Page 10 of Pack Obsession

I hadn’t seen him for six months, and I assumed that meant he finally got over me. I breathe heavily.

My fingers unconsciously brush over the scars on my inner arm, each one a tally mark of him teaching me a lesson, him getting off on seeing me suffer. Of lessons learned in blood and tears. The night I finally told him it was over, he’d promised to bring me back to him and teach me what happens to disobedient Omegas who think they can escape their destiny.

I’m going to be sick.

I don’t hear a lot of what they’re saying now as my heart’s racing.

"Fucker wanted to know why we haven’t delivered his Omega," the serious Alpha mutters with a sound of disgust behind his words.

I hug my middle. Julian knows where I live… and this Alpha told him he doesn’t have me yet, which is a saving grace. But why would he do that? What does he want from me?

I inch away, scared out of my mind that they’ll hand me over soon enough. I feel cornered, unsure where to go next.

Julian’s a monster who gets off on destroying Omegas, on teaching them their place through careful, calculated cruelty.

I need to get out. Now. Find my friends if they’re still free and get as far away as possible. Maybe this time to Hawaii—he’ll never think to look for me there. Maybe.

A floorboard creaks behind me.

In the split second before I turn, I know. Just like prey always knows when the predator is near. But when I spin around, my heart still forgets how to beat.

One of my captors fills the hallway, the one whose scent wrapped around me in the woods like wild blackberries and ocean breeze. The one with a playful but deep voice. Up close, without the balaclava, he’s even more intimidating. Six-four at least, with pitch-black hair falling across one eye and a scar through his eyebrow that somehow makes him even more dangerous. His ice-blue gaze rakes over me, carrying something that might be anger or might be amusement. In the dim hallway light, they seem to glow with predatory intensity.

"Going somewhere, little Omega?"

My heart thunders against my ribs, but I manage to lift my chin. Running isn’t an option. He’s blocking the only escape route, his broad shoulders filling the space.

"Just testing your security system. I’d give it a C-minus," I state with bravery I don’t feel, but I’ve never been one to back down.

His lips twitch, and for a moment, I think I see approval in those cold eyes. Then he takes a step forward, and every instinct I have screams danger. But underneath that warning is a stupid desire to lean closer instead of running away.

"Brave little thing, aren’t you?" he murmurs, that dark tone wrapping around me. He moves closer until I can feel the heatradiating from his body, which makes my head spin. "But we both know how this chase ends if you insist on running."

Chapter

Four

CASEY

"Time to join the party downstairs." The Alpha’s words rumble behind me, so close, I feel the heat radiating from his body. I fight the urge to step away or, worse, lean back. What is wrong with me? Stockholm syndrome setting in already?

"You know," I say as his fingers wrap around my upper arm, firm but not painful, nothing like Julian’s bruising grip. "If you wanted to hang out, you could have just asked me for coffee."

A low chuckle, and damn if that sound doesn’t tickle me deep inside. "Somehow, I doubt you would have accepted."

"You’ll never know now, will you?" I try for breezy, but my voice catches as we move down the stairs. They curve down into what has to be the most luxurious great room I’ve ever seen.

"Careful," he murmurs when I hesitate, his other hand coming to rest on the small of my back. "Steps are steep."

"Thanks for the safety tip, kidnapper extraordinaire." But I let him guide me down, very aware of how his massive frame towers over me. If I slipped, he could catch me before I fell. Or let me tumble to my death. Fun choices.

The room that opens up below us belongs in a luxury real estate magazine. Exposed wooden beams cross a cathedralceiling while a wall of windows showcases the forest beyond in the late afternoon sun. A massive stone fireplace dominates one wall, flanked by built-in bookshelves filled with what look like first editions. The furniture is all rich leather and sleek lines—definitely not your standard criminal hideout decor.

An open chef’s kitchen gleams to the right, all stainless steel and granite, while the dining area features a table that could seat eight. Everything speaks of money, but not the gaudy flash Julian favors. This is old money, refined taste.

"Sit." He guides me to an oversized armchair by the fireplace.

The other two Alphas arrange themselves on the couch across from me. Not looming over me, not trying to intimidate. Interesting. Even Julian, who played at being civilized, always positioned himself to assert dominance.

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