Chapter 2

Russt

I don't know why the sweet little bitch who haunts my dreams and orchestrates my nightmares is running through the halls soaking wet, but I didn't earn my title as the most ruthless and cunning alpha in the city by passing up such tantalizing opportunities. I'll happily change my plans to accommodate whatever temper tantrum brought her crashing into my chest.

Not only is she the most selfish and dramatic person I know, but she's also the reason my parents are dead. She may not have killed them herself, but her antics convinced her father to murder them.

I hate both her and her father. Neither will survive my wrath. They deserve to suffer.

Her father will die a gruesome, painful death by my hands—the same way my parents died at his—while she'll pray for death as I toy with her for years to come.

I'd planned to start by ruining her father from the ground up, but I suppose this works, too.

I only caught a glimpse of her before she ran headlong into my chest, but from what I saw, she's gorgeous. The single snapshot of her rushing toward me with her pale blue eyes and doll-like features fills me with longing. After bouncing off my chest, the shadows obscured her face, but her eyes shone up at me with the same beguiling sweetness from our youth.

She hasn't changed at all. Hatred swarms through me.

She bites my hand and kicks my shins. I hiss and nip her earlobe.

"Do you really want to play this game, Morwenna?"

She grunts, braces her heels on my thighs, and arches her back, trying to break my grip on her torso. I chuckle and drop one hand between her legs. She clamps her knees together and curls into a ball, pinning my arms between her chest and thighs.

Her wet hair clings to my chin as she releases her bite and shakes her head.

I wedge my fingers deeper between her legs and murmur against her temple.

"That's a shame. We could have had so much fun."

She shakes her head harder and sobs into my hand.

Her father's guards finally clamber through the doorway. I use their momentary blindness to my advantage and kick the first male's leg. His knee snaps. The man behind him trips over his falling body, and they both tumble to the ground.

I fling my prize over my shoulder and enjoy her struggle as each movement fills my nostrils with the smell of her fear. Her shriek as I slap her ass feeds the hungry beast within my soul.

A third and fourth male skid to a halt, barely stopping their momentum before joining the pile of tangled limbs. I step toward them, gaining their full attention. Their eyes widen as they skim up my frame. Fear fills their faces.

"It seems Ricky lost something," I growl.

Tiny fists thrum against my lower back. I smack her ass again. She yelps and fists my shirt.

The two men glance at each other before darting away. I laugh and step out into the sunlight.

People scurry out of my way as I stomp toward the staircase for the upper decks. No one tries to stop me until I reach the doorway.

I sigh as dozens of males appear out of the woodwork and surround me.

Several grizzled older males step forward, their attempt to intimidate me so comical I chuckle and sigh again before shaking my head.

"I'm not here for you," I say. "I'm here for Ricky."

With his hair mussed and the stench of pain and sex wafting from him, Scowl, the male who founded this sorry batch of lowlifes, chuckles and plays with his knife.

"If you're here for Ricky, then you're here for all of us. We're brothers, you see," Scowl says.

Morwenna stiffens at the sound of his voice. She braces her forearms on my back and lifts her head and shoulders to scan the area. Her shaking worsens, and she stops fighting but doesn't cling to me.

A skinny beta boy weaves his way through the crowd and stops several arms' lengths away from the leader.

"Boss, Ricky's dead," he says.

Morwenna freezes before twisting her fists in my shirt and digging her knees into my chest.

"Who killed him?" I snarl.

He was mine. Mine to beat, torture, and maul for as long as I wanted, until I decided he'd suffered enough to die and go to hell. Whoever stole my revenge will suffer.

"Let me guess. You go by the name The Dreadnought now, yeah? Ricky knew you'd be coming for him, but it looks like you're too late, Russt. Somebody else got to him first," Scowl says with a smirk.

I roll my shoulders as my hatred extends to every male standing beside this scumbag.

"Fine, then. You're a poor second, but I guess you'll have to do for now," I respond.

When he finally processes my words, his face and neck redden in anger.

"Why, you—"

He makes the biggest—and the last—mistake of his life and steps toward me. I bury my fist so deep into his face dozens of bones snap and blood spurts from his ears. He flies backward. His body slams into the men behind him. He doesn't get back up.

Two alphas attack with pathetic battle cries. I brace one arm around the back of Morwenna's thighs and duck low and to the side, accepting the first man's punch in her place. Pain radiates through my side, adding more fuel to my rage. I plant my feet, swing from the hips, and clock the man under the chin, following through until he flies backward and takes out a group of idiots on his way down.

The next man isn't much smarter. I block his punch with ease and shatter his shin with a kick. He falls with a scream.

Only a handful of men rush toward me. The rest scatter like cockroaches.

Using only my fists and feet, I kill every male willing to risk their lives for the monsters running this little shitshow. The last alpha lies on the deck clutching his broken leg and groaning. I cover him with my shadow. He squints up at me. The moment he recognizes me, I stomp his skull until the only noise coming from him is the squishing of his brain. His heels stop tapping on the deck.

Silence descends. Even the breeze stops as I survey the damage.

It isn't enough. Rage still consumes my heart. I stomp toward the stairs, needing confirmation of Ricky's death.

"No, stop. Russt, please," Morwenna begs as she twists and fights my hold.

I slap her ass and start up to the second level.

"Say my name again and I'll rut you on the stairs," I snarl.

She sobs and punches my lower back. I hiss and cup the back of her leg. The hem of her shorts rides up. I tease my fingertips under the material. She digs her nails into my flesh and goes statue still.

I reach the top of the stairs and ignore her attempts to stifle her growing sobs, my anger building as she sheds tears for her trash father and his trashier friends.

The stench of death punches into my nostrils as I step into his den. A pool of blood surrounds his legs on the other side of the kitchen doorway.

Nostalgia tries to worm its way into my heart as I stalk across the home that hosted so many beautiful moments of my youth, but the space looks nothing like it used to.

The furniture seems decades older instead of just a few years. Only one light works in the living room. Every trace of a woman's touch is gone. No pictures on the walls. No books on the side table. No rug on the floor. No pillows on the couch.

It seems the rumors about the omega over my shoulder are true: she's truly broken. No female of the brotherhood would allow the alpha of the house, whether he be their mate, father, or sibling, to live in such squalor. I stop in the doorway to the kitchen.

Battered cooking utensils and pots lie scattered about the floor while the counter shines in the dull light. A bucket balances halfway in the sink. Filthy water drips from the rim, causing ripples in the crimson puddle on the floor.

My damp chin reminds me of Morwenna's wet hair.

She trembles and digs her nails deeper into my back.

Sprawled on his side with holes in his forearm, side, temple, and throat, Ricky stares up at us with lifeless eyes. A drawer handle sticks out of his clenched fist.

"He's dead. I killed him," Morwenna whispers against my back.

Emotions war within me. For a moment, concern slips through my defenses, but she was always good at using her sweetness to manipulate those around her, so I focus on the guilt in her tone and lean into my fury.

She has no right to mourn him. His death was too quick. Too clean. Too easy.

"You'll pay for that, little mouse," I snarl.

"No, I didn't mean—"

I slap her ass and spin on my heel.

"You owe me a debt you can never repay, Morwenna, so I suggest you keep that pretty mouth shut until I tell you to open it. Unless you'd like an audience? We can stop on the main deck," I taunt as I walk down the hallway.

She shakes her head and sobs through clenched teeth. I clear the stairs and traverse through the muck toward the rear of the ship. My boots squish with every step until I lunge over the railing and balance across the uppermost beam connecting the vessels. My little mouse squeaks and wraps her arms around me as the waves crash far below us. The top of her head bops against the upper slope of my ass with every step.

I loosen my grip on her legs just to enjoy her squeal of alarm and the clutching of her hands as she grapples for a better grip.

She doesn't relax when I step onto the next craft. The smallest vessel in the conglomerate, and too damaged to float on its own, the shell of a once magnificent ship holds the most dangerous areas of the entire city. No alpha worth his weight would waste his strength or resources to settle here, but power- hungry betas and people too tweaked out to control themselves lurk in the shadows.

I join them for a few minutes, stomping through the rusty maze long enough to lose any potential tails before heading toward the ship on the other side. My little mouse never loosens her grip. She shivers every time a psychotic scream or maniacal laugh bounces off the walls.

I smile as a commotion grows behind us, the general population reacting to my omega's lingering scent.

She's close to her first heat, but her pheromones carry a note of incompleteness. I can't wait to lock her in my den and wash away the stink to enjoy her scent without distractions. When I realize a gentleness creeps into my soul, I snarl and focus on the smell of her father's blood wafting from her clothes. This female isn't the girl of my dreams anymore. She's the mastermind behind my demise and the reason I lost my parents.

I climb the hull of the next ship, using the holes caused by rust, grab the railing with one hand, and vault over the top to land feet first on the deck. Three beta guards shout and rush toward me. I pull three sacks out of my pocket and toss them at their chests. They catch them and return to their posts as I walk across the deck to the opposite railing.

I take the rickety, rust eaten steps on the outside of the hull and enjoy the tightening of Morwenna's arms around me. Her hair whips around in the wind as it dries, tapping at the back of my knees and the sides of my thighs, but the clothes between us remain obnoxiously wet.

I jump from the staircase, clear the space between the vessels, and skirt along the narrow ledge around the aft of my ship. My tiny mouse's delicate fingers dig into my abdominals as she secures her hold on me. I kick the hidden hatch with the toes of my boots in the day's designated pattern.

The guard on the inside swings it open and checks my face before shuffling back and giving me space to squeeze through. I reward him with a nod before heading down the hall.

As the door shuts out the sound of the wind and waves, the gentle hum of electricity flowing through the lights and the distant rush of water running through pipes become the loudest sounds.

I take my time weaving through the maze of halls, building her apprehension and giving her a quick tour of my accomplishments, but when I start up the stairs toward the main gathering area, the tension drains from her body. She never releases her hold on my torso, but her legs go so lax the toes of her slippers bop against me with every step.

A small sound escapes from her throat. I can't decipher what it means.

She nuzzles into my lower back.

I turn into the long, empty hall to my den, but freeze with my hand on the door as disbelief spears through me.

Away from the ambient noise, I hear her soft purr for the first time. She sighs and rubs her cheek against my shirt.

Fury rips through me.

She won't soften my heart or lessen my need for revenge by playing such underhanded tricks. I won't cave to her, no matter how low she stoops.

She'll pay for reawakening the longing in my heart.