Chapter 15

fifteen

KITANIA

The cold metal of the gun pressed against my temple, sending shivers down my spine. My heart thundered in my chest, battering against my sternum like it was desperate to escape. Tears streamed down my cheeks as his hot breath tickled my ear.

“Kitania,” he murmured, the sound of my name dark and menacing on his tongue.

His hand tightened around my throat, cutting off my air supply as he pinned me against him, my back to his chest. I clawed at his powerful fingers, trying to loosen his old, desperate to breathe.

“Are you going to behave, pet? Or will I need to use my bark on you to force your obedience?”

I tried to speak, to beg, but no words came out. He pressed the gun in deeper, and I closed my eyes, silently praying for it all to end.

I shot up in bed, gasping for air. My heart pounded so hard I thought it might burst through my ribcage. Sweat clung to my body, making the sheets stick to me like a second skin.

“No, no, no,” I whimpered, clawing at the fabric wrapped around my legs, restraining me, holding me down. I thrashed wildly, my mind still caught between nightmare and reality.

In my panic, I tumbled off the bed, landing hard on my hip. A cry of pain bubbled up in my throat, but I swallowed it down, biting my lip until I tasted blood. Years of training had taught me to stay quiet, to endure. Tears freely tracked down my cheeks, leaving thick, wet trails.

I sat up slowly, rubbing the sore spot. It throbbed, and I knew it would bloom into an ugly bruise by morning. Just another mark to add to my collection.

“Get it together, Kit,” I whispered to myself, running a shaky hand through my sweat-dampened hair. My heart was still racing, and I could feel phantom hands encircling my throat. I swallowed. Hard.

Looking around the bedroom, I tried to ground myself in the present. The penthouse. I was in the Cristenello brothers’ penthouse. Safe. I repeated the word in my head like a mantra, but it felt hollow.

Safety was a luxury I’d never known, not really. Even here, in this opulent room with its silk sheets and plush rug, I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was all temporary. That at any moment, the other shoe would drop, and I’d be back in that nightmare—only this time, I wouldn’t wake up. There’d be no rescue. No saviors. No escape.

I hugged my knees to my chest, rocking slightly as I tried to calm my breathing. The city lights filtered through the sheer curtains, casting eerie shadows across the room. In the dim light, every corner seemed to hide a threat.

“You’re okay,” I murmured, digging my nails into my palms. The sharp pain helped clear my head a little. “You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay.”

But was I? The nightmare refused to fade into obscurity, clinging to the recesses of my mind, haunting me. I could still feel the ghost of that gun, the cold metal threatening to end me with the pull of a trigger. I shuddered, squeezing my eyes shut against the flood of memories trying to overwhelm me.

The things I’d done. That I’d been forced to do…

Oh God.

I didn’t want to think about it. About any of it.

I needed... something. A distraction. Comfort. The thought of staying in this room, alone with my thoughts, made my chest tighten with anxiety. But the idea of seeking out one of the brothers terrified me just as much.

Trust didn’t come easily. How could it, after everything? But a small part of me, a part I tried desperately to ignore, craved connection. Warmth. The feeling of safety I’d glimpsed in fleeting moments since coming here.

I stood on shaky legs, wrapping my arms around myself. No… Staying in this room wasn’t an option, so I compromised.

“Just go get a glass of water,” I whispered, trying to convince myself. “That’ll help. Then back to bed.”

Grabbing my new favorite blanket, I pulled it over my shoulders and left the room. As I padded down the hallway, though, I knew I was lying to myself. I was too scared, too shaken. Sleep wouldn’t come easily tonight, if at all. The shadows of my past were too close, too real.

My bare feet were silent against the cool marble as I headed downstairs. The penthouse was eerily quiet, the only sound the faint hum of the city far below. I made my way to the kitchen, my heart refusing to settle to a normal pace. Every shifting shadow had me on edge, making my breath ragged and uneven.

On the verge of a panic attack, I hyper focused on what I was doing. I opened the cabinet and reached for a cup, the glass clinking softly. It had been four days since the guys had taken me shopping, and though I’d only been here a week, I was already learning where things were kept. The thought sent a confusing mix of comfort and unease through me. I hadn’t had a home—a real home—in ages, and it felt surprisingly good to be settling in here with these enigmatic men. But my growing familiarity seemed like a double-edged sword.

How many times had I let myself long for something only for it to be ripped away?

This is only temporary.

Once the guys realized how broken I was, they wouldn’t want me, and I’d be out on my ass again. Just the thought of it sent a fresh wave of tears blurring my vision.

Blinking them back, I blew out a breath, pushed down the thoughts, and focused on filling the cup from the fridge dispenser before taking a long sip. The water was cool against my parched throat.

I took my time, lingering in the kitchen, knowing sleep would probably evade me for the rest of the night. Tapping my fingers along the glass, I debated exploring.

I didn’t have to go back to my room if I wasn’t ready. Right?

Decision made, I padded deeper into the penthouse, trying to get my bearings.

The guys had given me a brief tour the other day, and my mind was still reeling from the sheer opulence of it all. Four levels of luxury, each more impressive than the last. I couldn’t help but feel small and out of place among such grandeur.

My fingers trailed along the smooth leather of the couches as I passed through the enormous living room. The mingled scents of the Alphas hung in the air, a calming mix that helped soothe some of the stress and tension I was carrying after that horrible dream.

More like a memory, really.

Shaking off that thought, I wandered down the hallway, trying to catalog everything they’d shown me and remember where it all was. There’d been a game room with gleaming pool tables and the latest gaming consoles; a theater with plush recliners that looked more comfortable than any bed I’d ever slept in; a personal gym that put most professional facilities to shame. My bibliophile heart had nearly stopped when I saw the library, floor-to-ceiling shelves stocked with more books than I could read in a lifetime.

Each of the guys had their own office, tailored to their individual tastes and needs. I’d caught glimpses of dark wood and leather in Dimitri’s space, while Tommas’ was brighter, filled with vibrant art and a wall of screens. The bedrooms were equally impressive, though I’d only seen them from the doorways, too shy to step inside those private spaces. Marco’s room was a bit messy but artfully decorated in deep blues, with black and white prints of various vehicles matted and framed, while Gio’s room was spectacularly clean, done in shades of grey with red accents.

But it was the Omega suite we’d passed that truly took my breath away. Double doors of rich mahogany stood closed at the end of one hallway, and my heart raced when they’d offered to show me inside. I’d chickened out, mumbling some excuse about seeing it another time.

The thought of that suite was too overwhelming to process. Having a space of my own, a bedroom and a nest, was a fantasy I wasn’t ready to bring to life, not because I didn’t want it, but because none of this felt real yet. None of it felt… permanent.

I couldn’t let myself look at it, knowing there was a strong possibility that it would all disappear. Allowing myself to dream, to hope, to truly picture myself as their Omega, and then losing it all, would break me—for good this time.

A whimper slipped up my throat, and I hugged my blanket tighter around my shoulders, seeking comfort. Which is exactly why I went in search of the small nest-like spaces scattered throughout the penthouse. Cozy nooks filled with pillows and throws, perfect for curling up and hiding away from the world. I headed for the one down the hall that I’d noted earlier, desperately needing a haven. Nestled near a vast window, it had an amazing view of the never-sleeping city twinkling below.

Blanket trailing behind me like a cape, I padded softly through the house. Until a sudden movement in my peripheral caused me to flinch, startling me so badly I jumped and bit my tongue. I whipped around, eyes wide, searching for the source as I swallowed down the coppery tang.

A dark shape loomed in the shadows, and I stifled a scream. But then I heard it—the soft jingle of metal tags. Beretta’s massive form emerged from the darkness, his nubby tail wagging lazily.

“Jesus,” I breathed, clutching my chest and letting out a shaky laugh. “You scared me, boy.”

Beretta traipsed over, his nails clicking against the hardwood floor. He came right up to me, nosing at my hand. I tentatively scratched behind his ears, my fingers sinking into his silky soft fur.

“Sorry, big guy,” I whispered. “I don’t have any bacon for you this time.”

He huffed, almost as if he understood, but didn’t seem too bothered by my lack of treats. Instead, he pressed his warm bulk against my thigh. It was comforting in a way I hadn’t expected.

“Wanna come with me? I’d feel safer with you at my side,” I murmured, surprising myself.

I ran my hand along his back before I kept walking, happy when he kept pace next to me as I headed for the nest.

But as I rounded the corner, I froze.

Tommas was there, sprawled across the pillows, shirtless and bathed in moonlight. The soft glow from a nearby lamp cast highlights and shadows over the tanned planes of his tattooed chest, accentuating the definition of his muscles. He was completely engrossed in a book—a beautiful golden hardback with an ornate dragon on the cover.

My breath caught in my throat. I shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be intruding on him like this. It felt too... intimate. I bit my lip, trying to back away silently, but Beretta’s tags jingled once more, betraying our presence.

Tommas looked up, peering over the top of his dark-framed reading glasses. His green eyes locked onto mine, sparkling with surprise and something else I couldn’t quite name.

“Butterfly?” he murmured softly, his voice a low rumble that sent unexpected warmth pooling in my belly.

I opened my mouth, but no words came out. What could I possibly say to explain why I was here, interrupting his down time?