Page 67 of The Mafia's Omega Queen

Those words knock me out of my musing, and a growl rips from my throat. I struggle against the bindings holding me down, the ropes tying my wrists together cutting into my skin. That bitch better stop talking about my alpha. He’s mine. MINE.

“Goddammit, Bianca. Stop fucking riling her up. The angrier she is, the longer it’ll take for her heat to hit.” He pins her with a hard stare, and she swallows audibly. “Get the fuck out.”

“But Daddy—”

“Now!” Lionel thunders, grabbing her arm and wrenching her out of view.

Lionel is fucking delusional if he thinks at any time my anger will lessen. These motherfuckers kidnapped me, and they seem to think I’m going to be happy about it. They don’t know me that well, obviously.

A door slams in the distance, cutting off their voices, and silence once again descends on the basement. With nothing left to do but twiddle my thumbs behind my back, my mind goes back to the information I’ve gained from my short time here already.

Not only was Archibald the spawn of Lionel Kilroy, but so is Bianca. They look absolutely nothing alike; it’s no wonder we didn’t put it together ourselves. That can only mean that the bitch has been hiding out with her dad here until they could get to us. Wherever the hell here is. It’s the only explanation as to why we haven’t been able to find her.

“Fuck,” I whimper as another stabbing pain hits me right in the lower abdomen. My instincts are screaming at me to find somewhere safe to nest in, but I absolutely refuse to give in to my needs while I’m in present danger. The only logical reason Lionel even wants me to go into full-blown heat is so he can mate me. Over my dead body will I let that happen. I’ll take my own life before I’m mated to anyone other than my guys.

My guys. My mates. Gods, I hope they’re holding up okay. Tears well in my eyes, but I blink them away. If I know them, they are getting shit together to come in guns-blazin’ and rescue me from this hell.

Closing my eyes, I picture Hunter flipping that knife of his through his fingers, threatening everyone within ten feet of him. Gavin. Oh, my poor Gavin. He’s probably losing his shit yet again at the loss of me. He’s had so much pain and heartache in his life, and I’m not making things any easier for him. Arden is most likely glued to his computer, finding the best possible entry point to get me out. Most would be pissed knowing they have a tracker under their skin and they haven’t been rescued yet. Not me, though. My extraction is going to be carefully planned out so we don’t lose any more men and women. And Vinny. When he’s stressed out, he likes to tug and pull at his nicely coiffed hair, messing it all up as he barks out orders.

I know my guys won’t lose hope, and that’s what keeps me going.

But one big question remains that hasn’t been answered yet.

What does Lionel hope to gain from everything he’s done so far, and what he plans to do in the future?

Shit. Next time he comes down here, I’ll have to see if I can get him to give me the full-on villain monologue I know he is dying to voice. All bad guys have something they want to say before the final act.

But I wouldn’t put it past him that this is another way just to get back at Dad. He’s foiled his plans at every turn. And we will continue to do so. Ending with Lionel in a shallow grave, with his daughter right beside him. We can’t let her live after everything she’s done. Hell, maybe Hunter and I will dig up Archie’s body so the three can rot in hell together.

Shifting in my seat, I attempt to get more comfortable, but there’s only so far I can move. My wrists throb from struggling earlier, but it doesn’t stop me as I twist them back and forth, hoping for the ropes to loosen. Even just a little bit. That’s all I’ll need to get free and take out my revenge on those two.

My nails bite into the fibers piecing the rope together, and I pick at it as much as I can. Maybe, just maybe, I can shred them little by little until enough of it is destroyed that I can pull free. It’s the only way I can think of to get myself out of this precarious situation since I don’t have a knife or anything else handy.

Glancing up, I eye the tools again on the metal table across from me. The rusted-out state they’re in just screams tetanus with even the smallest poke of skin. I’m more liable to stab myself with them and die a slow, painful death than actually get myself free.

The pipes rattle and bang above me, making me flinch. I stop my escape attempt immediately and listen for any sign that Lionel will be rejoining me. He and his bitch kid don’t need even the smallest inkling of an idea that I have a plan to get myself free from this dang uncomfortable chair.

Gods, I hope he doesn’t come back down here until after I get myself free of the bindings he has me in. My nakedness in his presence already makes me uncomfortable, but with the start of my heat bearing down on me, I don’t need it to throw him into a rut. His willpower is astounding at the moment, but there’s no saying how much longer he’ll be able to hold himself back.

After a few moments of nothing but silence, I pick up where I was, picking apart the rope as much as I can. Now is the time I wish I had razor-sharp daggers like those Bianca likes to get done. It would make this task a hundred times easier.

But yeah, no. I like to be au natural.

No fake body parts, hair, nails, or anything else for me.

Bleh.

More power to those who get it done, but it has to be for you, not to fit an image for a guy you’re pandering over. Who’s to say it’s her first time doing that anyway? This could be her fifth persona for all I know.

The rough fibers of the rope rub my fingertips raw, and the piece I’m diligently working on starts to become slick with what I’m going to assume is my own blood. It’s not like I can check since my damn hands are tied behind my back. Taking a break to rest my sore fingers, I twist my wrists, knowing they are going to suffer the same damage, but that’s for future me to worry about.

The rope loosens just a tiny bit, giving more flexibility in my wrists. I cheer silently in my head, still alert to my surroundings and the possibility that someone—anyone—could be watching. I slow my movements with that thought alone because if someone is watching, I don’t want to give away the fact that I’m so damn close to breaking free.

When there isn’t anymore give, I go back to picking at the stupid thing. This shit is so damn tedious. What I wouldn’t give for one of Hunter’s knives. Maybe I’ll have to start keeping one hidden in my damn cunt for situations like this. Ugh. I grimace. Or not. Can you imagine the infection something like that would cause? I’ll keep my lady-bits infection-free, thank you very much.

Time passes by in a blur as I’m left utterly alone. No one comes down to check on me, nor do they bring me food and water. Not that I was expecting them to. But with Lionel’s claims, you would think he would be more sympathetic to my needs. My bladder is freaking screaming to get some relief, and if I don’t get it soon, I’m going to end up sitting in a puddle of not only my own slick but also piss too.

With one last ditch effort, I grit my teeth and pull as hard as I can on the ropes, still holding my wrists immobile. Right when I’m about to give up and throw in the towel, the rope breaks, falling to the ground in a heap behind me.

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