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Bobby growls and charges Arsenio, trying to dodge past him. “You son of a—”
I spin and aim my gun at Bobby from the landing, pulling the trigger. Blood pours from the wound on his chest, soaking into his robe. The alpha drops to his knees, howling in pain. I heave a few deep breaths, wanting nothing more than to finish him off.
“Make me a deal, King Wilder. I’ll tell the leaders whatever you need. Make me a deal, and I’ll sign the paperwork that guarantees Kinsey is yours.” Rommel cautiously steps from the hallway, raising his hands in surrender.
“You traitor! We had a deal!” Bobby hollers, clutching his chest.
“Give me Platinum Shores and show what a reasonable man you are. Show them you can be complacent and smart. Let them believe they can control you. It’s what you need to succeed with whatever the fuck you plan to do.” Rommel steps closer, keeping his eyes locked to mine.
I clench my teeth, my mind whirling. He shouldn’t make so much sense. Guys like him destroy everything in their wake, but they also put self-preservation first. It’s the only reason I believe his word about the other leaders.
Breaking his gaze, I peer over the balcony at Arsenio and Desmond, looking to them for answers. This shouldn’t be my sole decision. This concerns Kinsey and our pack. It concerns our future.
“Wilder! Wilder, he’s manipulating you!” Bobby yells, groaning.
Except he’s not. He believes he is, but I’m not stupid.
I can use this to my advantage. Under the Saint Vista Pack Regimes’ law of the region, I have the right to punish traitors as I see fit. All I need is to get him to go through with signing the appropriate documents to guarantee us Kinsey, and then I’ll kill him myself.
I just hope my brothers trust me.
Kinsey too.
I holster my gun and raise my hand. “I’ll tentatively accept, but you have to prove your word now. Tell your ally that the Smithsons sold the omegas out from under them, and they tried to kill you to hide it. Accept the blame for their deaths. Do that, and we’ll make a proper deal.”
Rommel whips his head up and down, smirking at what he thinks is his success. I remain expressionless, listening to him call in a report to the Lunar Mountain Pack.
“You fuck—” Gunfire silences Bobby as Arsenio ends his life. The Smithsons don’t have a chance to retaliate before the three of us open fire, taking down those present to ensure word doesn’t get out.
Silence fills the air, and I puff out a breath through my mouth, the bitter scent of the fallen alphas and betas permeating the air. I turn to Rommel expectantly, waving my hand for him to lead the way. I’ll never turn my back on him. He’s confident enough in our verbal agreement to obey, taking the stairs two at a time.
I join my brothers, their faces expressionless. I can’t tell whether or not I’m about to get my ass kicked, but it doesn’t matter. Several soft cries and whimpers cut through the silence. I freeze at the dark entrance to a cement corridor, not unlike the security tunnels we have winding through the palace.
“It’s okay, knotty girls. I’m not gonna hurt you. I’m saving you.” Rommel’s voice rises in tone, and he sounds like he is speaking to frightened animals. “Come on. Let’s get you girls out of here.”
My heart raps hard against my ribs, threatening to break free. A pale-haired blonde steps from the corridor first, her slender, tall form reminding me of Holly.
Disgust twists my stomach. This could’ve been both Kinsey and Holly’s fates.
This could be the downfall of our region if I don’t change things.
Desmond steps forward, knowing he’s less likely to scare the seven omegas that emerge from the basement—six females and a male. “Don’t look around, okay? We’re the leaders of Gilded Sands. We have a safe house to take you to. Is that okay?”
None of them argue, not that they would.
I shoot a text to Enzo.
Me: Make sure you and Kinsey are dressed and available when we get home. Plans have changed. We found a nest of enslaved omegas.”
Baby Brother: What? Seriously? Was it Rommel?
Me: It’s too much to explain. I don’t want to leave a digital trail. Just be ready.
“Shall we?” Rommel asks, drawing my attention away from the phone.
I flare my nostrils and glower at him. “Shall we what? You’re fucking staying here and taking care of this mess. I’m not getting involved in this shitshow or the paperwork.” Reaching for Bobby’s corpse, I tug his cellphone from his robe. “I have Bobby’s number. I’ll call you in the morning. Don’t ignore my call.”
Rommel presses his lips together, his eyes slits with his annoyance. He looks ready to argue but says, “Fine. I’ll stand by, but don’t even think of trying to cross me.”
