Page 87 of Psycho Alphas: Part Two

“Yeh… That was it.” Ace’s smile widened like the fond memory was returning. He glanced over to us again. “If I were a betting man, I’d guess… not your thing, Rogue?”

Rogue relaxed, eyes sweeping between them, holstering his gun and folding his arms. “Sounds foul.”

Ace’s eyes drifted to me.

I shrugged.

I’d do it.

I’d done worse on trips to visit trafficking members when I could get away with it. Ace was right, though. I’d taken Rogue sometimes to help him get the rage out of his system, but there was always a point where he’d make his way outside for a smoke.

When it was just me and them…

My only issue was that I didn’t know if Roman Vane was the kind of Alpha who truly deserved it.

Still, he wasn’t a fucking cherub, that much was clear, and I was interested enough in what we were watching that I wouldn’t interfere.

Ace looked back down at Roman. “How strong isyourstomach, do you think?”

“Please…” Roman begged. “I preserved everything. Kept it the way you’d like it. The others would have wrecked the place—you know that.”

Ace was grinning, his eyes flashing dangerously, and I was watching the way he turned the sceptre in his hand. It was impossible, with Ace, not to be acutely aware that the clawed end of it was inches from Roman’s eyes.

“Run, little weasel…” Ace’s voice was quiet enough I barely caught it.

There was silence for a moment, then Roman choked out an indistinguishable word, looking from Ace to us. I still had my gun trained on him.

“Wh-what?” he finally managed.

Ace’s sceptre brushed beneath his chin. “You have one minute.”

“What?”

“Run.”

“I…” Roman staggered to his feet, looking between us, clearly unsure if this was a trick.

“Fifty-nine… fifty-eight… fifty-seven?—”

Roman didn’t need another push. He launched toward the far hallway, where Ace’s old guards were waiting for a verdict, vanishing from sight and left us with nothing but the distant sound of rapid footfalls on marble.

Ace picked up the gun on the couch at last, then strolled toward a balcony window.

I hated that Iwascurious.

Curious enough to follow him to find out what, exactly, he was doing. He waited, and as he did, two security guards edged around the corner, peering into the room, looking as if they weren’t sure exactly how to proceed.

At my side, Ace perked up.

Ah.

From our vantage we could see Roman fleeing down the driveway, so terrified he tripped on his own feet part way down.

Ace hummed to himself quietly, aiming the gun and then, when Roman rocketed into the closed gate, he pulled the trigger, not aiming in any particular direction.

It didn’t hit Roman, and I don’t think it was meant to, but the Alpha’s squeal pierced my ears from here.

Roman gave up trying to find the gate’s latch and threw himself at the bars. Driven by pure terror he managed to fling himself over the thick barbs at the top without any hesitation.