"Might as well hang a sign around your neck that says 'willing sacrifice,'" I muttered, tugging the shirt down over my hips. "Or maybe 'property of alpha mafia, please return if found wandering.'"
The worst part was the flutter of anticipation beneath the dread, the way my body remembered their hands and mouths with inconvenient clarity. Six months of touching myself to those memories, and now I was voluntarily walking back into their arms because of blackmail. The universe had a particularly cruel sense of humor when it came to my life choices.
My ankle monitor felt heavier than usual, the weight of it a constant reminder of my captivity. Seven years of my father's electronic leash, and now I was exchanging it for a different kind of restraint—one made of alpha hands and cruel promises.
Ten forty-seven.
Outside my window, the night was quiet except for the soft whining of dogs—not barking, just that plaintive sound that said they were waiting. Apollo and Zeus, sent to escort me, or perhaps to drag me back if I didn't come willingly. The furry vanguard of my captors.
I pushed the curtain aside just enough to peer out and immediately regretted it. Matteo stood in the garden below, face tilted up toward my window, his stillness that of a predator who could outwait his prey. The moonlight cast his features in silverand shadow, making him look like something from a darker mythology than mere man.
"That's not creepy at all," I whispered, letting the curtain fall back into place. "Nothing says 'consensual encounter' quite like stationing your most terrifying alpha to stare at my window like a serial killer from a particularly unimaginative horror movie."
Even through the closed window, I could detect the faint trace of cedar and rain—his scent carrying on the night air, wrapping around me like an invisible claim. My omega biology responded immediately, a flush of warmth spreading across my skin despite the triple dose of suppressants I'd taken. My body was a traitor, recognizing and welcoming what my mind still fought against.
I paced my room, watching the minutes tick by with perverse satisfaction. Eleven twenty-three. Eleven forty-one. Eleven fifty-six.
Each passing hour felt like a small victory, a tiny rebellion that would undoubtedly be crushed beneath alpha dominance, but it was mine for now. Stefano's face when I finally showed up hours late—that would almost be worth whatever punishment followed.
Almost.
Midnight. The witching hour. Appropriate timing for selling my soul to three devils in designer clothes.
I pulled on a light jacket over my sleep clothes, a flimsy barrier against what was coming, and made my way downstairs. The cottage was silent, Aunt Akiko and Uncle Jiro having been asleep for hours. Their predictable routine—in bed by ten, up with the sun at six—was part of what made them such perfect guardians for a troublesome omega. Too early to bed to notice my late-night wanderings, too early to rise to catch me returning.
The night air hit my face as I stepped outside, cool enough to make me shiver, or perhaps that was just anticipation. Matteo was waiting exactly where I'd seen him, his stillness unnerving in its completeness. Only his eyes moved, tracking me as I approached, his expression impossible to read in the darkness.
"You're late," he said, his quiet voice carrying easily in the still night. "Deliberately."
I lifted my chin, feigning a confidence I didn't feel. "Am I? I must have misunderstood. I thought the invitation was for 'whenever the hell I feel like showing up.'"
"Midnight," he stated flatly. "Two hours past the required time."
"Required by whom? I don't recall agreeing to a specific schedule for my blackmail-induced surrender. Should I have put it in my calendar? 'Ten p.m.: Be sexually coerced by three alphas with delusions of ownership.' My bad. Next time I'll set an alarm."
His expression didn't change, but something in his posture shifted, coiled tension preparing to spring. "We don't like waiting, Leo. And disobedience has consequences."
The barely veiled threat made my stomach flip with unwelcome heat. The implicit claim and demand for submission hit something primal in my omega biology that I'd spent years pretending didn't exist.
"I'm not interested in your dominance games," I said, my voice embarrassingly breathless. "I'm here because you're blackmailing me. Nothing more."
"And yet," he replied, his eyes tracking the pulse hammering in my throat, "you dressed for the occasion. Those shorts leave very little to the imagination."
I crossed my arms defensively. "What I'm wearing doesn't matter. You know I'm only here because of those videos."
"Tell yourself whatever you need to maintain your illusion of resistance." In one fluid motion, he closed the distance between us, towering over me with that quiet menace that made him so effective. "Your defiance has consequences, Leo. You're going to learn that tonight."
Before I could react, he bent and lifted me over his shoulder in one smooth movement, arm banded across the backs of my thighs. The familiar position—ass in the air, face hanging down his back—sent a rush of blood to my head and heat to my core.
"Put me down, you Neanderthal!" I pounded my fists against his back, though we both knew it was futile. "I can walk! This caveman carry is completely unnecessary!"
"Apparently not," he replied, already striding toward the forest path with Apollo and Zeus trotting ahead as silent guides. "If you could be trusted to arrive on time and under your own power, we wouldn't be having this conversation."
The steady rhythm of his stride made my position increasingly precarious, my t-shirt sliding down to expose my stomach while my shorts rode up in ways that would have been mortifying if anyone could see.
"This is assault," I informed his back as my world bounced with each step. "Kidnapping. False imprisonment. I'm keeping a running list of charges for when I eventually testify against you. The prosecutors are going to need extra paper just for my statement."
His hand landed on my ass with a sharp crack, the sting radiating outward in a wave that made me gasp. The sensation sent an immediate pulse of heat straight to my groin—a remembered response from that night in the forest when I'd discovered, to my absolute mortification, that being spanked by Stefano did inexplicable things to my omega biology.
