Page 45 of The Mafia's Omega Queen

"Hey, babe, can I get a refill while you're up?"

Even from here, I can hear Haylee grind her teeth at this jackass calling her babe. Trevor watches me for any sort of a reaction to him calling my omega pet names, but he isn't going to get one. Not yet, anyway.

"Sure," Haylee grits out, forcing a smile on her face. I have to choke down the snort that wants to come out. Maybe I was wrong. She looks two seconds away from killing him.

Haylee snags his glass and forcibly sets it down on the cart, grabbing the whiskey and pouring some for him and herself. His eyes move from me, and he watches her every move. Or should I say, he's looking straight at her ass. Who wouldn't in the tight-ass jeans she basically has painted on her body. But I need to draw his attention away from her so she can drug him.

"So, Trevor, we're going to let you put together your own team for raids. Do you have any idea of who you want on it?" His eyes come back to mine, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

"Definitely Becca and Nate. They've been great to work with, if not a little chatty, but they get the job done." Him calling those two out makes me worry that they may be in league with him, which is something we'll need to ask once we get him tied up.

Before I can reply, Haylee saunters back over and passes him two fingers of whiskey, tossing me a wink as her way of letting me know it's done.

"Cheers." Haylee holds out of her glass, waiting for us to join her. I get to my feet and step closer, holding mine out, too, just as Trevor does the same.

"Cheers," Trevor and I say at the same time, and then we all pound back what's in our glasses.

We all drop our empty rocks glasses on the table, then retake our spots on the couches, getting comfortable. This part shouldn't take too long, depending on how much Haylee slipped into his drink. Knowing her, it was enough to take down a horse.

“Well, I should get out of here before the drinks kick in.” Trevor gets to his feet, immediately swaying where he stands. “Don’t want to drive home drunk and that stuff.”

“You’re not going anywhere.” Hunter steps into the den, flipping his knife between his fingers.

“Wha—” He doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence before he drops like a shit-ton brick to the floor.

Haylee giggles as she steps around the coffee table, but before we can stop her, she brings her foot back and kicks the fucker right in the head. He doesn’t make a noise, nor move a muscle, but the crack of his nose breaking is enough to make me cringe. He’s well and truly out. Thank fuck.

“Let’s get him to the torture room, little killer. Then you can play with him all you want.” Hunter picks the asshole up and throws him over his shoulder like he weighs nothing and leaves the room, Haylee hot his heels.

I’m just glad that’s over with. I’m fucking starving.

Hunter has a skip in his step as he heads down the hallway toward his chamber. The asshole slung over his shoulder is down and out for the count, drops of blood trailing behind as it falls from his busted nose. That's the least he deserves, and I can't wait to give him the punishment his crimes are fit for. Not only is he responsible for the deaths of so many good men and women, but the bastard is more than willing to drive home drunk. He doesn't seem to give a shit about the safety of others, let alone himself. It makes me wonder, though, how many times he's put others in jeopardy. If he's been with Andoneli for fifteen years, is it possible he's responsible for the attack on the compound that got Gavin's mate killed?

It's good that Gavin isn't joining us because I plan to ask. And if he is responsible? I'll make sure Gavin gets his justice and closure for her death.

While I was jealous over his dead mate for a while, I’ve long since passed that. I know he loves me more than anything in the world, and his time with her has shaped him into the protective mate he is now. I wouldn't wish for anyone to lose a mate, but things happen for a reason.

Gah, that makes me sound like a bitch. But it's true.

Hunter pops open the door easily and mock-bows, holding it for me to pass through. I giggle at his antics. He's excited as hell to be in his element. This is him. Who he is. And I wouldn't trade for all the diamonds in the world. People say diamonds are a woman's best friend, but instruments of torture of mine. And Hunter knows that. Intimately.

The door closes behind Hunter with a loud bang, and he steps into the middle of the all-white room, dropping the asshole unceremoniously on the floor. Another sick crunching sound echoes through the almost empty space, and still, not a damn peep from Trevor boy. Arden and Vinny weren't specific on how much I should use to dose him; they just said not to give him the whole thing. And I didn't. I gave him about ninety percent. I wanted him down and out quickly so we could get him here and get what we needed. Time is of the essence when all of our lives, along with the lives of others, are on the line.

I watch on as Hunter goes to a plain section of the wall and uncovers yet another keypad. I would almost think it was the same one that had the hidden area, except this is a completely different wall. He taps in a code, and part of the wall sucks in and slides out of the way, revealing a smaller second room. Stepping forward, I peek in, wondering what kinds of goodies he has back there. It looks to be different chairs, tables, and the likes of which to tie someone down.

Hunter whistles to himself, almost like he forgot I was here, as he strolls through the many options, stopping on a regular chair.

Boring! The chains in the ceiling are much more fun, and they give us more access to various body parts.

Hunt picks up the chair and carries it out, setting it right in the middle of the room, directly over the drain in the floor. He snatches Trevor's prone body from where he dropped him and sets him in place. "Come hold him for me, little killer, while I get the chains."

My feet carry me forward without a reply, and I place my hands on his shoulders, rooting him to the spot while Hunter disappears back into the room off to the side. The rattling of metal clicking together reaches my ears, getting louder the closer Hunt gets to the door. He comes out, his hands piled with what is probably three or four separate chain-link strands. He crouches down, setting the pile close by, pulling one out, and wrapping it around Trevor's leg, anchoring it to the chair himself. Hunter does the same with the other, then takes an extremely long one and wraps it around Trevor's lower abdomen, going all the way around the chair, too. Once secured, he picks up the last small chain as I step back, giving him room, wondering where he's going to put that one.

Hunter surprises me when he grabs part of the chair’s backrest and pulls up. The headrest extends up to where Trevor's head rests perfectly against it. Without skipping a beat, Hunt wraps the last chain around Trevor's neck and the headrest. He is well and truly immobile. There's no way he's going to get out of that. If he fights at all, the most that will happen is the chair toppling to the floor, which, I must say, will hurt like a fucking bitch. There's nothing he can do to soften the fall, so he'll probably split his head open.

The whooshing of another panel opening catches my attention, this time a smaller one next to his glassed-in tools. Hunter brandishes a vial of smelling salts to wake the asshole up, letting me know it's time to get started. The glass cases are already open, and the tools gleam in the artificial light, just waiting to be used.

The crack of the vial snaps my attention away from the cases and back to the show that's about to be put on. Hunter is once again crouched in front of Trevor, but this time, he's waving the salts under the fucker's busted nose. There's a chance it may not even work with the damage I did, but oh well. If it works, it'll be the last thing he ever smells anyway.

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