Near the center of the warehouse, a folding table is set up beneath one of the lights. A handful of Finn’s men sit around it, cards spread out between them, beer bottles clustered near their elbows. Laughter cuts through the quiet. A couple of them glance up when they see me. One nods. Another tips his chin in acknowledgment.
I return their nods and pick up my pace, heading straight for the plain metal door on the other side of the room. I wrap my hand around the handle, feel the cold bite of the metal, then pull.
This room is much smaller, tighter, lit by a single overhead light. In the center, a chair sits bolted to the floor, with a small drain positioned beneath it.
Zack is tied to it, wrists bound to the armrests, ankles secured, his head hanging forward like he is too scared to look up. His freshly bleached hair hangs in his face, hiding his eyes.
Jimmy stands right behind the fucker, arms crossed, posture relaxed in a way that tells me he’s actually been here for a while. The alpha smiles when he sees me, the shadows making the lines around his eyes appear especially deep. He’s only twenty-two, but he always looks so worn around the edges. Like he hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in over a decade.
“You’re right on time,” Jimmy says with a bright smile. “I wasn’t expecting you for another hour.”
I close the door behind me and it latches; the sound echoing around the small space.
Zack shifts in the chair when the door shuts, the restraints creaking as his shoulders tense. But he still doesn’t look up.
Jimmy glances at me, then back at Zack. His smile fades into something more serious as he steps to the side, giving me a clear line of sight.
I take a few steps forward and stop directly in front of Zack. Close enough that he can smell the rage pouring off me.
“Look at me, Zack,” I command.
He hesitates, then slowly lifts his head. His eyes go wide when they land on my face. He tries to talk, but the gag stuffed in his mouth only allows for a few muffled sounds from his throat. His eyes dart to mine and then away again, confusion cutting through the fear on his face.
My hand flies out, grabbing a handful of his hair and jerking his head back.
A sharp yelp tears from his throat, his body going rigid in the chair as he’s forced to stare up at me, his neck exposed and vulnerable. The confusion in his eyes is gone now, replaced by pure, unadulterated terror. His breathing hitches, his chest heaving rapidly, and his pupils shrink to pinpoints. He squeezes his eyes shut as I scan his face, finding the thin scar cutting through his eyebrow.Exactly like Tansy described.
A cold sense of certainty settles in my chest.
We have the right guy.
I tug his hair hard, and a sharp, ragged gasp is torn from his throat. “Do you know why you’re here?” I ask.
Zack’s eyes snap open, scanning my face again like the answer might suddenly appear. He swallows around the gag, then shakes his head slowly.No.
I figured as much.
“You hurt my omega,” I growl quietly, letting my words bleed into the air.
Fear floods his eyes, washing away the last of his confusion.Then he shakes his head again, then tries to talk around the gag, his jaw working frantically, but nothing comes out except for desperate, muffled whimpers. He looks at me, pleading silently, his entire body trembling as reality crashes down on him.
I nod through his pleas. “Yes, Zack. You did.” My eyes flash with rage. “You put your filthy fucking hands on her.”
The frantic noises die in his throat, choked off by a sob, and he sits there shaking, weeping silently behind the gag.
The scent of his fear is intoxicating, sharp and acrid in the air, mixing with the metallic tang of the room. It satisfies the beast inside me on a primal level, seeing the man who hurt my beautiful mate reduced to this blubbering mess.
I reach behind the fucker’s head and grab the knot in the gag, jerking it up and over his head.
He gasps, sucking in air, his lips moving as he immediately tries to defend himself, to spin some lie. "No, wait, I didn't?—"
I cut him off with a vicious right hook to the nose.
The impact is solid, bone crunching against my knuckles. His head snaps back with a sickening crack. Blood sprays instantly, gushing from his nose and running down his face and chin. A groan of pain escapes him, but the sound is music to my ears.
My knuckles sting, but the satisfaction that blooms in my chest is undeniable. It feels so fucking good to finally put my hands on him, to inflict even a fraction of the pain he deserves.
Zack slumps in the chair, dazed, his breath hitching through the blood bubbling in his nose. He tries to lift his head, his eyes swimming with tears and shock.
