Stefano studied me for a long moment, then shook his head. “Not acceptable.” Before I could react, his hands were at my waistband, fingers brushing against my bare skin as he worked the sodden fabric down my hips.
“Get your hands off me!” I shouted, trying to push him away, but it was like trying to move a mountain with harsh language and good intentions. He simply caught both my wrists in one large hand, pinning them above my head against the tree while his other hand continued its work. “Is this how you normally undress people? Or am I getting the special deluxe package? Should I be honored that you’ve upgraded me from ‘kidnapping victim’ to ‘unwilling strip-tease performer’?”
“Hold still,” he ordered, voice calm despite the heat in his eyes. “The more you struggle, the longer this takes.”
“The more you manhandle me, the more creative your eventual dismemberment will be,” I shot back, though my words lacked their usual bite when I was quite literally backed against a tree. “I’m thinking origami with your intestines. Maybe a nice swan shape, or is that too cliché? Dinosaur might be more appropriate, considering your evolutionary development seems to have stalled somewhere in the Jurassic period.”
I closed my eyes, mortification burning through me as I felt the shorts slide down my thighs. The worst part wasn’t even the humiliation—it was the way my body was reacting to hisproximity, to the casual dominance in his handling. Something hot and unwelcome was unfurling in my stomach, making my breath come shorter, faster. My omega biology was clearly having a party my rational brain hadn’t approved, sending all sorts of confusing signals through my nervous system. Like, hello? Did we miss the memo about hating this guy and everything he stands for?
When the shorts finally hit the ground around my ankles, I was acutely aware of being essentially naked except for Stefano’s oversized shirt, which now felt impossibly inadequate as coverage. The hem brushed mid-thigh, and any movement threatened to reveal everything. I might as well have been wearing tissue paper for all the protection it offered from three pairs of alpha eyes that seemed determined to memorize every inch of exposed skin.
“There,” Stefano said, his voice rougher than before. “That wasn’t so difficult, was it?”
I opened my eyes to find him staring at me with an intensity that made my skin prickle with awareness. His gaze traveled down my bare legs before returning to my face, something dark and hungry flickering in those cobalt depths that looked like they could strip away lies and leave souls bare. It was the look of a predator who’d just cornered something delicious and was considering which part to sample first.
“I hate you,” I managed, the words coming out more breathless than venomous. “All of you. So much. With the fiery passion of a thousand supernovas. If hatred could be converted to electricity, I’d power a small country with what I’m feeling right now.”
“Noted,” Stefano replied. He stepped back, giving me space that felt more like a taunt than a courtesy. “Now, we have a decision to make.”
“What decision?” I asked warily, tugging the shirt down as far as it would go. My fingers clutched at the hem like it was the last shred of my dignity, which wasn’t far from the truth. “The one where I go home and you three go to prison for assault and kidnapping? Because I vote for that one. Two thumbs-up, five stars, would recommend.”
Marco laughed, a sound that somehow managed to be both genuinely amused and slightly menacing. “The decision about how you’ll be spending the night.”
My head snapped up. “What?”
“You heard him,” Stefano said, crossing his arms over his chest in that classic alpha power pose they must teach in Alpha Posturing 101. “You’re not going back to the cottage tonight. You’ve demonstrated that your guardians can’t adequately control you, which means we need to take more… direct measures.”
The implication hit me like a physical blow. My stomach dropped somewhere to the vicinity of my feet. “You can’t keep me overnight. That’s—that’s kidnapping! Pretty sure that’s still illegal, even for alphas with god complexes. Or did you all get a special permit for ‘justified omega abduction’ that I don’t know about?”
“It’s security,” Matteo corrected. “Your father pays us to ensure your safety. Today’s actions proved you need closer supervision.”
“My father would never authorize?—”
“Your father,” Stefano interrupted, “gave us explicit permission to use whatever methods we deemed necessary to keep you safe. Including extended detention if you proved to be a flight risk.”
I stared at him, searching for the lie and finding none. The realization that my father might actually have approved this—might have given these men permission to do whatever theywanted with me—was more chilling than the water dripping from my hair. It was exactly the kind of callous disregard I’d come to expect from the man who’d locked me away for eight years because my biology embarrassed him.
“You’re lying,” I said, but uncertainty made the accusation weak. “My father’s an asshole, but even he wouldn’t authorize the alpha three-ring circus to play dress-up with his son.”
“Call him and check,” Marco suggested with a shrug. “Oh wait, you can’t. How inconvenient for your righteous indignation.”
I felt a surge of genuine panic. I was alone in the forest with three alphas who had already demonstrated their willingness to manhandle me. Now they were saying they intended to keep me overnight, dressed in nothing but a borrowed shirt that barely covered my essential parts. This wasn’t just a detour on my escape route—this was a full-blown nightmare with abs.
“This is insane,” I said, trying to keep the rising anxiety from my voice. “You can’t just decide to keep me like I’m some lost puppy you found in the woods. What’s next, a collar with a little bell and ‘If found, please return to Stefano’s Alpha Emporium’? Maybe a cute little dog bed by the fire where I can curl up at your feet?”
Something dark flashed in Stefano's cobalt-blue eyes at my sarcastic suggestions, like I'd just handed him a particularly appealing blueprint. His gaze sharpened with obvious interest, and I watched in horror as he seemed to genuinely consider the scenarios I'd meant as ridiculous hyperbole.
The way he looked at me sent a confusing mix of terror and unwelcome heat spiraling through my chest. My omega biology was apparently filing his expression under "promising developments" while my rational brain screamed warnings about giving predators ideas. The combination left me feelingdizzy and off-balance, like my own body was betraying me from the inside.
“Actually, we can,” Stefano replied, his expression shifting to something more serious. “And we are. The only question is whether you’ll cooperate or make this more difficult than it needs to be.”
I had a moment of clarity then—the kind that comes when you realize you’re completely outmatched and your options have narrowed to varying degrees of submission rather than any meaningful resistance. These men were bigger, stronger, and apparently had my father’s blessing to do whatever they wanted. Fighting would only result in more humiliation, like a mouse threatening a trio of cats while already halfway down one of their throats.
So I changed tactics.
“Fine,” I said, softening my posture slightly. “If I’m going to be kidnapped, I’d at least like pants. I assume you have something I could wear? Or does the hostage package only come with the complimentary oversized t-shirt? Maybe a gift basket with travel-sized toiletries and a ‘Sorry We Kidnapped You’ card?”
Stefano’s eyebrow arched in surprise at my sudden acquiescence. “We do. Matteo?”
