Page 19 of The Omega Trials: Part Two

I chuckle. “If I answered your questions, it wouldn’t be a surprise.”

As soon as I slide the doors open, chains begin jingling along with the sound of muffled grunts. While devilish excitement zings through me, Sinclair’s back goes rigid.

“Ecker . . . ,” she says warily as I skip across the floor to stand by her present in the middle of the shop.

I position myself next to it. “Okay, you can take the blindfold off now.” Chains clink more vigorously, and I am positivelygiddyas her hands go to remove it.1

The fabric falls away and her icy-blue eyes draw wide as confusion passes over her features, slowly morphing into realization

“Is that . . . How . . . What is this?” she stutters in disbelief as she takes in the bound and gagged man hanging from the rafter, his arms stretched above his head and his feet just barely touching the floor.

The corner of my mouth curls. “You said that if I really wanted to, it wouldn’t be hard to find out who gave you that scar. Well . . .” I walk up to her and brush a lock of hair behind her ear, letting my hand trail down to ghost across the burn on her neck. Her lips part as she looks up at me through her lashes. “I wanted to. And now, he’s yours to do with whatever you want.”

She’s silent for a moment, her face blank. There’s a flicker of fierce determination in her eyes, and then a slight but sinister smile spreads on her lips. “And what if I want to kill him?”

I match her smirk and tug her by the hips into me before wrapping my hand around the nape of her neck for a bruising, breathless kiss.

A heady mix of lust and bloodthirst tingles at my senses. I scent the man’s blood from the minor injuries he got getting here. The way it mingles with her flood of arousal from our kiss is intoxicating. Something feral and unchained pulses through our bond.

I bite her lip, giving it a tug as I pull away. When I speak, my voice is husky and thick. “Then you better make it slow and painful.”

Sinclair

“Hi, Vincent.”2

I can’t hide the sick joy in my voice at seeing my former trafficker hanging like a pig on a meat hook. He yells something from behind the dirty rag shoved in his mouth, and the garbled sound is music to my ears.

My blood rushes as I look around the old building and consider all my options. The forge fire is strong and hot. I eye the smoldering coals. It would be fitting. To burn him. Brand him.

I wonder how his screams would sound, how his burned skin would smell. Would he cry, beg for mercy? Piss himself? God, I hope so.

Horseshoes are stacked on a peg above a workbench. Next to them on the wall hangs a bridle, and my pulse jumps. I’ll treat him the way he treated me and too many others: like an animal.

I look down at my mangled finger and the ring stuck on it. I knew the moment I saw Vincent for the first time that he wouldtake everything from me if he could. I broke my own finger so there was at least one thing he couldn’t take.

It’s funny how life works that way, the world constantly trying to break you down, to take and take until you have nothing left for them to steal.

It’s so rare that someone in my position ever has the chance to be the taker.

I won’t waste it. For myself and every other woman he broke down at the Doll House who never had a chance to stand on the other side.

I grab the bridle from the wall, feeling even more vindicated when I realize the metal bit has jagged edges like a dull serrated knife.

Ecker forces Vincent’s head back so he has to look at me. My alpha has a dopey, pleased smile on his face . . . like a cat presenting his human with a dead rat.

He notices the bridle in my hands and grins wickedly.

Before he pulls out Vincent’s gag, he warns, “Say one disrespectful word to or about my mate and I’ll cut your tongue out.” Vincent’s watery eyes widen with scared acknowledgment, and Ecker adds, “Which would be quite a shame because I strive to give my omega everything she wants and without a tongue, she wouldn’t be able to use that bit she lookssoexcited to try.”

Vincent bobs his head in pathetically eager nods while the rag is removed from his mouth. Spit dribbles from the corners and he asks despondently, “What are you going to do to me?”

Despite my pounding heart and racing adrenaline, I feel nothing but peace and calm when I look into his evil eyes and offer a single promise. “Only what is fair.”

I wipe my sweaty brow with the back of my hand and exhale heavily, the hammer in my other hand hanging at the end of my limp and tired arm3. “I didn’t realize how much it would take to get a nail through a foot.”

Ecker massages my sore shoulder. “Aww, I told you I’d help ya, baby girl.”

I meet his eyes. “Just because it’s hard doesn’t mean I can’t do it.”

---