Page 49 of The Violence of Love (The Black Market Omega #2)

Rhett

The lights hum overhead, casting sharp angles across the cold floor. I step inside, slow and heavy, like my body’s waiting for permission to keep moving. Every part of me aches—but not as much as what’s underneath.

Oli’s slumped against the leg press machine, tangled in a mess of cables like a marionette abandoned mid-pose.

One arm is caught above his head, twisted awkwardly in the harness.

There’s a gash on his temple where I cracked him—swollen, dried blood crusting down the side of his face.

His chest shines with sweat. His lips are cracked.

He looks up when he hears me. “Water,” he croaks, voice like broken glass. “Please.”

He’s been in here two days. No food. No water. Still conscious. Still watching me. He’s young. Strong. He’ll bounce back. That’s the thing about alphas—we don’t stay down long. We come back harder .

I walk past him without a word and head to the water cooler. I pull a paper cup from the stack. The water dribbles out, filling it halfway before sputtering out.

Then I return to the young alpha. He straightens as best he can when he sees the cup.

I crouch in front of him, knees cracking from the strain. I take a sip.

It’s cold and clean. A mercy he doesn’t get.

Oli stares at me, confusion flickering across his bruised face. “Are you gonna kill me?”

I let the silence stretch. Savor his fear. His anger. Then I shake my head. “No.”

His eyes narrow, uncertain. “Then why keep me here?”

I swirl the last inch of water in the cup. “Because I hate you,” I say, voice quiet but steady. “And I wanted you to know that.” I down the rest. Crumple the cup. Toss it aside.

Oli watches it skid across the floor, then turns back to me with wide, panicked eyes. “Please, don’t hurt Charlie,” he pleads, licking his lips. “None of this was his fault. He didn’t?—”

“You think I’d hurt him?” My voice spikes. “ I’m not the one who made him fucking bleed , asshole!”

Oli’s eyes flare. Then he growls, “I know about you. What you did to Myrick.”

I freeze. “What the fuck do you think I did to Myrick?”

“Brock told me.” He swallows, dry and loud. “You put him in the hospital. He said?—”

“Brock thinks I hurt Myrick?” My anger turns into gut-wrenching pain, horrified that my brother would think that of me. “ You think I’d hurt him?”

“Yes,” Oli snaps. “Brock said you lost your mind. That you attacked your old packmate, too.”

Fresh rage cuts through me, and I yell, “A year ago, my brother was a drugged-out piece of shit who refused to even speak to me during my lowest moments!” My voice rips through my throat.

“He has no idea what happened! I called him. Texted. Begged him to call me back. I needed his help after finding my packmate beating the ever-loving fuck out of Myrick!”

Oli goes quiet, his anger fading.

“Jason had Myrick pinned on the kitchen floor, pounding him over and over again!” My voice cracks, the memory clawing at me.

“I tackled the bastard. Slammed his skull into the fucking floor until he finally stopped moving. Then I held Myrick until the ambulance came.” My gaze drifts.

I see it all again. “His hair was soaked in blood. His eyes swollen shut. He could barely breathe, and there was nothing I could fucking do.”

Tears sting, but I swallow them. He doesn’t get to see that. Hell, I shouldn’t have said as much as I did. But I’m tired and weak. Because of him .

“Rhett,” Oli says softly. Almost regretful. “I didn’t know.”

“Why the fuck would you?” I bite out.

“You should talk to Brock. Tell him?—”

“I tried .” My teeth flash.

“Yes,” he nods, dipping his head in a subtle display of submission. “But…why not now?”

“Why the hell would I tell anyone I let a monster like that into my home? That I ignored every sign, every bruise?”

Oli stares at the floor. Then nods again. “I get that.”

“And then,” my voice drops into a vicious growl, “I walk into Charlie’s room to find another piece-of-shit alpha trying to rip my mate’s throat out. All I wanted was to drag you into that kitchen and bash your fucking face in until there was nothing left.”

My anger takes over, and my fist slams into his face. His head snaps back.

I instantly regret it. Please, Charlie, don’t feel that through the bond.

“Don’t stop,” Oli grits, eyes squinting with pain. “I deserve it.”

“Fuck off,” I snarl at his pathetic attempt at self-pity. “Charlie’s in agony because of you.”

He looks up at me, dark eyes full of pain. “You think I wanted this? You think I wanted to hurt Charlie?”

I clench my fists then force them open, trying to collect myself. Because all I want to do is hit this fucker again.

“You don’t get it.” Oli exhales bitterly. “Charlie’s scent. His taste…” He closes his eyes, face twisting like the memory hurts. “I couldn’t stop myself.”

My eyes snap to his, sharp as a blade. “We all make choices,” I say flatly. “You marked my packmate. Now you live with the consequences.”

Oli turns away, jaw tight. “I can feel him,” he whispers, eyes locked on the floor. “Through the bond—I feel his pain. His love. He’s hurting.” His voice catches.

I rise slowly, every joint stiff, my body screaming from days without rest. Then I take a step back, but I don’t untie him. Not yet. Not until I’m sure I won’t put my hands on him again.

“You deserve to die for what you did,” I growl, my voice shaking.

I see the flicker of fury flash in Oli’s eyes—rage barely held in check—but he doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. He bites it down and submits, jaw locked tight. But it’s not remorse. It’s survival .

“Get cleaned up.” I jerk my chin toward the showers. “Charlie needs you.”

Oli’s head jerks up. Hope floods his face. “Did he ask for me?”

“He’s being ripped in half with pain!” I shout. “Myrick and Autry are doing everything they can. We all are, but I’m just one man! I can’t—” I choke on my next words and my chest heaves. “If you’ve got anything left to give, you better find it fast. Because your mate is burning up.”

Oli nods, jaw set. Grim. His expression is unreadable. “Yes, sir.”

My muscles tense at his pathetic attempt at respect, but I don’t have time to torture this fucker any longer. Charlie is in pain.

I crouch and start untying him. The knots are tight. I meant them to hurt. Bruises mar his arms and chest as the cords fall away.

The wrongness of this sits heavy on me, like ice. It feels like I’m unleashing something dangerous. Something I should’ve killed.

But Myrick wanted to date Oli, Autry clearly has some kind of affection for the young alpha, and now Charlie’s mated to the fucker.

I feel like I have no control over my pack.

Fear grips me as the last cord falls away, and I slam my hand against Oli’s throat, holding him in place.

He doesn’t resist or fight. He just lets me dominate him.

“If you so much as startle Charlie…” I squeeze.

Hard. He just takes it, letting me choke him until his cheeks flush red.

“If you scare him. Hurt him. Break him,” I snarl, my face inches from his, “I will drag you back here and pound you into a bloody pulp.”

Oli’s breathing is ragged, but he nods. No aggression. No defiance. Just submission.

I let go. “Wash up. Then get your ass in Charlie’s room.” And I walk out.

The hallway feels colder than before.

My feet thud against the floor as I head back toward Charlie’s room. My chest is tight, like something’s wrapped around my ribs and won’t let go. Every instinct in me is snarling, pacing, demanding I turn back and finish what I started. But I keep walking.

When I step through the doorway, the heat hits me first—then the scent. Pheromones. Fever, sweat, and slick. Charlie’s scent is manic again, making my cock pulse then harden. The chafed skin pulls tight across my shaft, and I wince. It stings, cutting right down to my balls.

“Yes.” Charlie moans. He’s on the bed, Myrick on top of him, hips rolling in tired, steady thrusts. Charlie’s eyes are shut. His mouth open, lost in the haze.

I palm my cock, wishing like hell I could knot him. But he’s not my mate, and I won’t be his first. Oli will be.

“Rhett?” Autry steps out of the bathroom, drying her hands on a towel. She looks so tired, hair a knotted mess and deep circles under her eyes. Thank god, she didn’t fall into her heat, too.

“Oli’s coming,” I say.

She nods, and I see it— relief . Like a weight dropped from her shoulders. But Myrick—when he looks at me over his shoulder, there’s something else in his eyes. Hope? And excitement .

My stomach twists.

That’s when it hits me—if I fight this, my pack will fall apart.

Oli’s not just Charlie’s mate. He’s a tether now. A lifeline. And if I want Charlie to live—if I want to keep Autry and Myrick from shattering under the grief of losing both Oli and Charlie—I have to bring him in.

Into my pack.

My throat closes up, and I feel like swallowing glass.

I could rip us all apart trying to keep control. Break Autry’s heart. Lose Myrick. Let Charlie die. All because I can’t stand the thought of letting that bastard near us.

Or—I can accept it.

Accept him .

And it really fucking sucks.

I step closer to the bed, then sit on the edge. I don’t collapse or slump. I plant my feet and steady myself, spine straight, jaw locked tight. Because if I let even one crack show, I don’t know what might come pouring out, and showing weakness right now won’t help anyone.

A few seconds later, the door creaks open behind me. Oli’s here. And whether I like it or not, everything’s about to change.