“You didn’t strike me as the chef type,” I said, watching as he expertly diced an onion while simultaneously taking inventory of my surroundings. Twenty yards to that thick cluster of pines. Another fifteen beyond that before the undergrowth would provide decent cover. “I was expecting protein bars and tactical MREs, not… whatever you’re making that smells annoyinglygood. Did you kidnap a sous chef too, or is ‘Gourmet Cooking for Kidnappers’ just standard alpha training these days?”
Marco glanced up with a flash of white teeth, his knife never pausing its rhythmic dance across the cutting board. “My nonna would rise from her grave and haunt me if I served anything less than proper food, even in the field.” His knife moved with the same dangerous precision I suspected he used on people who crossed him. “Being effective doesn’t mean sacrificing civilization. Besides, I find that a well-fed captive is a more compliant captive.”
“No, kidnapping people and holding them against their will covers the ‘uncivilized’ part quite nicely,” I shot back. “The Michelin-starred menu just adds a layer of cognitive dissonance to the whole hostage experience. Should I expect a wine pairing with my imprisonment?”
Stefano’s gaze flicked toward me, those cobalt eyes burning with a heat that had nothing to do with warmth and everything to do with the kind of danger that made smart people run and stupid omegas get wet.
“This isn’t kidnapping, little wildcat,” he said, his voice dropping to that dangerous velvet rumble that seemed designed to make omega spines tingle. “It’s a lesson in consequences. One you seem determined to make as difficult as possible.”
“A lesson that conveniently involves me being your captive audience overnight,” I retorted, trying to ignore the way his voice resonated somewhere low in my stomach. It was like my body had established a direct connection between his vocal cords and parts of me that had no business responding to someone who’d just stripped me half-naked and manhandled me like a caveman. “Very educational. I’m learning so much about Stockholm syndrome already. Do I get a certificate at the end? Maybe a little diploma in ‘Advanced Alpha Compliance’?”
Every good prison break needs a distraction. And the oldest one in the book has always been reliable.
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, crossing my legs with exaggerated discomfort. The movement made me acutely aware of how the oversized sweatpants were riding up, and I tugged them down irritably. “So, um, what’s the protocol for bathroom breaks in this little punishment scenario? Do I raise my hand like in elementary school, or should I just find a convenient corner of my prison cell? Maybe a designated tree marked with Omega Facilities in bright neon?”
The three alphas exchanged one of those silent communications that made me want to scream. Did they teach this telepathic bullshit in Alpha School, or was it just an annoying talent that came packaged with the superiority complex? I swear they could have entire conversations with just the slightest shifts in their eyebrows and imperceptible nods.
“Matteo,” Stefano finally nodded, apparently deeming him my bathroom chaperone.
The quiet alpha approached, his hazel eyes revealing nothing as he gestured for me to stand. “This way.” Just that—two words delivered with the emotional range of a particularly stoic brick wall.
I rose. “Don’t worry, I won’t try anything,” I lied smoothly. “Being surrounded by three alphas with obvious boundary issues has thoroughly squashed my rebellious spirit. I’m completely domesticated now. You’ve successfully broken me with your alpha magic.”
“I’m sure,” Stefano drawled, not even looking up from where he was arranging logs around the fire. “That’s why Matteo has the fastest reflexes of all of us.”
Something about the casual way he mentioned it sent an unwelcome shiver down my spine. It wasn’t a threat, exactly—more like a simple statement of fact that happened to carrylethal implications. Like mentioning that a snake is venomous while you’re already trapped in a pit with it.
Matteo led me to a small thicket of bushes just beyond the campsite perimeter, still within sight of the fire but offering minimal privacy. “Here.” Again with the monosyllabic communication. Did they remove certain vocabulary sections of his brain during alpha training?
“Seriously?” I gestured at the barely adequate coverage. “What happened to basic human dignity? I can literally see the campsite from here. This isn’t privacy—this is a peep show with foliage accessories.”
“It left when you tried to run the first time,” he replied, his voice carrying a hint of amusement that I’d never heard from him before. The smallest crack in that impenetrable facade. “I’ll turn my back, but I’m not moving farther away. Consider yourself lucky—Stefano wanted to keep you on a leash.”
“How generous,” I muttered. “I’ll be sure to include that in my review of this kidnapping experience. ‘Bathroom privacy: one star. At least the guard turned his back while maintaining line-of-sight.’”
Matteo simply stared at me as he waited for me to get on with it.
“Fine,” I finally huffed, waiting until he turned before slipping behind the bushes.
I crouched down, making sure my shadow was visible from his position, all while scanning my surroundings. The undergrowth to my right looked thinner, creating a potential path that would be less noisy. Darkness was falling quickly now, which would work in my favor if I could just get enough of a head start.
“Hurry up,” Matteo called, still facing away but clearly monitoring my movements by sound. The guy had ears like a bat—probably another fun alpha enhancement package that came standard with the muscles and attitude.
“You try peeing in borrowed pants that fall off if you breathe wrong,” I shot back, slowly shifting my weight to prepare for my sprint. “It’s a delicate operation. These things weren’t designed for practical bodily functions—they were designed for giants with no hips and apparently no need to use the bathroom.”
I counted silently in my head. One… two…
On three, I bolted—not toward the obvious path but cutting sharply left where the shadows were deepest, running full tilt into the forest. My heart hammered in my chest as branches whipped against my face and arms, tiny stinging reminders that nature was just as committed to my suffering as the alphas were.
Behind me, I heard Matteo’s sharp snort of amusement—like he’d been expecting this exact move—and the immediate thunder of pursuit. The sound sent a chill of realization down my spine. They’d planned for this. Of course they had. But I pushed harder anyway, ignoring the burn in my lungs and desperation clawing at my chest. Maybe if I was fast enough, lucky enough?—
Then I saw him.
Stefano stood directly in my path, a dark silhouette against the trees, completely motionless like a predator who’d already calculated his prey’s every move. Those cobalt eyes caught the moonlight, watching me with calm anticipation. There wasn’t even surprise on his face—just the patient expectation of someone who’d been ten steps ahead the entire time.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I gasped, skidding to a halt and immediately changing direction. It was like the universe had a personal vendetta against my escape attempts, placing this alpha roadblock at every possible exit. “Do you have a tracking device implanted in me or something?”
Too late. I heard him behind me, moving with that impossible speed that seemed unnatural for someone his size.I pushed myself harder, desperately weaving between trees, but his footsteps grew closer with each second. He wasn’t even breathing hard, the bastard, while my lungs felt like they were about to explode.
