Page 7 of The Violence of Love (The Black Market Omega #2)

Oli

This place smells weird.

The air is thick with artificial perfumes, chemical cleaners, and floor polish. No trace of people, no fresh breeze—just tall white walls, shiny floors that catch the light like mirrors, and a chandelier that probably cost more than my first car.

Curious, I step away from the front door and glance down the hallway to the left. Brock’s deep voice overlaps with someone else’s—sharp, controlled, definitely pissed. That’s gotta be his brother. From what Brock’s told me, Rhett’s got a permanent stick up his ass.

Feeling restless, I step forward through a large archway and into a massive, open living room.

There’s a single step down, opening up everything—the ceiling is at least twelve feet high with fancy lighting fixtures hanging overhead.

A floor-to-ceiling window stretches across the far right wall, framing the sprawling city skyline and distant mountains.

Walking around the cream-colored furniture, I take in the fancy tables and fixtures.

Everything looks like reclaimed wood, polished smooth.

The lampshades on either side of the couch are blue and green glass—like one my grandma had.

Even the art’s kind of stuffy: abstract paintings and black-and-white photos.

But what really grabs me are the charcoal sketches above the fireplace—hands, broad backs, muscular asses, and what looks suspiciously like the base of an alpha’s cock.

Rich people are weird.

Stepping up to the window, I gaze out over the city. Westbin looks huge from here. People down below are nothing but tiny specs.

“It must cost a fortune to live here,” I mutter as I run my fingers through my dark, messy hair. The waves refuse to lie flat, curling back up like they don’t want to behave.

“Excuse me.” A stern voice cuts through the silence. Rhett.

He looks exactly like Brock, only older and gray, dressed like he’s heading to some important meeting. His slacks are freshly pressed, dark blue shirt tucked in just right. No tie.

“Hey man.” I hold out my hand. “I’m Oli.”

“There’s been some confusion.” Rhett doesn’t even glance at my hand. “I won’t be taking you up north.”

Brock shoots me an apologetic grimace. He warned me Rhett might be hard to convince, but damn—didn’t expect the older alpha to be such an ass.

“I don’t get why everything has to be a fight with you,” Brock snaps. I’m proud of him.

While I don’t want anyone to make a fuss for me, this is a big moment for my friend.

Brock loves his brother deeply, but he’s always felt indebted to the alpha.

Because of that, he tried really hard not to ask his brother for anything since he got clean, but this is what families do for one another—they help out when they can.

“It wouldn’t kill you to not be a prick for once,” Brock says, glaring.

“A prick?” Rhett’s scent sharpens, and he puffs out his chest, dominance filling the room.

His scent is too sharp to really pinpoint, but I think I can smell hazelnuts.

The intense aroma makes my hackles rise and my fist curls tight, but I stay put, letting Brock handle this.

“If you want to call me a prick, that’s fine.

But I’m not sneaking your old prison buddy across the northern border.

I don’t need that kind of hassle right now. ”

This isn’t my house, and I want to keep it respectful, but damn, this fucker is making it hard. “I’m not a prison buddy,” I say, voice steady. “I’m Brock’s sponsor.”

“Sponsor?” Rhett shoots me a hard look, clearly not buying it.

“I’ve been clean for over a year.” Brock steps up proudly. “No drugs, no booze. Hell, I even cut carbs.”

Rhett’s brows shoot up as he sizes Brock up. Looking for bloodshot eyes? Track marks? A neon sign that flashes ‘ I’m lying ’?

“I mean it.” Brock’s voice softens, sincere. “I’m clean.”

“You’re clean?” A softer voice comes from behind Rhett. He steps aside as a blond beta appears—Myrick. He’s dressed in a pair of pressed gray slacks and a tucked in pale blue polo. His hair is brushed back and carefully parted to one side. He looks like he should be parking cars at a country club.

“Totally clean.” Brock grins, clearly proud.

“That’s amazing!” Myrick rushes forward and wraps Brock in a quick hug around the waist .

I watch the exchange quietly. Myrick’s eyes flick over me briefly—a spark of recognition. I give a slight nod.

“You met Oli before,” Brock introduces us again.

“Once.” Myrick’s smile is genuine, warm but still a little cautious. “You gave me a ride when Brock needed help. Right?”

He’s right.

And I specifically remember how nice the beta was.

I clear my throat and step forward a little. “Good to see you again, Myrick.”

Myrick nods, eyes bright. “Likewise.”

Rhett watches us both from the side, his expression unreadable—but there’s a flicker of tension in his jaw.

A tiny dog trots right up to me, tail wagging with zero hesitation. He sniffs my boots.

“Hey there, little man.” I bend down and pick him up, pleased when he starts panting excitedly.

“ She ,” Myrick corrects politely. “Her name’s Dolly.”

“Hello, Dolly,” I snort at the unintentional joke. Myrick laughs softly, and I find myself smiling back. Damn, he’s cute in that polished, almost fragile way. Like a choir boy that’s begging to get dirty.

“I love musicals,” the beta admits, scrunching his nose as he scratches behind Dolly’s ear. I stare, trying to guess his age. He looks young, but Brock told me that he and Rhett have been together for twenty years or something like that.

“I’m really proud of you, Brock,” Rhett says, his tone tight, the kind a parent uses before a lecture. “But I’m not comfortable taking this…” His eyes flick to me.

“Oli,” I remind him.

Rhett sucks in a sharp breath. “Oli.” He says my name like it burns. This guy really is something. “I’m sorry, but I won’t be taking you into the Northern Territory. ”

I glance at Brock, unsure if he wants to push it. Honestly, I don’t care either way. I’ll get up north one way or another.

“He’s not going to overthrow the government or some shit like that.” Brock crosses his arms, facing his brother head-on. “He’s looking for work.”

The pair stare each other down, but I keep scratching under Dolly’s ears. The pup leans into me, rubbing her face against my chest. Myrick, on the other hand, takes a step back. He looks unsure, like he’d rather be anywhere but here.

“I’m not trying to be an asshole, Brock,” Rhett snaps, voice rising. “But I’m not responsible for carpooling your friends across the fucking country. Especially those looking for work in an area known for illegal activity.” His jab stings.

“Like buying an illegal omega off the black market?” I can’t help but shoot back.

Rhett snaps his head to me, eyes flashing. “What the fuck did you say?”

I should shut up, let Brock handle this—but I’m done with this prick’s attitude. “Look, you can look down on me for wanting to find off-the-books work, but don’t pretend you’re some kind of saint.”

The chorded muscles in Rhett’s neck pull and flex, and his knuckles grow white as he squeezes his fists.

The rage rolling off of him is intense, making my adrenaline rush.

Hell, even Myrick bows his head in a show of submission, but Rhett won’t hit me.

He’s not the kind. In fact, I’m willing to bet he’s never thrown a punch in his whole goddamn life.

Men like him rely on their money to do the fighting for them.

“I know I’m a fuck-up,” Brock says, stepping closer to try to pull his brother back. Rhett’s eyes stay locked on me, though, and I glare right back. “I’ve worked hard to be better,” Brock says, looking to Myrick for support. “Oli’s been a big reason. He just needs a lift north. That’s it.”

“Rhett?” Myrick’s big blue eyes plead with his mate.

Rhett glares, and his teeth flash at me one last time before he looks away. But when his gaze lands on Myrick, his jaw relaxes.

“Don’t give me that look, Myrick,” Rhett says firmly, though he already seems calmer. “I’m already on edge with everything going on with the company. I don’t need this shit on top of everything else.”

Brock’s brows shoot up, panic flickering in his eyes. “What’s happening with the company?”

Rhett exhales hard, unclenching his fists. “I’m selling it.”

Brock’s eyes widen. He glances at Myrick, then back at Rhett. “Selling it? Why?”

“Because I’m not passionate about textiles,” Rhett says flatly. “I appreciate what our fathers built, but I’m forty-two. I’ve spent my whole life caring for something I never wanted. I want to make something for myself.”

Brock rocks on his feet, clearly upset. I don’t get it—he told me he never cared much for the family business and was happy to leave it to Rhett.

“Yeah, okay.” Brock nods stiffly.

“I’ve got a decent offer from Cooper Jannis,” Rhett adds, patting Brock’s arm. All his anger is gone. “But don’t worry—you’ll get your share.”

Brock shakes his head fast. “I don’t want it.” Rhett looks surprised. “Seriously. The company’s always been yours. But if you want to give me something, take Oli up north.” He shoots me a sad smile .

I’m touched, but it’s not necessary. “Brock.” I place a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. “Don’t give up anything for me. I’ll find my own way.”

“No,” Brock insists. “I’m serious about this fresh start. A start I wouldn’t have without you. Rhett—what do you say?”

“Really?” Rhett gives me a long, slow look, his mouth curling in distaste. “You’d give up your inheritance to give some asshole a ride?”

“Rhett!” Myrick gasps, shocked. His eyes dart to me, clearly embarrassed by his mate.

“Oli saved my fucking life,” Brock barks, his biceps flexing. He looks like he’s one smart-ass comment away from throwing a punch.

“It’s fine.” I hand Dolly back to Myrick. “Don’t worry about it, Brock. I’m good.” I glare at Rhett as I turn to leave. Hitchhiking across the damn country is gonna suck, but I’ve done worse.

“No!” Myrick moves quickly, slipping in front of me and blocking my exit. His delicate features are set with resolve. “Rhett,” he says, turning to his mate, “you’ve said for years you’d give your right arm if someone pulled Brock’s head out of his ass and set him straight.”

“Hey,” Brock grumbles, offended. Rhett cuts his brother a hard look, and Brock pouts. “I get it. Still.”

Myrick steps closer to me, standing tall and proud. “This gentleman has done that.”

I almost laugh. I’m nobody’s idea of a gentleman—but if it gets me where I need to go, I’ll take the compliment.

“The least we can do is give him a ride,” Myrick says, his voice soft but steady.

Rhett’s jaw ticks. He exhales, the sound sharp in the quiet room. I expect him to blow up, bark at Myrick, and pull some alpha dominance bullshit. But instead, he looks at his mate for a long beat—like he’s really thinking.

“Please, Rhett,” Brock adds, voice low.

I stay rooted in place, curious to see if this arrogant, rich alpha is going to give in to the pressure. I hope he does. Not because I’m eager to sit on a plane with him, but because it’ll confirm what I already suspect—he’s not as hard as he pretends.

“Fine.” Rhett growls, and I bow my head to hide my smile. “I’ll add him to the flight manifest, but there had better not be any warrants out for your arrest,” he practically snarls at me. “Because I won’t be smuggling you in.”

It takes everything not to point out that no one smuggles into the Northern Territory—they don’t care who comes in. It’s the assholes down south that monitor everyone coming back.

“Be ready in five minutes,” Rhett barks at me before marching out of the room, and Myrick rushes to follow the alpha.

“Sorry about that,” Brock says as soon as Rhett is gone.

“Don’t worry,” I say, patting Brock on the back. “A few hours with that asshole won’t kill me.”

I hope.