Page 110 of Fallen Omega

“You and I both know this is my pack, Angel. I share the power, yes. I chose wisely.” This time. “But when it comes down to the line, my word is the one with the most clout.”

She puffs out a breath, gaze sliding to me, dark eyes a wild storm, but then she nods. “How am I going to be a valued member of this pack if I don’t help? Isn’t that what you’re doing?”

No. What I’m doing is fucking torture, that’s what I’m doing. Telling her how to move, to get as much money in tips without compromising herself, how to bend—walk?—

“You’re a guest. Not a trialing pack member.”

“Dante, I…what am I going to do out there? After I stop being a guest? There are people after me. If I run, it’ll be fine for a while, but when I go into heat? When I run out of drugs?”

She can’t stay with us permanently. It’ll be too chaotic. And she’s such a fucking trouble magnet. The visit from the Council told me that. Fuck, the way they danced around, dragged it out. That woman, Susan, was hoping for a glimpse of her, an excuse to poke deeper.

Pity, I’ve got some of the best and dirtiest lawyers. Two of which are pack members. They don’t interact with us too much in public, but they’re loyal beyond a money bond.

Last night, Reaper told me he took someone out who was poking into things and asking questions about a girl who could only be the one trying not to glare at me.

Turn her loose and she’s in their clutches. Keep her and we court more and more trouble.

But I put that aside. Consider her.

“Not my problem.”

“Yes, it is. You took me.”

“Saved you. And if you want to be a member of our criminal pack, then maybe start doing what I fucking say and stop wiggling your ass.” I stop, take a breath. “Okay, let’s start again. I’m one of your patrons, had a little too much to drink.”

I haven’t forgotten rule number one, but I’m biding time, especially because she’ll have to deal with patrons up there.

I’m not sure I want her that exposed.

That seen.

I leer at her and raise my coffee cup. “I’m also handsy…so, how do you deal?”

“Well—”

This time I stare at her tits and the sweet cleavage that way too much on display. “No. Show me. Action time, Angel. Action.”

Later that evening, after Knight’s peptalk that honestly made me want to hit him up the side of the head—what the fuck is it about Lizette that makes a wild freak like Knight so fucking gooey like some kind of lovelorn teen? —I leave him to the first shift.

It’s on my damned feed on my tablet.

He’s got first shift because it’s quiet, and I prefer being up here on the public floor where the early deals with the Unholy Trinity are done. I can also keep an eye on the fucking people in here.

I flicker a glance at Julien who’s off to the side, watching, waiting. And he comes over.

“Dante?”

“That troublemaker who owes?”

A muscle works in his jaw. He knows who I’m talking about. A gambler who keeps promising payback but keepsgoing over. He’s not affiliated here, but he is at our gambling club in the bowels of the Hollows.

“Not paid?” he asks.

“Owes nearly seven hundred thousand as of this afternoon and hasn’t paid back a dime, not since the first time we rolled him.”

“The guy should be good for it. Rich as fuck.” Julien’s eyes narrow, and he rubs a tattooed hand over his big, broad chest.

I lean back. “Rich as fuck is usually just polite speak for douchebag.”

---