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“Uh oh,” I muttered, and the mood shifted from playful to serious. If Weston had set his mind on something to push me toward their morally gray lifestyle, I was in trouble.
Yet, for some inexplicable reason, I wasn’t afraid.
“Don’t overthink,” he said quietly, and I wished it were that easy.
Weston drove us through the city and toward the harbor. My heart started pounding in my chest as we drew closer, but I let out a sigh of relief when he veered off at the last minute, taking us into a copse of trees.
“What’s out here?”
“It’s not what’s out here, but what’s beyond,” he promised. The man was full of riddles, so I didn’t bother to push him for more answers before he climbed out. I followed, waiting while he pulled open his trunk and hit a button, revealing a compartment that held several guns. He pulled out a black bag and closed the rest away. “Let’s go.”
If I didn’t know this beta, I’d be worried, but I knew Weston wouldn’t hurt me.
He led me through the underbrush, never once stepping on the clear path. The trees thinned out to reveal the back alley of a row of businesses. He crouched down, and I followed suit, swallowing down the worry that was trying to overtake my mind.
What the fuck is he getting me into?
“There he is,” Weston whispered, pulling me down even lower alongside him. “That man right there is one of the men spearheading the senator’s campaign. He has a vested interest in the outcome. He was not only on that list you and Hayes found, but he’s got a preference for omegas of the younger variety.”
“No,” I groaned. “What are we here to do?”
“Kill him,” Weston said as if he were discussing the weather. He put his gun together and screwed on a scope before offering it to me. “Would you like to do the honors?”
My fingers flexed. Instinctively I wanted to take it, to end him for all he’d done to omegas. Adrenaline pumped through my veins, and as Weston leaned closer, I had to breathe through it to stay focused.
“When this is over, I can give you more information on his crimes. I’m simply asking, Bailey. No pressure here,” he promised.
“He’s a monster?” I asked. He grinned and nodded, leaning closer to give me a few gory details that had me pulling the gun away from him and taking aim. Weston adjusted my grip, silently positioning me so I didn’t miss the shot.
The man in question leaned against the wall of his business, his cigarette burning to ash between two fingers as he stared at his phone.
He was clueless and helpless.
Once his forehead was in the scope, I exhaled and pulled the trigger. Weston took the gun from my hand and packed it away before leading me back the way we’d come. The sound would likely bring attention despite the silencer.
The man lay in a heap on the ground, a puddle of blood forming around him. Despite Weston’s insistence, I took a moment to look at what I’d done. There wasn’t a single drop of remorse in my body, only relief. North Harbor was now home to one less alpha predator. I’d taken a life, but I didn’t fucking care.
I felt strangely exhilarated. In a twisted way, it was healing. The guilt I’d carried around about my ex had dissolved along with that man’s life. What I’d done then was right, and so was this. Did he get a jury? No, the justice system was fucked up enough that he likely would have never faced a single consequence for his actions.
“God, that was so fucking hot,” Weston crooned as he pulled me through the woods and back to the car. He tucked away the gun before pulling me toward the backseat. I’d have protested, but the man was feral, ripping at my clothes and his own. His cock was already hard and ready, and fuck, if I wasn’t too.
Adrenaline still coursed through my veins, and here, in this hidden spot, he was about to fuck me senseless.
Maybe I fit right in with them. I’d questioned it before, but I’d say the slick running down my thighs as he speared his tongue inside of me was proof enough. I’d killed a man, and now I was about to fuck my mate in the afterglow of that murder.
“Fuck,” I gasped when he latched onto my clit, sucking hard as his hands kneaded my breasts. Weston was enthusiastic in everything he did, and this was no exception. He didn’t linger in one spot for long, constantly exploring me and shifting position. Each stroke of his tongue and brush of his fingers had my body tensing and an orgasm threatening to break free.
“Watching you take my gun, running your hands along it then shooting so perfectly, might have been one of the sexiest fucking things I’ve ever witnessed,” he said, breathy and groaning. I wrapped my fingers around his cock, stroking him as he spoke. “I’ve always dreamed of fucking my mate after a kill. I just never expected it to play out like this, with you doing the shooting.”
Did he always get this turned on in the adrenaline fallout of his job? “Have you thought of me after a kill?” I asked, suddenly curious.
“Yes,” he admitted. “I fucked my hand while thinking of you after one of my jobs. The man needed to die, and I painted the ground while whispering your name.”
“God, why is that so hot?” I asked, moaning when he slid his fingers over my clit, finally setting into a rhythm.
“Because you’re like me, Bailey. You crave justice and know the only way to get it is with your own two hands. That man needed to die, and we were the ones who got to decide his fate. It’s powerful, heady, and now I get to fill you with my cum and keep that image burned into my brain forever.”
My body shuddered around him, the orgasm stealing my breath as pleasure coursed through my veins. He swallowed down what little noises I made as I came, ensuring we weren’t interrupted.
