Page 132 of Filthy Royal

Given Damien’s refusal to help her omega friends and the ease with which he’d threatened her brother, she should be done protecting Damien from what he’d discover.

She wasn’t.

Truth was, she wasn’t sure she’d ever rid herself of the impulse to watch out for him.

But Damien had left her with no choice but to find out. He was headed up to Darvish’s private suite and was taking her with him, and if she wanted to see her plan through, she had to risk exactly what she’d been trying to avoid for so long: exposure.

“This place is insane.” Damien shifted, and suddenly she was on her feet, all the blood rushing south. He kept hold of her so she wouldn’t topple over, his somber gaze sweeping her body before locking onto her eyes. “You good?”

No, she wasn’t.

Her stomach contracted at the thought of all he might learn once they reached the top floor.

Furthermore, she didn’t like the almost gentle way he’d handled her since their almost run-in with her brother and Kadon.

It made those jagged, shattered pieces inside her cut deeper.

It also made her wish anew that she could have reached out to Damien sometime over the past four planetary rotations and maybe prevented them from being where they were now.

Her employer, however, had made that impossible. Darvish had monitored all communications and activities, even while she slept. She’d lived as a prisoner, well aware that if she was caught reaching out to Damien, Darvish’s vengeance would be swift and brutal—and directed at someone she loved.

But none of that mattered now. There was no point in wondering what might have been if she’d managed to get word to him, if all the ugliness of the past four planetary rotations had never happened. It had occurred, and those secrets wouldn’t remain buried for much longer.

So, no, she wasn’t good, and she never would be.

But since the damned gag was still in place, Scarlett simply nodded in answer to his question.

Then, because she’d learned to stand on her own two feet long ago, she pulled away and steadied herself.

Damien’s scowl deepened.

She took the opportunity to restudy the lobby.

When remodeling the space four planetary rotations before, Darvish had wanted it to inspire shock and awe. Massive gold panels depicting historic cage fights swept five stories upward toward a central floating chandelier that was almost as wide as a small planet, each crystal so shiny that it dazzled the eye and reflected the surroundings over and over, making arriving guests feel as if they were under a giant microscope.

Which was accurate. Since the recorders concealed high in the ceiling were constantly operating, picking up every innocuous exchange, plus many that were not so innocent.

Unless you had a next-level cloak that obscured your form.

“Let’s do this.” Beneath their covering, Damien pressed something on his wrist.

Nothing happened. Not even a beep.

Scarlett both feared and hoped the equipment had failed, and whatever he’d wanted to do was a bust.

But then he gave a satisfied grunt. “Another win for Maxheim.”

He didn’t bother to explain. Instead, he scanned the area once more to ensure no guards were nearby.

“Your turn.” Damien spun her to face the elevator, one hand heavy on her shoulder. Warm, rough skin brushed against her throat, followed by thesnickof the cuffs releasing.

He’d freed her hands from the taming collar.

Unfortunately, his palm encircled her right wrist in the next heartbeat. “Now’s not the time to screw with me, Omega.”

Funny, he’d once wanted to screw her more than anything.

“Omega…”

---