Special thanks to Maude (@g0thiccbimb0 on Instagram) for inspiring this scene! This will live rent-free in my head for the rest of my life.
3
Oliver
“For the last time, nothing happened!” I shouted, pounding against the fortified glass walls of the cage.
The sound barely echoed.
The glass didn’t even rattle when I hit it.
Outside the cage, Hayes leaned back against the metal worktable, arms crossed over his chest, his expression carved from marble. Hudson stood near the door of the cage, his fingers tapping idly against the keypad panel like he was debating what to do next.
The overhead light cast everything in that same sterile glow I remembered from years ago.
That first night.
The terror.
The humiliation.
But I refused to let old emotions overwhelm me. I breathed out slowly, then back in, attempting to calm my racing pulse. It would be okay. They were my husbands now. Back then, we weren’t technically even boyfriends.
I had nothing to be scared of.
At least that’s what I was trying to convince myself.
“You let him flirt with you,” Hayes growled, his teeth clenched from anger. “You let him think he had a chance with you.”
“I was being polite,” I snapped, slamming my palms against the glass. “He bought me a drink. I said thank you. That’s it.”
Hudson stopped fiddling with the controls and looked down at me. “You let him touch your waist.”
“He was guiding me out of the way of the bar crowd!”
Hayes’s jaw popped. “You didn’t remove his hand.”
I laughed—sharp and disbelieving. “Because I didn’t think I needed to. I’m allowed to exist in public without acting fucking feral every time someone speaks to me.”
Hudson stepped closer to where I was sitting, head tilting like a predator watching its prey. I could see my own reflection faintly overlaid on his body—my flushed cheeks, my dark curls sticking up messily from running my hands through them, the glitter that must have rubbed off on me from Lane.
We’d gone out dancing together before, and it had been fine. My mistake was assuming it’d be fine tonight as well.
I sighed, internally groaning. Right about now, Lane was probably propped up in bed with a nice snack and Greyson massaging his aching feet. Yet as soon asIgot home, my men had literally thrown me over their shoulders and carried a disgruntled, still slightly tipsy me down into their murder basement.
I was sweaty, too glittery for comfort, and itching to get out of the tight clothes I’d gone out in. I just wanted a big glass of water and a shower. Maybe some cheese puffs, too.
“Focus, pup,” Hudson warned, peering down at my pitiful form.
“Take me upstairs.” I glared up at him.
Hayes pushed off the table and joined his brother in looking down at me like I was a misbehaving dog they needed to punish.
“You entertained his advances,” Hayes scowled. “Wearingthat.”
My brows pinched together as I glanced down at the skin-tight clothing. “What’s wrong with my outfit?”
“Nothing,” he said, shrugging. “You look fucking delicious, little one.”
