Page 33 of Psycho Alphas: Part Two

The entrance hall was silent and cold.

I sat in one of the armchairs still in the corner beside a dead fireplace. Rogue and Thistle were gone, and it was eerily silent in here. The scent of blood still lingered in the air from the run-in with Bella’s pack.

Since the Misfits had only just got back into the security system, they hadn’t been out yet. That meant I’d got here first to pick through the mess, bagging all the larger chunks of torn up body so no one else had to deal with it.

On the table beside me was a small pocket knife with Thistle’s scent, the small sketchbook I’d bought for her, the art of a storm Bella had ripped from it, and scattered pieces of ripped up Bunny. Most of it had been flung across the marble floor during the fight, so it was only the storm sketch that was edged with blood.

I turned Bunny’s head in my hand, glaring at the clouds of stuffing desperately trying to escape. “Bet they’re having a great time without us…”

Of course they were. It was Rogue. She’d been obsessed with him from the start. There was no date he could fuck up enough that would make her love him any less.

I’d already opened an app on my phone, watching recent transactions. Rogue, it turned out, had my bank PIN. The piece of pewter in his neck had been doing a lot more heavy lifting than I imagined.

I wanted toknowif Thistle was happy, though—not guess. Instead, whenever my grip on the bond loosened, I could feel Bella and the other six Alphas lurking, like shadows in my consciousness. It made me sick every time I sensed them.

I made myself check in on the bond, though, and found it still roiling with sickness.

I knew Rogue had taken members of my security team with him, but it brought me comfort knowing that the recent death of three Alphas had left Bella’s pack far too broken to come for me or Thistle.

It would happen, though. I was sure.

I glanced at the bloodstained storm Thistle had drawn. Bella had torn it from the sketchbook as she’d ripped Bunny to shreds.

I needed her dead.

I shut my eyes, inhaling Thistle’s scent, ignoring the buzzing from my pocketed phone. It was blowing up with updates from Callum. They were sorting out another few layers of security, and my contacts were working on getting information on the whereabouts of Bella’s pack.

Doyle, my contact with the unit investigating the Ring, told me they hadn’t been back to her main residence.

That was concerning.

The mansion felt strange in Thistle’s absence, like she’d altered the makeup of the whole place since the first time she’d stepped foot inside. Rogue shouldn’t have taken her away from here.

I loosened my jaw, carefully thumbing fluff back into Bunny’s decapitated head.

Red tinged my vision as the faint scents from the Alphas who’d stepped foot in my home—to hurt my Omega—tangled in the air around me.

I thought of Christina—the young beta woman I’d managed to free from this nightmare, the one I’d just seen die in the video Bella had made just to taunt me.

I had to sort that out, too: the body of a young woman a state away, with no one to know what had happened. She’d hated it here, had never settled after I’d bought her in an auction like I had bought Thistle. She’d left as soon as she’d had the strength to start a new life.

She needed a dignified burial, but nowhere near me, or this place.

The Misfits were good at sensitive stuff like that, but I didn’t want them near it. How far might it set them back if they learned about her fate?

I could find out if she had friends in the area—the family she’d wanted to build from scratch…

I took a breath, trying to steady the hand holding Bunny’s head.

It happened.

Every day, it happened. Every day I crossed those I couldn’t save…

Footsteps ripped me from the precipice of my breakdown, and I looked up to see Callum walking in. He looked like he was passing through, but when he spotted me, he made his way over.

I caught the slightly clinical smell of scent dampener on him as he approached. He shook a messy sweep of sandy blond hair from his face as he perched on the arm of the sofa in front of me.

I’d been texting him, but a worried part of me I hadn’t even clocked, relaxed as I saw him safe. “You alright?” I asked, glad my voice was steady.