s been too focused on building up the Black Dragon to be one of the most successful criminal organizations on the planet to maintain a relationship. And I doubt the man is capable of love.
“Sleep well, pet,” Vincent says before he leaves. “You have a lot to look forward to.”
I don’t move. The area between my legs is sticky with cum. Mine and his. His seed is swimming inside me, making me wish I could carve out my vagina.
“I’ll stay with the boss,” Jack says to the taller of the bodyguards. “You go to the kitchen.”
After I hear the door to the dungeon close behind Vincent and Jack, leaving me alone with Vlad, I manage to sit up. I want the bottle of water next to my cage. It’s a glass bottle, suggesting the water inside might be the expensive kind.
“I’ll get it for you,” my second least-favorite person on earth says in a gruff voice.
His disgusting cum is inside me, too. From the look in his eyes and the bulge at his crotch, he wants another go at me. Vincent didn’t give him permission, though, and for all Vlad’s big dick energy, he doesn’t have the guts to disobey his boss. Vincent would have him for breakfast.
But instead of reaching for the bottle, Vlad knocks it over with his shoe. In dismay, I watch the beautiful liquid spill from the bottle.
“Ooops,” Vlad says with a smirk.
I reach through the cage for the bottle—it has a little bit of water left—but it’s just beyond my fingertips.
“Vincent’s gonna rip you a new one,” I threaten. “He said I could have the water.”
“It was an accident,” Vlad says. “You going to tell on me or something?”
I would, but I doubt Vincent cares that his bodyguard is messing with me. I’m no favorite of Vlad’s because I kicked him in the balls earlier. He could make my life a lot more miserable than I could make his.
With another smirk, Vlad turns and walks away. After he leaves, I sit in the dark by myself. Doubts tickle my conscience, but I push back. That’s exactly what Vincent wants. But I’m not going to let emotions like regret and despair triumph. That’s a win I sure as hell don’t want to give Vincent. I came into this prepared to die, knowing the odds weren’t great. I was willing to take the chance because Vincent wasn’t going to get what he deserved otherwise. Yes, I’m paying the price for my failure, but I’m not ready to abandon hope yet.
As if the universe heard me, the light comes on and a handsome young man just a few years older than me walks in carrying a tray with slices of bread and a bottle of water.
My eyes light up. It’s Brady!
He shares my goal of killing Vincent. Brady lost his fiancée, who committed suicide after submitting herself to Vincent. In the normal world of betas, it would’ve been rape. But she was an omega like me, so it’s hard to prove there wasn’t any consent when her body wanted it. Brady’s convinced Vincent took advantage of his fiancée being in heat.
Remembering that there are video cameras, I pretend it’s not the familiar face that I’m excited about.
“Please, please can I have that food and water?” I beg.
“Shit, what have they done to you?” asks Brady as he approaches my cage, his almond-shaped eyes filled with concern.
I turn to stone while I eye one of the video cameras without trying to be too obvious about it.
Brady pulls out a small electronic device from his pocket and explains, “This device jams the nearest video cameras, but we should keep it quiet. There are two guys guarding the door outside.”
I eagerly grab the water bottle he passes through the bars. I gulp down the water, then scarf down the bread. Food never tasted so divine. Even though I had wanted to die just a few minutes ago, starving myself will take too long. And the sight of Brady rejuvenates me.
“I’ll find a way to get you out,” Brady says. “Till a few minutes ago, when I heard Vlad telling the kitchen to send food down here, I honestly thought you were at the bottom of the sea.”
“Don’t worry about me,” I tell him with a mouthful of bread. “Just do what I couldn’t—kill Vincent. He knows I’m working with someone on the inside. He wants your name.”
Brady’s cousin, who handles payroll for the Black Dragon, made this possible by getting Brady a job. Brady then helped me. I believe fate brought me and Brady together so that we could help realize our mutual goal.