Page 126 of Filthy Royal

Plus, having a compliant prisoner was far easier than carting around a pain-in-the-ass wild thing who argued and lied at every turn.

He should be pleased that all the back-and-forth bullshit between them was finally settled.

No more temptation. No more confusion. His shit together once more.

He’d already decided to let his brothers know about the Golden Dome shuttle containing the prizes the moment he had a comms at his disposal. He knew Dahlia, Tess, Keira, and Anya would be pissed if he didn’t. All four were actively involved in resettling the omegas he and his brothers had rescued while in pursuit of Darvish, and they’d do the same with those poor prizes. It didn’t matter to Damien that they were tainted by an alleged friendship with Scarlett. The females he’d heard screaming to be free would never see the inside of an outer-rim brothel, not if he had any say in it.

But his immediate focus was the mission.

Only a few more turns, and they’d be in front of Consortium headquarters.

He was ready.

For Zaya. For his family.

The sound of boot falls echoed along the tunnel.

Scarlett stiffened and then struggled in earnest.

“Don’t get your hopes up.” Damien hustled a little faster toward the oncoming footsteps, his shoulders brushing the walls before the passage opened into a wider section.

He’d not only reacquainted himself with the flow of the tunnels but also with a few of the more useful hiding spots—and while Maxheim’s cloak would do in a pinch, he preferred a space where he wouldn’t have to worry about his captive’s wiggling undercutting the cloak’s abilities and spoiling his plans.

Damien crouched and wrapped the fingers of his free hand through the old stone bars to slide aside a grate between the ground and the wall, widening it just enough for his shoulders to fit through what had once been a dumping point into the old city sewers below.

“We’ll go one at a time.” He tossed his go-bag in first.

Scarlett shook her head.

He put her down anyway. Then forced her to her knees. “These sewers dried up long ago.” After lowering himself halfway into the space, boots first, he caught her by the taming chain at her hips—she’d been in the process of trying to crawl away—and reeled her back to him.

She growled.

Damien suppressed a smile. While he might be furious at her earlier words, some fucked-up part of him would still take her anger over indifference any rotation.

He tugged harder, and the shirt he’d put her in rode up her thighs, gifting him with a flash of her perfect ass and making his dick go hard.

So much for no more temptation. No more confusion.

They dropped together, his feet hitting the ground, his arm wrapped around her, her back pressed to his chest. He pretended not to notice how his need to protect her was as instinctive as breathing.

Or the way she held herself stiffly—as if touching him revolted her.

The old sewer wasn’t deep, leaving him with a clear sight line of the tunnel above. Nor was it roomy; his knees bent, his body curled around hers to fit into the space.

With one hand still holding her securely, he slid the grate back over the opening.

Just in time.

He slapped his hand over her mouth. Even with the gag, it paid to be careful.

“This way.” The shout rang down the tunnel.

Damien’s fangs punched through his gums before he could stop them, every muscle tensing to attack.

Scarlett stilled as well.

He recognized this new voice.

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