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Daryl grunted, a scream muffled by the silver duct tape.

He was hanging by his wrists from a chain in the ceiling, feet barely touching the ground. His face was already swollen, one eye purpled shut. Blood trickled from his nose down to his chin.

My fist connected with his side again. The impact jarred up my arm, but the sound he made, a choked gasp of pain, was deeply satisfying.

Something inside me snapped. All the rage I’d been holding back since the cruise, since watching Mackenzie try to pretend she wasn’t terrified, since learning what he’d done to her during heat. How even now, she second guessed herself. She had agonized over the cockwarming conversation for a solid week. All of it, all the rage came pouring out.

I hit him again. And again. My fists found his ribs, his stomach, his sides. I added my pain to it. Each punch carried years of my own frustrations, my pain at being overlooked, dismissed, unwanted.

But mostly, I hit him for her.

For every time he made her feel small. For every time he controlled what she ate and made her feel fat. For every time he made her believe she wasn’t good enough.

I wasn’t aware of stopping. At some point, my arms just wouldn’t work anymore. My knuckles were raw. I was panting, air tearing through my lungs.

Daryl hung limply from his chains, his breath coming in wet, ragged gasps.

“Feel better?” Ren asked, sliding his arm around my waist, pulling me close to him. I nodded, unable to speak. My whole body was shaking. But it didn’t really make me feel better. Being held by my alpha did.

Nico pushed off the wall and assessed Daryl with a critical eye. Then he completely dismissed him.

“I think we should head upstairs to the Vig for drinks,” he said, breaking the heavy silence. “And get your omega some ice for his hands.”

Nico Front, owner of the Pax nightclub complex in the Mired District, one of the scariest alphas I’d ever met, smiled at me. Like he was proud.

Justice wrapped an arm around me, guiding me away from Daryl. “Nice punch,” he said softly.

“What about him?” I managed to ask, glancing back.

Nico sniffed and tugged at his cuffs. “He can enjoy the hospitality of the Pax for a little bit longer. His pack ditched him. I want to see if they come back.”

We left him there, bleeding in the dark. I should have felt guilty. Maybe that would hit tomorrow.

As we climbed the stairs, club music pounded through the walls. Justice was keeping pace with Nico, and Ren had a hand on my back.

Mackenzie was having a girls’ night with her best friend, Jillian. Our plan had been to just chill and play video games when Justice got a call. Ren had been wary when Justice excused himself. That didn’t happen often. He came back and said Nico Front had Daryl in a security room at the Pax and wanted to know if we wanted to pay him a visit. I hadn’t expected that they would take me with them.

I flexed my hands. Ice was probably a really good idea.

We entered the Vig from the staff door in the back. It was the exclusive VIP bar inside the Pax, and it was mostly empty when we walked in. The space was all polished wood and leather, with low lighting that somehow made everything look expensive.

A tall man in a tailored suit crossed the room toward us, his presence commanding attention.

“Justice, good to see you,” he said, shaking Justice’s hand.

“Star, thanks for letting us use the space downstairs,” Justice replied. “You know Ren. This is my omega, Theo.”

Star Knightbridge.TheStar Knightbridge. We had met him briefly that first night at Sanctum. I would never get over how Justice knew all the famous people in Port Haven.

He nodded at me but didn’t extend his hand. Most alphas didn’t touch other alphas’ omegas. It usually annoyed me to no end. Treating omegas like breakable prizes was obnoxious. Now, there was an odd sense of pride. I was Justice’s omega and that meant something to people like Star.

“Come sit with me,” Star said, leading us to a curved booth in the corner. Nico whispered something in Star’s ear and stepped away. Justice seated me between him and Ren. Their solid warmth on either side kicked off that small, marshmallow feeling.

A server appeared almost instantly with a tray of cocktails.

“So,” Star said, settling into business mode, “we should have dinner some night. I’d like your input on some revitalization projects for the Mired District. Small business initiatives, that sort of thing.”

“I’d be interested.” Justice sipped his cocktail.