Page 98 of One Way Out

I squeak, but Shaw slaps a hand over my mouth from behind. It takes me several slow blinks to realize what I’m seeing.

A man in a mask and gloves stands immediately behind Samantha. I mean, I assume it’s a man, based on their height and stature. He’s got his hand plastered to her forehead, keeping her head pulled back at an awkward angle while his other hand holds a knife to her throat.

I struggle against Shaw’s hold until the man’s eyes meet mine.

Those greenish-gray cat eyes.

Omen.

“You’re alive solely because someone I love asked me not to kill you, but we know what you did, and we can get to youanywhere,” he says in that terrible excuse for an American accent. The knife barely digs into her pale skin, and a single drop of blood appears as she screeches around his gloved palm. My heart pounds as I study the terrified look on her face. I think I’m probably supposed to feel sorry for her, but all I truly feel is apathy. “If I were you, I would mind every decision I made. One wrong move, and that grace you’ve been given can be rescinded.”

Shaw drags me back down the hallway as I clutch the picture frame to my chest.

* * *

My alpha unceremoniously chucks me into the passenger seat and jogs around to the driver’s seat before climbing in and starting the vehicle.

“That was Omen,” I accuse as he pulls the vehicle around the long circle to exit the driveway.

“Was it?” Shaw shrugs. “I couldn’t tell.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “You guys are awful.”

“You said we couldn’t kill her. You never said we couldn’t torture her a little.”

“That is true,” I concede, snuggling back against the leather seat of the truck. “Do we need to wait somewhere to pick him up?”

“Nah,” Shaw says, shaking his head. “Valor and Leo will get him. They’re going to meet us at the restaurant.”

They might not have had the chance to court me before we bonded, but they’ve made up for it at every turn.

I nod, glancing out the passenger window. “Okay, good. I’m starving.”

The old me would have been hysterical after witnessing that little stunt, but the facility desensitized me to a lot of the ugly truths of the world.

Samantha deserves what she gets and more.

* * *

I lean against Valor’s chest as we all sit in a circular booth in the little Italian restaurant. The food is delicious and the atmosphere is cozy, with dim lighting.

Omen is on my other side, and he leans over, squeezing my thigh. “Now that you’ve had some nutrition, are you still mad?”

Leo stretches around Omen to get a better look at my face, and I laugh.

“I told you, I have no problem with a little torment,” I say, untangling from under Valor’s arm. “I just don’t want any of you getting arrested. So, if you feel the need to make my father and Samantha pay, maybe try some less obvious options?” I snuggle closer to my psychopathic beta. “Like making sure all four of their tires get a flat.” I snap my fingers, pointing at his chest. “Or you could put dead fish in their air vents at the house.” My nose wrinkles, imagining how horrendous the stench would be. “Maybe we could break in and rearrange all their furniture six inches to the left, so they think they’re going crazy.”

Omen grabs my hand, bringing it to his jeans. “Do you know how hard you just made me? You’re perfect for me, darling.”

Shaw snorts. “We had to sweet-talk Calder into shutting the cameras down this afternoon. We’d need to prep carefully if we plan to get back into the house.”

I shrug. “I honestly don’t want to waste any more of my life thinking about them. I say we let them rot in their misery. She and my father deserve each other.”

“Moving on to happier subjects,” Leo says, grabbing a folder from between him and Shaw. “We finally got our gold-stamped marriage license, which means we can start looking for houses.”

I nod, giving him a tight smile. “That sounds great. I just don’t want to go too overboard.”

Valor scoots closer to my back, running his hand down my back. “You are weirdly attached to the apartment.”

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