Page 69 of Filthy Royal

She’d thought she’d known who their enemies were. Assumed she’d grasped the extent of the dangers she and Damien had to overcome: Egan. The Consortium. Damien’s aggression.

She hadn’t had a clue.

She’d never understood the extent of the threat they faced, or the depravity of those lurking in the shadows, and now it was too late.

“Come, Scarlett. It’s time for a prize to be transformed into a prime omega and for you to enter into a contract with Kadon Stormhart, the tournament winner.” The Alpha beckoned her away from the window, a smug look on his face.

Egan might be gone, but she was far from free.

“Do as you’re told from now on,” continued the Alpha, “and you and those you care about will live to see another rotation. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Alpha Lord.”

“Good.”

She fixed a tight smile on her face and followed him. Pretending. Just as she always had.

However, now she had a new goal, a new reason for being. And it wasn’t to escape. It wasn’t even to find a way to flee and beg Damien’s forgiveness.

That future was no longer possible for her now.

But somehow, some rotation, she’d make things right. In the meantime, she’d do her best to keep those she loved safe.

Because that’s what a true hero did. Damien had shown her that.

And she would love him with every part of her filthy, broken soul forever, no matter what the future held.

FILTHY ROYAL: A DARK FATED-MATES ROMANCE

1

DAMIEN

Four planetary rotations after the prequel

“Trust me, kid. It’s a solid idea.” With his hood pulled low, Damien shouldered through the frenzied crush, pushing and shoving along with the rest of the crowd. The stench of sweat, bloodlust, drink, desperation, and over-fried meat lay thick in the air.

A howl of pain echoed above the spectators’ screams. An omega shrieked. Three Alphas stomped their boots and hollered for ale.

“Really?” Intent on keeping up, Maddox elbowed aside a wild-eyed blob of an Alpha clutching betting chips in two of his three tentacles, then dodged a scuffle. “’Cause I have a pretty clear memory of your brothers droning on about us being subtle and making no waves.”

“They’re your brothers too.” Damien’s correction was automatic, as his focus was on the luxury box perched high above,and the guarded doors below that provided access to the upper stadium areas.

“Right.” Maddox snarked back. “But more yours.”

Beneath his hood and cloak, the kid had the Skolov black hair, dark red skin, and uncanny ability to be a disrespectful pain in the ass. But he’d also inherited their stubbornness—and since his return home, he hadn’t settled in as well as Damien had hoped.

But he would.

Even if Damien had to knock acceptance into the stubborn, oversized brat with his bare hands. In a loving, brotherly way, of course.

The crack of bones—caught by the sound amplifiers in the cage—echoed through the stadium as the crowd grew more frenzied.

Blood splattered across the first three rows of spectators. Something shiny and white flew past.

Damien ducked just in time.

Maddox caught it—then chucked it deeper into the crowd. “Fuck me, that was a fang.” He shuddered.

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