Page 16 of Fallen Omega

We’re the Unholy Trinity and we rule the world outside of society, outside of the Council.

“Don’t make me make you talk, Reap,” I say. “It’s tiresome.”

He utters a small, low growl, and this time I smile. “She’s clean.”

There’s something in the way he says it that catches my attention. I keep my gaze on the girl which isn’t hard. Or maybe it’s too fucking hard.

Just watching the creature, I have the overwhelming urge to rut. That’s what makes it difficult to be aroundher.

“How?” I ask.

He was given the name Reaper because between us three, he is the most likely to bring death. Of course I know his real name, and he knows mine and Knight’s, but the three of us shed our old selves decades ago. We have been reborn as the monsters we are today.

Deadly. Cruel. Powerful.

Reap and I go back years. To times I’d prefer not to remember. Times I refuse to forget. I like to keep those times, the lessons learned, right at the edges.

“I followed her to the Hollows,” he grumbles out.

“Did you search her place?” It’s too much of a coincidence.

He hands me a photo. The wind’s knocked from me as I stare. “Elias Enver?”

Reaper nods.

I can’t look away. I haven’t thought of this man in twenty years.

Oh. Shit. My hand jerks. “That baby?”

“The name on the mail is Roth. First name?—”

“I’m not interested.” Even if I was, the moment I find out why she walked in here and if she’s a part of something to trap us, her ass is out the door. “Does she live alone?”

“No one else was there.”

Maybe this girl is the baby, maybe not. The man who saved both our asses when we were young might be her father, but it doesn’t change shit. Just haven’t thought about him in forever.

“You think he went back into the fold?” I ask, downing my drink.

Reaper’s frown is almost not there and yet it radiates, enough so that the waitress we hired a few weeks earlier, one who wants desperately to bang him, pivots in her path to us and heads to the back of the room.

I make a note to find a place at one of our other establishments for her. Someplace more reputable, I decide, because she lacks the fortitude of a real Trinity girl. She’s just abeta, one who’ll end up moving on in a few years, and she’ll be doing so without a taste of any of us.

Darcy glances at me from where she leans against a wall, chatting up a patron in preparation for a Darcy shakedown. But I don’t need her, not yet. I glance in the other waitress’s direction and her expression says everything.

Darcy, with her razor cut blond hair andtouch me if you want to dieair, looks slightly smug, like she knows the other girl doesn’t fit this particular Trinity establishment.

“No,” Reap finally says. “Not Elias. He was like us.”

Was. He thinks the man’s dead.

“So, she’s gone to them?” I ask, rubbing a hand over my unshaven chin.

The girl takes off her hat and slides it into her bag. Not on the bar, but in the bag, like it matters. And I wish she’d left the thing on. Her glow’s brighter, more compelling now.

Reaper shifts. “No.”

“No, you don’t think so, or no, you know?”

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