Page 93 of Filthy Royal

Her blackmailer gestured to the main door. “Bring them in.”

A battered male—with both horns torn off—was dragged into the room and dumped at her feet. She recognized him as one of the older Consortium board members who’d been reluctant to relinquish his power. Carted in next, his wings twisted and broken, was N’gal Verish, the fighter who’d worked alongside Darvish to bring down Damien, only to get greedy and threaten to tell the Brotherhood what Darvish was up to.

Both males stared up at her with terrified eyes.

“We’ll wait in the hall with your brother. Use your gift,” commanded Darvish. “Kill them.”

Scarlett pulled herself from the past as more cracks appeared in the cell wall in front of her.

But the crystal didn’t explode outward. Instead, it melted and twisted, caving in on itself as the shadows ate away at the crystal.

Thankfully, expending so much of her gift was enough to snap her back into a calmer state, the shadows slipping back inside her to rest and recharge.

But not before leaving a hole large enough for a small body to duck through in the crystal.

Unfortunately, the edges of that hole glowed white. Too hot to use without running the risk of burning her skin.

Forced to wait until it cooled, she rubbed her palms on what remained of her dress and braced herself for what would come next.

“What the fuck was that?” The kid spoke first, returning from wherever Damien had shoved him, the banged-up chair clutched in front of him like a shield. “I mean… I saw a guard fly back after he put his hands on her, but it was chaotic, and I figured I was seeing things. Now I know I wasn’t.”

Scarlett didn’t bother trying to explain.

She doubted Damien would have heard anyway. He was too busy studying her as if he’d never seen her before.

Which was kind of true.

Pain twisted inside. She’d never wanted him to know.

It was silly, but a part of her had wished to preserve who she’d been in his mind. Stay the same sweet omega he remembered with all the pleasant colors.

As if that would ensure some part of that girl still existed.

But now, even that final illusion was gone. One more secret she’d failed to keep.

She cleared her throat, her gaze locking with Damien’s. “I told you. Everything’s different now. You need to go. Before you or the kid gets hurt.”

“Did you just threaten me, Scarlett?” Damien sounded eerily calm. “After almost creaming on my cock?”

Heat prickled across her cheeks. “I just gave you the only truth I can.”

“Well, here’s mine in return. I’m not going anywhere.” He crossed his arms across his broad chest, biceps bunching; an impenetrable blockade between her and the door. “That little display changes nothing.”

What in the hells? Shouldn’t he be at least a little worried?

“Want to know what else Brock told me?” Damien stepped closer, his intoxicating scent wafting through the hole in the crystal and making her mouth water.

“No.”

“He told me Darvish visits the Golden Dome’s Consortium headquarters a few times every planetary rotation.” Damien continued talking as if he was entirely unfazed by what he’d seen her do. As if her gift wasn’t entirely different—and more dangerous—than what it had once been. “Do you know where he goes when he leaves here?”

Shocked by his reaction, she could only shake her head.

“We’ll see.” It was clear he didn’t believe her. “He also told me that each time Darvish visits, he stays for no more than five suns’ rises. The rest of the time, some guy known as the Assistant operates as the big boss’s stand-in.” He raised an eyebrow. “You know who that is?”

She pressed her lips together and remained silent.

Damien didn’t seem to care. “According to Brock, the assistant’s a real Alphahole who shuffles when he walks, has dead eyes, and is quick to solve problems with his tail and fists when the big boss isn’t around.”

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