Chapter 3

Alastor

“What the fuck was that?” I snap the second Indie’s out of earshot.

I can’t get the vision of her red, tear-stained face out of my mind. Every time I blink, I see her hunched over, her hands covered in bloody cuts, her eyes downcast and filled with tears. I can’t stop seeing the sick gleam on Idris’s face as he watched her on her knees at his feet, likely getting off on her pain.

The man himself scoffs, ignoring my question entirely as he turns to face his assistant, who also functions as the house manager. She whimpers under his penetrating glare. Her scent is usually like moldy coffee grounds. Acrid and wrong. But right now, that scent is heightened, giving it a burnt quality that has me swallowing a gag.

“Why are you still standing here? Get this shit cleaned up properly,” he barks, making Lilith jump so high she nearly trips in her stupid stilettos. Any other time, any other day, I’d smile at seeing the bitch get her ass chewed out. But not today. Not after that.

“Yes, sir,” she simpers, her previous condescension nowhere to be seen in a room full of alphas. “Right away, sir.” She spins away, practically sprinting to the service quarters. Probably to find someone else to sweep and mop up the remnants of Indie’s abuse.

Turning back to the four of us, he levels us with a withering glare. “Have something to say?” He grunts, crossing his arms over his inflated chest with a cocked brow.

I bite my tongue, at war with myself like always. There are so many goddamned things I’d like to say right now. So many things I’d like to do. Kill him, for one. Take him down so we can all finally get some peace. So we can fucking breathe.

But I can’t do that.

None of us can.

There’s too much at stake.

That’s why I feel Malachi stiffen to my left, his throat rumbling with a barely suppressed growl. Calix isn’t faring much better on my right. His entire body is rigid with tension, his muscles bulging beneath his tight white button-down.

Even without a pack bond, I know these men—my friends. My family. I know the battle raging inside their minds and bodies. I feel it with every breath I take and every pump of my heart.

This is killing us.

But we also know the repercussions of speaking up. Of defending her or drawing attention to the way his callous abuse has each of us ready to snap. It’ll only make things worse for Indie, and that’s not something any of us will risk.

Not that we’d ever admit it.

I suck in a sharp breath, hearing the sound echoed by my brothers in everything but blood. “No, sir,” we say in unison.

His lip tips up in a slow smirk, his eyes shifting from us to the direction Indie went just moments ago. My fists clench so hard my bones pop.

I don’t want him anywhere near her—even his eyes.

Idris brings his hand up, spearing his long beard with his fingers. He absently combs through it in a gesture meant to put us on edge.

It’s a power move.

Make the enemy wait. Remind them they’re nothing. Their time is unimportant. Their desires and words are irrelevant. His eyes narrow as he cocks his head. My hackles rise, already hating the next words that will slip from his calculating, sick mouth.

“Pretty little thing. Bet she’s tight,” he murmurs.

Malachi makes a choking sound in the back of his throat, but we all know he’s trying to cover a growl. He’s the youngest of all of us and is struggling to control his alpha. He’s not as practiced with stifling his instincts, something required of all of us to continue to live here– and we refuse to not live here. Not while she’s here.

But even I have trouble swallowing my need to stab this motherfucker in the eye.

“Too bad she’s worthless,” Idris spits.

“The fuck?” Cai snaps. From the corner of my eye, I catch him swallowing thickly and covering his mouth with his tattooed hand. I keep my gaze locked on Idris, but my instincts are sharp. I know what’s going on in every corner of this room.

Thank Orym, she’s not around to hear this.

My muscles ache with the urge to go to her. Check on her. Take care of her. Make sure she’s okay. Remind her she’s not alone. I need it like I need a deep breath of clean air and a shot of whiskey.

My eyes flick to the upper corner of the room where the camera is. I know Koen’s watching, and I need him to be our eyes and ears, like always.

I keep my gaze on the camera and discreetly jut my chin in the direction Indie disappeared. We can’t do shit to intervene where Idris is concerned, but I swear on the Gods, if Lilith is using this distraction to further her vendetta against Indigo, I’ll gut her myself.

“She’s a lowly beta,” Idris scoffs, gaining my attention as he continues. “Her bloodlines are insignificant and muddy. She’s nothing,” he mutters, waving a dismissive hand in her direction.

“You don’t know she’s a beta,” my father murmurs. My eyes widen. I’d almost forgotten he was here. Out of Idris’s entire council, my father, his second, is the least likely to speak against him.

He also has too much to lose.

Idris shoots my father an indignant glare, saying everything we all know without speaking.

Andromeda Indigo Grey is the child of beta and alpha parents. There is no genetic way she could ever be anything but a beta or possibly an alpha. But given her tiny, delicate stature and submissive disposition—we all know what she is. Even if she’s yet to present, there is no biological way she’s an omega.

No matter how much I wish that weren’t the case.

Before the world changed and the environment became toxic, things were different. Bloodlines were healthy and strong. Omegas were just as commonplace as any other designation. Everyone lived harmoniously.

Packbonds and mates were the norm. Healthy babies were born regularly into loving families and packs. The economy was strong. The water was clean, the food was plenty, and the air was fresh.

The world was safe.

Then everything fell apart.

Now, due to a genetic mutation to which the cause is still unknown, omegas can only be born from strong alpha and omega pairings, making them the rarest designation in all seven territories.

That, combined with all the trafficking that began during the Crash, there are hardly any omegas left today. It makes them precious. It also makes them the most coveted designation around, which means they are wholly unsafe in our already fucked up world.

“As I said,” Idris goes on, a disgusted sneer crossing his aging face. “ Mutt .”

The hissed word sends bile up my throat.

To say someone is a mutt-blood is equating them to filth. It’s also a term used by the lowest echelon of society. Those who chose sexual partners based on breeding alone, for the sole reason of creating the purest form of alphas and omegas.

He couldn’t be more wrong. Indie is anything but filth, and betas are just as cherished and valuable as anyone else.

Even worse is that he’s looking at her and thinking about breeding in the first place. It makes me more murderous toward the man than ever.

Calix scoffs, his will to remain silent finally unmatched by his anger. “And what of her sister? Is her blood insignificant filth, as well?”

Idris merely shrugs. “The child is only half mutt.”

“Holy shit,” Cai snaps. “How can you say that? She’s your daughter!” He steps forward, his body vibrating with rage. My hand shoots out, gripping his wrist before he can do anything that we’ll all likely live to regret. Including the child he’s defending.

“Why even sleep with her mother in the first place?” I rumble, my jaw ticking wildly. Indie and Rhea’s mother is a kind woman, if not a bit lost. But she’s just a beta. If Idris seeks purity, he’s going about it the wrong way.

Idris turns back toward us, finally removing his eyes from the vacant hall that leads toward the staff accommodations. Toward Indie’s room. A place I need to get to as soon as physically possible.

“The girl is half mine,” Idris smirks, sliding his hands into the pockets of his tailored slacks. “My blood is strong. Pure. Descended from the great Lavinia. It will wash out anything lesser with ease.” He shoots his sons a look. “As you both know.”

Calix stiffens, and Malachi curses under his breath. Idris chuckles. His eyes shine brightly, likely ready to deliver a cutting line that will have one of his sons losing their shit here and now.

Luckily for us, he’s interrupted by a few staff members quickly darting from the hall behind us, their hands full of various cleaning products. They abruptly halt when they take in the scene before them.

“Oh,” one whimpers. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Savas, sir. We thought you were in a meeting.”

Idris glances down at his watch, his brows lifting a fraction. He mutters something under his breath and nods. His eyes lift to my father’s, and he jerks his chin toward the stairs before gliding past us.

“You will be in the cellar tonight, Malachi,” Idris commands. Cai groans quietly in response. “Perhaps that will teach you to keep your insolent mouth shut in my presence.”

The three of us wait for them to part before daring to move, knowing we’ve just been dismissed. My ears home in on the steady thumps of their heavy footsteps as they make their way to the secured office where we spent our morning and the better part of the afternoon. The second we hear the office door click closed, we exhale a collective breath, our bodies deflating as one.

The scents from five strong alphas in varying states of anger still mingle in the air along with the odors from the cleaning products, irritating my flared nostrils, but above all is the rotten berry scent Indie left behind.

“Fuck,” Cai chokes, whirling on Calix and me. “He’s losing it.”

I huff a sarcastic laugh. “He’s always been a psychopath.”

Calix hisses. “Not here.” His eyes scan the foyer, now full of anxious staff as they work to clean up the mess I’ve no doubt Lilith fucking Resna created. That cunt will get her reckoning. Soon. Mark my words.

We watch as the women quickly dust, vacuum, and mop to clean up the remaining fragments of shattered glass from the bright marble floor.

“You need to go check on her,” Cai whispers. I arch a brow at him, silently saying the words I’ve been biting back for so long. His jaw ticks, and his throat bobs, but he says nothing.

“Coward,” I murmur, shaking my head. I look at Calix, who has his hands fisted so tightly, I’m surprised his fingers haven’t broken, yet he’s still frozen in place with his mouth practically sewn shut. I scoff. “The both of you.”

I turn, giving them my back and letting them know how disappointed I am in them. My gaze snags on one of the women on her hands and knees, much like Indie had been, except this woman is wearing protective rubber gloves as she works a bristled brush back and forth, scrubbing blood stains from the white rug under the table.

Indie’s blood.

Vomit fills my mouth, and my vision goes hazy. I vaguely hear someone talking to me, shoving my shoulder to get my attention. I can’t understand their words, and I don’t care to.

I need to get to her.

Unable to resist any longer, I ignore my brothers and their attempts to drag me outside where they can speak freely. Instead, I spin on my heel, heading toward the only place my body seems to want to be right now.

With her.

Indie.