Page 178 of Broken Dreams

“Bret, I think you need a lesson in humility,” Kane purrs. “Your dick is harder than a priest in a whore house and there’s extra flammable wax covering both your knot and shaft. Do you really want to fuck with the omega who is going to do the honors of lighting it?”

“What?” Bret asks dully.

Kane pulls on a pair of black leather gloves just as the rest of our group steps into the room. I can hear a girl screaming further away from us, making me realize that Riley is showing us her damn lungs still work. Maybe I should just snap the stupid beta’s neck and call it a day.

“Did you think I was giving your dick a paraffin treatment?” Kane asks with a grin. I can’t help the sneering smile that pulls at my lips. Who knows? Maybe Bret did think that Kane was playing with his dick. “Hold still, I need to make some room for the wick, douchebag.”

Kane crushes Bret’s knot and base of his cock in his large hand so he’ll stay still before shoving a thin stainless steel tube down through the slit. The answering scream makes a few of us roll our eyes, while Quinn gazes at him in anger.

A bit of blood spurts out of the tube as Kane “makes room” for the wick he feeds through the hollow rod. Then when he pulls the rod out to remove it, the psychotic alpha squishes the crown of Bret’s dick so the wick will stay in place. It’s devious, ingenious, and must have taken hours of hyperfixation for him to come up with.

Kane Dresmond’s mind is a scary fucking place.

He makes sure there’s a lot of wick sticking out the top as he steps back, beginning to hum as Bret screams.

“Such a baby,” Quinn mutters. She’s very calm in the face of torture. It’s more like she’s resigned to having to get his attention.

“Why don’t you soften him up?” I suggest, picking up a knife and a bat from the table beside me. “Pick your poison, Sweet Girl.”

Maybe I shouldn’t be using cute pet names right now, but I’m also the person who enjoys milkshakes when I’m on missions and rock music in my kill rooms. Fuck the rules.

As long as shit gets done, who cares?

Lifting the bat, she nods. Kane moves out of the way as he watches her, saying, “Avoid his dick, Quinn.”

“I couldn’t imagine ruining your hard work,” she says, earning a grin from him.

Quinn slams the bat into Bret’s injured side, and then continues to hit him until her ancestors tell her she’s done. He’s choking on the blood from a broken nose, but he’s still relatively alive, unfortunately.

“Now, shut the fuck up until you have my permission to speak,” she growls. Goddamn that’s hot.

Bret appears bug-eyed as he gazes at the omega he’s terrorized simply because he believed he had power over her. Funny how the tables have turned.

“I have some very important questions to ask you,” Quinn says, handing off the bat to Callum’s waiting hands. “Where is Slick Dreams located now?”

She’s not wasting any time, and I appreciate that. Quinn doesn’t play with her food. She knows there are people still being forced to perform and fuck to line Bret’s pockets.

Not that he’ll be able to enjoy that money for much longer.

“Fuck you,” he snarls.

Kane begins to play with a lighter, quietly glaring at Bret. It makes him begin to gasp for breath, almost hyperventilating. The only good thing is that the fucker can’t take a piss anymore because Kane ruined his urethra with his deliberate use of the steel rod.

“Have a spare lighter?” Quinn asks Kane. Somehow, she seems to recognize that the lighter he has in his hand is important to him. Nodding, Kane pulls out another lighter for her.

“Speak or forever hold your peace,” Callum says. “She’s not going to hold any mercy for you.”

“No, no wait. They’ve been moving around,” Bret lies. I can tell because his scent sours, like that of days old body odor. “I doubt they’re still where I left them. I left someone to stand on business for me.”

“Her question remains,” I remind him as she flicks the lighter a bit closer to the wick. “I’ve never actually seen someone’s dick get lit on fire. How does it feel to know that you’re about to be a dick candle?”

“Wait! Fuck!” he screams, sounding as if he’s sucked on a helium balloon.

Fucking waste of space.

“What would you like to say?” Quinn asks, flicking the lighter at opposite times as Kane. I have to admit, it’s really annoying, and getting on Bret's nerves.

“They’re in a warehouse in Cedar Rapids,” he gasps.

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