Page 177 of Psycho Alphas: Part Two

KNOX

The marble floors gleamed beneath my knees, reflecting the warm lights above.

I’d been here before.

Blood tore through my veins like lava, setting every nerve on fire. My instincts were haywire as I finally faced the Alpha I’d been chasing for as long as I could remember.

He had his hands on her—hands soaked in the blood of a thousand lives. He was responsible for more pain than I could imagine. This house—the Misfits, with the scars they would carry for the rest of their lives—was the smallest slice of that agony.

My ribs ached from the fight with his guards, each breath dragging against bruises. I’d been searching for her in the Misfits’ quarters so I could offer her the bite.

The start of a dream I never thought I’d have.

I shoved the thought away. If I lingered on it, it would break me. I couldn’t afford that.

She was so strong.

I could see the fear clouding her eyes, but she was straight-backed, not flinching as Carrion tried to make his claim.

He was talking again, each word an attempt to unravel my sanity. His voice grated, low and measured, a predator’s rumble that didn’t need to rise to be a threat.

“Ace Maverick. A man with an interesting history. And Rogue… your parents were quite prolific…”

I took a breath, running my fingers over the rugged object in my hand. The edges pressed sharp into my palm. It was cool stones set against metal, a weight that felt too small to matter, but enough to decide everything.

I tilted my head just enough to slide my gaze to it for a heartbeat.

I had to know which one I held.

A glance was enough to confirm what I needed.

“I take no issue with sharing a bond with a Manzo—but Knox Wilde?” I clenched my jaw, meeting his eyes through that mask. The bone-white surface gave nothing back, his gaze unreadable behind it, still somehow pinning me in place.

“An Alpha dragged in from the gutter,” he said. “Bought in an arena game by Rogue, and somehow, you managed to claw your way back into relevance.”

“He’s mine now,” Thistle said. “You don’t have to take him away.”

“I can provide other gifts,” Carrion said, turning his mask toward Ace. “You think I would consider this if I wasn’t offered sacrifice? And I would like some entertainment.”

I could read between those lines.

He wanted me dead, and from the way he was looking between Rogue and Ace, I knew how.

I rolled the object between my thumb and forefinger, praying I had the right one, and felt the stab of pain against my skin.

It wasn’t enough. Not yet.

Acehadto know first.

“You don’t need to kill him,” Thistle whispered, pleading.

I dared a glance toward Ace, hoping Carrion had turned his attention to her. When I caught his eye, my gaze dropped to my hand, and his followed.

His ice-blue eyes met mine once more, and he rolled his neck, looking back at Thistle. For just a flicker, I swear I saw the faintest shadow of a smile twitch at his lips.

This was the play.

All or nothing.