Page 5 of Drowned By the Dreadnought

She sobs and punches my lower back. I hiss and cup the back of her leg. The hem of her shorts rides up. I tease my fingertips under the material. She digs her nails into my flesh and goes statue still.

I reach the top of the stairs and ignore her attempts to stifle her growing sobs, my anger building as she sheds tears for her trash father and his trashier friends.

The stench of death punches into my nostrils as I step into his den. A pool of blood surrounds his legs on the other side of the kitchen doorway.

Nostalgia tries to worm its way into my heart as I stalk across the home that hosted so many beautiful moments of my youth, but the space looks nothing like it used to.

The furniture seems decades older instead of just a few years. Only one light works in the living room. Every trace of a woman’s touch is gone. No pictures on the walls. No books on the side table. No rug on the floor. No pillows on the couch.

It seems the rumors about the omega over my shoulder are true: she’s truly broken. No female of the brotherhood would allow the alpha of the house, whether he be their mate, father, or sibling, to live in such squalor. I stop in the doorway to the kitchen.

Battered cooking utensils and pots lie scattered about the floor while the counter shines in the dull light. A bucket balances halfway in the sink. Filthy water drips from the rim, causing ripples in the crimson puddle on the floor.

My damp chin reminds me of Morwenna’s wet hair.

She trembles and digs her nails deeper into my back.

Sprawled on his side with holes in his forearm, side, temple, and throat, Ricky stares up at us with lifeless eyes. A drawer handle sticks out of his clenched fist.

“He’s dead. I killed him,” Morwenna whispers against my back.

Emotions war within me. For a moment, concern slips through my defenses, but she was always good at using her sweetness to manipulate those around her, so I focus on the guilt in her tone and lean into my fury.

She has no right to mourn him. His death was too quick. Too clean. Too easy.

“You’ll pay for that, little mouse,” I snarl.

“No, I didn’t mean—”

I slap her ass and spin on my heel.

“You owe me a debt you can never repay, Morwenna, so I suggest you keep that pretty mouth shut until I tell you to open it. Unless you’d like an audience? We can stop on the main deck,” I taunt as I walk down the hallway.

She shakes her head and sobs through clenched teeth. I clear the stairs and traverse through the muck toward the rear of the ship. My boots squish with every step until I lunge over the railing and balance across the uppermost beam connecting the vessels. My little mouse squeaks and wraps her arms around me as the waves crash far below us. The top of her head bops against the upper slope of my ass with every step.

I loosen my grip on her legs just to enjoy her squeal of alarm and the clutching of her hands as she grapples for a better grip.

She doesn’t relax when I step onto the next craft. The smallest vessel in the conglomerate, and too damaged to float on its own, the shell of a once magnificent ship holds the most dangerous areas of the entire city. No alpha worth his weight would waste his strength or resources to settle here, but power-hungry betas and people too tweaked out to control themselves lurk in the shadows.

I join them for a few minutes, stomping through the rusty maze long enough to lose any potential tails before heading toward the ship on the other side. My little mouse never loosens her grip. She shivers every time a psychotic scream or maniacal laugh bounces off the walls.

I smile as a commotion grows behind us, the general population reacting to my omega’s lingering scent.

She’s close to her first heat, but her pheromones carry a note of incompleteness. I can’t wait to lock her in my den and wash away the stink to enjoy her scent without distractions. When I realize a gentleness creeps into my soul, I snarl and focus on the smell of her father’s blood wafting from her clothes. This female isn’t the girl of my dreams anymore. She’s the mastermind behind my demise and the reason I lost my parents.

I climb the hull of the next ship, using the holes caused by rust, grab the railing with one hand, and vault over the top to land feet first on the deck. Three beta guards shout and rush toward me. I pull three sacks out of my pocket and toss them at their chests. They catch them and return to their posts as I walk across the deck to the opposite railing.

I take the rickety, rust eaten steps on the outside of the hull and enjoy the tightening of Morwenna’s arms around me. Her hair whips around in the wind as it dries, tapping at the back of my knees and the sides of my thighs, but the clothes between us remain obnoxiously wet.

I jump from the staircase, clear the space between the vessels, and skirt along the narrow ledge around the aft of my ship. My tiny mouse’s delicate fingers dig into my abdominals as she secures her hold on me. I kick the hidden hatch with the toes of my boots in the day’s designated pattern.

The guard on the inside swings it open and checks my face before shuffling back and giving me space to squeeze through. I reward him with a nod before heading down the hall.

As the door shuts out the sound of the wind and waves, the gentle hum of electricity flowing through the lights and the distant rush of water running through pipes become the loudest sounds.

I take my time weaving through the maze of halls, building her apprehension and giving her a quick tour of my accomplishments, but when I start up the stairs toward the main gathering area, the tension drains from her body. She never releases her hold on my torso, but her legs go so lax the toes of her slippers bop against me with every step.

A small sound escapes from her throat. I can’t decipher what it means.

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