Page 13 of Vendetta

If there was some sort of danger, innocents could end up in the crossfire as collateral damage. I knew all too well how easily a life could be taken. The way the light dimmed from their eyes as their heartbeat for the last time. I knew death better than anyone should have to, and that wasn’t something I wanted to be responsible for.

Shaking the dark memories from my thoughts, I looked Cruz over once more. He was no doubt sexy as fuck, but he carried himself like he knew his way around a gun. And probably a woman’s body, too, but I couldn’t think about that right now. Resolving myself to ignore the man, I spun toward the door and ripped it open.

I could behave, mostly. If it meant the safety of my friends.

My father stood from his chair, adjusting his tie. “And one more thing before you go. I’ve arranged your marriage to Lorenzo Vasco. I’m sure you remember him.”

Chapter 9

Rosalina

My body seized and stuttered to a stop. All thought fled as the ground dropped out from under my feet. “What did you just say?”

“I said you are to be married, Rosa. It’s long past time. You’ll be a good wife and give us many little alphas to carry on the family business.”

The unspoken jab at my mother’s refusal to provide him more children was not lost on me.

He might as well have slapped me.

“No. No, absolutely not.” Marrying anyone in the organization would mean I’d never be free of this life. Let alone to that degenerate, Lorenzo.

“Rosita, my daughter. I should have done this long ago. There are few enough omegas to go around. This is a good solution for everyone.”

“But, papá, please.” I reined in the torrent of my emotions. “You promised I could finish school, get a job, and have a normal life.”

“That was before. Now this must be done.”

It was as if he dumped a bucket of ice water over my head. I loved my father; he was the only family I had left, but all his promises were nothing but empty platitudes. He was selling me.

“But why? Don’t you remember what happened to his last omega? I won’t do it! I refuse!” My earlier resolve crumbled under the threat of being shackled to a monster.

“Don’t be silly, Rosa. That was just a rumor. He is a good leader with a strong pack. He assured me they will protect you. It’s the perfect solution. Lorenzo will be my heir, and you will be his wife. You’re too delicate and fragile to run things on your own. I could never leave the business to you. The men won’t follow an omega, but this way, everything that is mine will still be yours when I’m gone.”

“I don’t want that. I don’t want your things. I don’t want him or his pack!” Then I did the one thing I should never do, especially in front of a stranger. I brought up Valentina Reyes. “I’m not my mother. Don’t take your issues with her out on me. You forced her into a marriage that she didn’t want, and look how well that turned out! Maybe if you’d waited for a scent-match, your wife wouldn’t have hated you, and your son would still be alive. Why would you consign me to the same fate?”

His lips pressed together in a thin line, as if to mask some deeper emotion, and his eyes drifted to the crystal figurine on his desk. “Scent-matches make you weak. They give your enemies leverage. If I'd waited for my scent-match, I wouldn't have you.” Finality cut through the sadness in his tone, as if that should appease me.

“But you never wanted me. You only wanted sons to carry on your legacy. Now you’re stuck with a ‘useless omega.’” I spat the bitter words from my mouth.

He didn’t want me. He only wanted my brother.

All I'd ever dreamed was for him to see me as his daughter, not a nuisance, not a bartering chip, not someone who reminded him of the woman who resented him, and his only son who’d died. The daughter who reminded him he no longer had a male heir and never would. Anguish ripped through my chest, almost bringing me to my knees. “Daddy, please.” My eyes stung, but I clung to my wavering strength. I would not cry over this. I’d already cried too many times.

When I saw my father’s face, my stomach plummeted. I shouldn’t have brought up scent-matches, my mother, or my dead brother.

The thin line of his lips was all the answer I needed. He wouldn’t budge, no matter how much I begged. A flood of bitter anger rushed over me, quickly smothering the tears waiting to fall and burning the pain away.

My father’s expression hardened even further, and his eyes dropped to the crystal butterfly figurine on his desk again. He shot to his feet, trying to cover the lapse, but I saw it.

“Rosa, you are my perfect little flower. I love you, I just want what’s best for you.” He tugged his jacket lapels, straightening the pristine fabric.

My rage boiled. Somewhere in my fury, I’d made my way to his desk. My fingernails bit into the varnished wood where I gripped the edge, but his break in eye contact was something I couldn’t ignore. The butterfly statuette, with its delicate wings, scattered rainbows across the shiny wooden counter. How dare it be so cheerful when my life was falling apart?

I leapt for it. As my fingers brushed the cool, slick surface with every intention of destruction, a meaty arm banded around my waist and a calloused hand grabbed my wrist, stopping me short of my goal.

Sweet sandalwood and amber filled my lungs and sparked across my taste buds. The heat of his skin burned through the thin fabric of my T-shirt, molding to my back. His belt buckle, and something even firmer, pressed against my ass.

A groan lodged in my throat. Oh, that’s nice…