Page 13

Chapter 13

Kobe

The obnoxious sound of my alarm pulls me out of a peaceful sleep. My entire body tenses up at the sight of the light coming through the curtains before I realize I can lay in today. I relax, stretching out with a sigh. Dull kind of ache pulses through my lower back. I wonder where it came from, still half asleep, until all the memories of last night come to me.

I smile to myself like an idiot and stare blankly at the ceiling. I might be a bit sore, but my insides feel all nice and fuzzy.

Fuck, how long has it been since I got railed this good? There’s no other way to call what happened last night. Must have been years ago with Sam. They preferred topping. From then on, it’s been just one unfulfilling relationship or fling after another. Not to mention I couldn’t really focus on that side of life properly, especially not after I started working for Mr. Wilson.

I blink slowly, recalling echoes and flashes of Apollo above me, so in control and in his element. I never would have expected it to suit him so much.

Alright, enough musing. Back to reality.

With a sigh, I sit up. Like Apollo said, what we did was just sharing a moment of pleasure and satisfaction, nothing more. Just some fun… I know how easily my stupid brain can make me care for people or overthink things, so I sharply separate the memory inside my head and put it into a box.

I get dressed and ready. Aside from my muscles being a tad out of it from the unusual positions, I’m light and tranquil. Like I’ve been walking around with a weight on my shoulders that I didn’t even know was there.

When I walk out, Marci’s in the living room. Still in her pink fluffy robe and hair all disheveled, she pauses in the motion of picking up one of Skyler’s socks he must have thrown down when changing.

“Morning,” I say with a smile.

“Hey,” she answers, voice a little drained. I can tell pretty well how she’s feeling by just looking at her. She’s out and about, so it’s not the worst, but she clearly isn’t a hundred percent. Noticing the washing basket ready by the bathroom door, I quickly hop in front of her, sweeping up the sock in a brisk motion.

“Go sit down. I’ll sort this out before going to work.” I regret doing that when a dull pain passes down my lower back, but I clench my teeth and grimace through it.

Marci smirks, studying me with suspicion while she slowly straightens up again. “Alright…” she mutters playfully. Her gaze follows me while I fetch the laundry. She knows it’s one thing I hate doing. “You seem in a good mood,” she notes as she comes after me to the bathroom, where I load up the clothes into the washing machine.

“Is that bad?”

“No, no.” She shrugs. “Soooo, did you have fun last night?”

When I realize that’s where she’s getting to, I roll my eyes. Marci chuckles at my response. I told her I was going out with someone, and she probably figured out the rest thanks to how damn long it took me to get ready and how nervous I was. “Yeah. I did.” My cheeks heat a little, like I’m some teenager talking to their mom or something.

“Ooooh, you got busy busy, didn’t you? I can see it all over your face,” she says teasingly, and just as I’m about to protest her gross overstepping of boundaries, Marci pokes me in the lower back, making me yelp. “Was it some strong, sexy alpha from work? Tell me!” She reacts with pretend outrage, but also leans in with a spark of interest in her eyes. Suddenly, she doesn’t seem tired at all.

“Ew! This is like my mom is trying to talk to me about my sex life,” I say with a disgruntled chuckle.

Marci opens her mouth in shock and slaps me over the shoulder. “Tch! I deserve at least some info, I think! And you know damn well I’m not your mamma, boy ,” she accentuates the word bitingly.

I snort, giving her a loving glance. She’s right. Marci isn’t my mother, not really. She is much more than that. And has always been ten times more of a woman than the one who actually gave birth to me. No matter how sick or busy. Even without being our flesh and blood, Marci has never faltered in being here for me and Skyler. She knows how grateful I am for her.

“Anyway,” she says while gently placing her palm against my arm, “I’m just glad you’re getting some pleasant distraction from work, is all I was trying to say,” she adds, moving away again.

I catch her by her hand before she can and squeeze it with a smile.

“I know. And it…wasn’t an alpha, but another omega,” I say, lowering my gaze. For some reason, I feel strangely vulnerable divulging that information.

Marci blinks in surprise. I see the gears in her head spinning. “Oh.”

Her reaction isn’t too shocking. Betas understand certain fundamental things about us venus—mainly that alphas pair up with omegas like two pieces of a puzzle clicking together. And it isn’t only betas who have this notion carved into their heads. After all, I’ve never been with another omega before this either, or even really entertained the idea.

But why? Just because it’s not considered “ideal” or “proper” or “popular”? I never thought to question that notion.

“Was it the mysterious young man who visited you not that long ago?” Marci moves over it quickly and continues digging for information with almost childish enthusiasm. When I flash her a ‘how the hell do you know that’ kind of grimace, she smirks. “Sweetheart, you never bring anyone here. In fact, when’s the last time someone came to visit you? It’s not that hard to put two and two together.”

She’s too smart for her own good.

“It’s nothing serious. Just some fun.”

“Mhm,” she mutters sarcastically and moves away in slow motion. “Too bad. You deserve something meaningful. Someone to love. Anyway, there are some clothes in the dryer that need folding. Since you already offered and all,” she adds with a cheeky smile. “I’m making tea and then lying down again. No rest for the wicked. Love ya!”

Marci sends me an air kiss as she walks out of the door. I stand by the washing machine for a moment, the smile slowly fading from my lips.

It would be nice, wouldn’t it?

That thought makes me pause. Takes me away into some quiet place where I mull over it, imagining things that would never be. I don’t go too deep before I’m pulled out by a sharp knocking on the main door. With furrowed brows, I straighten my back.

“I’ll get it!” I shout before even leaving the bathroom. Marci is waiting for me with a questioning expression once I walk out, halfway through filling the kettle. Smoothing my wild curls and making sure I look presentable in the long mirror by the door, I step toward it while swiftly going through the possibilities in my head before opening.

Marci’s right—no one ever comes here. Skyler’s school or carer would call or email first. The landlord barely contacts us. When he does, it’s always with the least actual human contact possible. Apollo has my number, and I doubt he’d be around here again after last night.

I open the door to see Mrs. Mayfield standing there, arms crossed over her chest with that crooked, minimally polite, mostly annoyed expression perpetually on her sour, wrinkled face.

Doing my best to suppress my dissatisfied reaction, I give her a civil smile while I grip the frame, already knowing this will be unpleasant.

“Morning, Mrs. Mayfield,” I say, desperately trying to get my teeth to not grate against each other. Unfortunately, that’s the effect she has on me. Everything inside me pulses with tension every time I see her, almost like when I’m out on a dangerous job. Of course, this frail old woman barely half my height isn’t threatening, at least not physically.

“Morning,” she replies drily.

“Is there anything you need?” I ask.

Control the passive aggressive tone, Kobe. Otherwise, this will be much longer than it needs to be. Which is already way too fucking long.

She narrows those wide-set eyes at me like an angry little purse dog about to lunge. I know she’s going to complain before the words even come out of her mouth. “There is, young man,” she says, sounding offended. Her chest is all puffed out. I barely resist an eye roll. “Your brother has put up quite the fuss last night. Again. He startled me out of my sleep!”

The ends of my fingers go white as I press them against the doorframe.

I want to turn back to Marci, who’s definitely listening hidden behind the kitchen wall, but I figure the old woman wouldn’t lie, as annoying as she is. Unfortunately, it’s pretty realistic to imagine Skyler got frustrated because I went out yesterday instead of staying in. I still feel bad about it. I guess now I have to deal with the consequences of my actions.

“I know you can’t possibly understand, but it is quite frightening to live alone, next to such disturbing sounds of rage and violence! I am not paying my rent to be afraid in my own home,” she rambles on in that goddamn superior tone, that over-styled curling gray hair jiggling around her face as she does.

Clenching my teeth, I remind myself to breathe.

Violence? It’s nothing like she makes it out to be and she knows it. All of my good mood is oficially gone, ruined by this insufferable witch.

“He isn’t violent. Skyler would never hurt you or anyone else. I’ve told you before. He just struggles to control his emotions sometimes, like most of us do. If he woke you up, I apologize.” The words leave my lips with a struggle.

I can’t stop feeling angry when I look at her, forever forced to remember what she said when we first moved in here years ago. When she wondered out loud if that boy with a deformed face was my brother before even introducing herself to us, and then asked me so nonchalantly if he was retarded…

Mrs. Mayfield makes a sour expression again. “Well, he did.”

This is all that much more frustrating since he hasn’t had a bad blowout in a while. “If you could just give him some grace. We all get overwhelmed. It’s called being a human, right? I myself am feeling pretty frustrated right now.”

Couldn’t hold that one in.

“Are you threatening me?” she blurts with furrowed brows, creating deep lines in the middle of her forehead.

“Of course not,” I reply swiftly, raising my hands in a peaceful gesture, while using my best, most innocent tone of voice.

Burning me with her judgmental gaze, Mrs. Mayfield shifts on her feet, moving back a little like she actually thinks I will do anything to her. Grunting softly, she narrows her lips. I don’t know what she expected from this visit. I’ve never backed away before. Not the other times she came here to complain. Last time must have been a couple of months ago.

“We’re quiet enough otherwise, aren’t we? No one else has complained. I don’t bring strangers here, I don’t throw parties… And I gotta go to work soon,” I say, seeing an opportunity to end this harrowing encounter. “Again, sorry about Skyler waking you up. I’m happy to talk to him and ask him to apologize to you personally. It’s important for him to learn the consequences of his actions.”

Mrs. Mayfield seems a little taken aback. To my surprise, no smart ass insults veiled as concern fly out at me.

Instead, she swallows and nods, moving more to the side, closer to her apartment entrance, before glancing up at me again. “G-good. He doesn’t need to do that, just…tell that boy to get a grip on his emotions. He’s old enough. Have a good day,” she mutters, not even attempting to make those words sound genuine, before slithering back into her door and locking it behind her with a click.

I stand there for a few more moments, tampering the frustration bubbling inside me.

Deep down, I know she doesn’t want him to come to apologize because she doesn’t like looking at Skyler. Because he doesn’t look quite like everybody else. That knowledge—that there are people like that out there—makes me burn with rage for him. The ignorance and unfairness of it.

Every day I still remember the girl with the butterfly tattoo, and yet I think I would be fine if people like Mrs. Mayfield were the ones that suffer under the hands of Jasper and others like him… Then again, the girl might have not been innocent, either. I’ll never know.

Are any of us?

I hear Marci step out into the hallway behind me. With a deep sigh, I shut the door and turn to her.

“Miserable old bitch,” she murmurs with a genuinely hateful frown. I could definitely come up with much stronger descriptors.

“Fuck,” I say in response to seeing the clock in the kitchen. “I gotta get ready. Shit.” The damned shrew even stole the little time I had before having to leave for herself and her stupid theatrics. I turn toward the bathroom, stomach twisting while my mind tries to figure out how quickly I can finish the laundry, get dressed, and drive to the Dollhouse without being late.

Food. I need to grab something to eat, too.

Marci touches my arm gently, making my body come off the edge. “I’ll sort it.” I look at her with a grateful smile, even if I feel horrible for promising to do it and not being able to, especially when she should rest instead. “Go on. Forget about her, okay? Skyler threw some things around last night. It lasted a few seconds. She’s just being extra. As always.”

I roll my eyes, and it somehow releases a lot of the frustration created in the mere minutes I stood in the door. Marci’s right. I need to remove her from my mind. She doesn’t deserve the space there. Besides, I have work to focus on.

“I’ll try to get home early today,” I say. My anger at Mrs. Mayfield might be justified, but I would lie to myself if I denied that the guilt hiding behind it didn’t intensify it. Another explosion of feelings from Skyler I wasn’t privy to or around for, likely caused by my absence and lack of support.

Marci steps in, giving me a kiss on the forehead like Mom used to when I was little. I’m thankful she’s taken over that tradition. “Alright, sweetheart. Be safe.”

“I will.”

?

I’ve gotten so distracted by my memories of last night and the encounter with my insufferable neighbor that I don’t even think about the other thing I should be worried about until Jasper appears in front of me, walking to his office.

It hits me as I see his steely eyes. They ignore me. Still, my heart pounds inside my chest and questions flood my mind. Is it really all fine?

Seems like it, at least for most of the morning.

I’m sent to do some smaller errands by Vince. Jasper behaves like he usually does, though…he’s a bit more quiet? It must be in my head, I try to convince myself. He agreed to it. I agreed to it. I put myself in this position.

The dark shadow of doubt and unease follows me throughout the day. In the early evening, when I’m sitting down and having a few bites of a dry sandwich while texting Skyler to check up on him, I hear the break room’s door open with a squeak. I straighten my back quickly.

I meet Jasper’s gaze and nearly choke on the bread. Putting my phone away, I raise my brows alertly. “Boss?”

He watches me, once again sending the tingles of anxiety down my fingertips. “I need to see my father,” he finally says, voice as flat and deep as it usually is, unless he’s in his entertaining, good mood. “You’re taking me. Now.”

I don’t even have time to blink before he pulls away and walks down the hall. I drop everything and go after him, hoping I actually remember the way to his father’s house from my previous visit.

Jasper’s pheromones trail faintly behind him. There’s a hint of something heavy to the scent, which isn’t all that strange considering we’re going to see his father. That never goes well from what I’ve seen, so it’s natural for him to be on edge.

We get into the car. Only the two of us.

I drive us across the city in silence.

What am I expecting to happen, anyway? For Jasper to ask me how Apollo was? If I was happy getting fucked by his omega? Idiot.

It’s probably good that he isn’t saying anything. After all, like Apollo said, this is work. What we did was just pleasure. A personal thing. It should be separated. Hopefully, it stays that way, and then I won’t have to worry.

Solomon Zane’s grandiose mansion impresses me every time I come in front of it. Even the driveway has been paved with stones shaped and set down by hand, creating a wavy, calming image on the ground. I park and pull down the window to hang my arm out of it. I shouldn’t have to wait long, considering the two forces of nature that are about to meet, so I keep my seatbelt on.

“You’re coming,” I hear Jasper’s voice, but the words don’t quite register.

Bending down to glance at me through the window, standing there a few steps away from the car with his hands in his pockets, I tense up at his slightly annoyed expression. “Sorry?”

“Get out. You’ve been asked to come in,” Jasper says, meeting my eyes briefly before he turns and lazily walks to the door. Or rather than lazily, more like he doesn’t want to enter at all.

Frowning to myself, I feel the temperature of the blood in my veins drop.

Why am I being asked to be there? By who? His father? I’m just a tool for these powerful men. They give an order and without me truly understanding why, I am compelled to follow it.

With a few swift motions, I get out of the car and catch up with Jasper, staying a short distance behind him as we make our way through the house’s stunning entrance. The guards nod at him and ignore me as if I’m a ghost.

“Wait here,” Jasper orders, not even bothering to turn to me before he enters his father’s office.

I nod and hesitantly stand against the wall a few steps away. The two bodyguards both glance at me. I can feel the judgment in their peery eyes. Thankfully, I don’t sense any pheromones. They’re just betas. One less thing to worry about.

It doesn’t take long for whatever discussion Jasper is having with his father to become semi-public. Their voices, though muffled by the heavy oak door, start echoing inside the room, almost as if there’s a tempest trapped in there, threatening to burst out.

Solomon Zane’s men seem fairly oblivious to it, or good at acting like they’re not the least bit worried or interested. I can’t help but wonder how different it would have been to work for Solomon instead of Jasper, and why he put me under his wing.

Was it because I’m an omega? Because I’m young and couldn’t be fully trusted with the high level of operation around here?

Or because he didn’t find me adequately important but felt enough loyalty to Mr. Wilson not to just refuse, so he threw me onto his wayward son?

Time passes weirdly in this long hallway of the mansion soaked in the aroma of cigars and covered in expensive dark wood. The voices behind the door ebb and flow, falling quieter—completely silent at moments—before picking back up as the two argue.

Unbeknownst to the betas, a faint scent of pheromones seeps from inside the room. They must be getting really worked up in there. Though, the smell of ocean air is much stronger, telling me it’s mostly Jasper showing off like a peacock in front of his father.

Just as I’m thinking about how glad I am to not be in there, the door opens.

Gulping, I dart my eyes across Jasper, who steps out, pausing in the middle with some sort of grunt. His face says it all, not to mention his threatening demeanor. I’m about to step out to follow him back into the car when he shoots me a dangerously sharp glare.

“No,” he says, voice rumbling deep inside his throat. “He wants to speak with you.”

Shivers run down my spine. Oh, I don’t like the tone he said that with.

“M-me?”

“Gimme the keys. I’m waiting in the car,” he barks at me, raising his hand. I quickly fish them out of my pocket and throw them at him. Jasper snatches them with a reflex of a hunter and rumbles, “Make it quick,” under his breath as he stomps away.

Blinking sharply, I glance up at the two guards, confused. As if they will help me.

“Come in, Kobe,” Solomon Zane’s calm voice invites me from within. One of the betas nods at me and gestures toward the door.

Fuck… Today keeps getting better and better.

I will my body to get it together. It’s hard to seem unaffected when I walk into the brewing smoke bomb of angry pheromones filling the room. Still, I do my best to smile ever so slightly as I meet his eyes and sit on the chair facing him behind his desk.

“Sir.”

“Welcome. I do apologize for…the ambiance,” Solomon Zane says, a touch of annoyance mixed with embarrassment passing through his words. It never fails to surprise me how polite he is. For a gangster, anyway.

“No problem, sir,” I say, trying to navigate the awkward fact that his son, who is my boss, just had a tantrum here with him. “Did you wish to speak to me?”

He leans back in his chair, smiling calmly. Something behind his old eyes tells me he maybe enjoys my uncertainty. Like he can see the scared little omega way over his head somewhere deep inside me. And yet there doesn’t seem to be the same judgment someone like Jasper would display.

“I wanted to make sure how you’re getting on,” he says in an airy tone, slotting his hands together on his desk in front of him. “It’s been, what…a couple of months since you’ve been with us? Tell me, how are things going?”

“Everything’s going well,” I say confidently. In all honesty, they definitely could have gone much worse. No part of me is keen to complain.

“Good. Good…”

There’s some ulterior motive behind these friendly questions. He doesn’t actually care. I’m not a worker under a small family-owned business that values its employees as people. This man is a crime boss who’s spent his entire life doing this. My happiness isn’t his priority.

Narrowing my eyes, I shift in the chair, waiting for him to reveal what he really cares about.

“Remember the first time we spoke?”

My lungs tug as I forget to breathe, too focused on the moving gears in my head as I’m trying to figure out what answer can get me killed and what answer will be the preferable one. “Of course, sir,” I say, unable to hide the loud gulp that follows. There’s a tight knot inside my throat, making it hard to inhale fully.

Fuck. He asked me to watch over his son. Steer him in the right direction , I believe his words were.

Is that why I’m here? Because I haven’t snitched well enough? Or at all?

Shit. This man can’t expect me to have any kind of sway over the violent, manic force of nature that is Jasper, can he? Glancing across the room for a moment, I finally brave meeting Solomon Zane’s eyes again.

“Sir, I’m afraid that Jasper doesn’t share his plans with me, or give me any information beforehand. He…keeps me at arm’s length, which is his right. I’m still fairly new here, I know that. So I get where he’s coming from. I…I apologize if—”

“It is alright,” he interrupts me, voice strangely gentle, almost as if he’s speaking to a child. “It would be na?ve to expect Jasper to divulge his inner thoughts to just anyone.” Yes, yes, it would. It took Mr. Wilson well over a year to start slipping things. Even more so before he began asking for my feedback. And he was much different in temperament than Jasper. “I admit I was, perhaps foolishly, hoping you two would click a little better, but fear not…you aren’t in trouble.”

My brows twitch together at his words and my stomach twists.

What does he mean by that?

An uncomfortable, gnawing realization I don’t quite want to accept invades my mind. It’s only an idea. It can’t be what he meant, right? Still…did he choose me to be Jasper’s driver because I’m an omega? Hoping that I would somehow seduce him and then be able to deliver information? He must know about Apollo. Has he tried this on him as well but didn’t succeed, I wonder?

A brief wave of nausea passes over me. I refuse to entertain that possibility. No, Solomon Zane sees me as a person, not just an omega. That was the feeling I got when we first met, but maybe I was the na?ve one. Stupid little omega who thought he would be seen for his actions and not just as a tool to be used.

Even as everything inside me screams in frustration, I put up an unaffected, confident front. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more use, sir. If there is anything I can do…”

He waves his hand, again acting like this is no big deal. The pheromones he sends in my face with the movement are as placating and clear as his demeanor.

“As I said, I hold nothing against you. From what I’ve been told, you’ve been a useful, hardworking part of the operation, and I hope you remain that way. All I ask is…that you continue to keep your ear out. My son…is restless. So if you hear any whispers or hints of any rash decisions possibly in the making, I implore you to let me know right away,” he says, leaning toward me over the table with an intimately focused expression.

I know when an alpha is trying to sway me. Manipulate me. But this concerns me less than the fact he seems to think Jasper is planning to do something that worries him so much he had to get me here to nearly beg me to keep an eye out for him.

“Absolutely, sir,” I say with a firm nod.

He isn’t wrong, and with the risky moves Jasper has been making, I’m not as opposed to giving his father the information he needs if it means a more peaceful existence overall. Being put in this position still makes me feel like a bug, stuck between the feet of two warring giants, threatened to be squished at any moment, but that’s a risk I have to live with.

“Wonderful. I knew I could count on you, Kobe.” With a satisfied smile, Solomon Zane leans back into his chair. He reaches into one drawer and takes out a box of cigars. “Now, you should probably return to your work. I’m afraid my son isn’t known for his patience,” he notes with a smirk.

It’s stupid, but I briefly wonder about what Jasper was like as a child. It’s almost impossible to imagine him small and helpless and innocent…

I stand sharply and I wish I could admit that I’d rather stay here with him than go to a possibly very grumpy Jasper waiting in the car. “Thank you for checking up with me, sir. Good night,” I say with a slight bow before leaving the room.

I feel his gaze on me as I walk away, and catch the faintest scent of the lit cigar as I’m heading down the end of the hallway.

Once I step outside, the crisp evening air greets me, so fresh and so lovely. It makes me let out a sigh of relief after being stuck in that stuffy office. And as nice as the house is, the atmosphere there is anything but light.

Ahead, I see Jasper in the back seat of the car, his face illuminated by the screen of his phone that he seems to scroll on with boredom. Pulling all that invigorating oxygen into my lungs, I steady myself a little before returning. He’s going to ask me why his father wanted to speak to me, of course. He’ll be rightfully paranoid and distrustful. I just hope it won’t cause too much trouble. Especially…all the other things considered.

I go right for the driver’s door. The keys are already in the ignition, so I get in.

“I’m sorry for you having to wait, boss,” I say, quickly getting behind the wheel instead of wasting any more time. Jasper makes some sort of annoyed huff but says nothing else. I don’t doubt he will ask me soon, though, so I steel myself.

It doesn’t take long. Maybe five minutes into the drive, I feel his icy gaze peering at me from the back seat. I glance up toward the rearview mirror, inviting him to speak.

“What did my father want with you?” He’s real blunt. Better than dancing around it, I guess.

“He wanted to ask how I’m getting on. We…talked about my old boss, Carlos Wilson, a bit. He shared some stories.” I prepared that answer, repeating it in my head as we drove in silence. It came out well, confident. At least I hope it did.

Jasper twists his lips into a smirk and hums like he’s bored by it.

Good. Bored’s good.

“My father’s always been too damn sentimental,” he mutters, almost to himself, before leaning back into the seat. The tone he uses indicates the conversation is over, so I let out a quiet exhale while flexing my fingers around the wheel.

Maybe I can get to the end of today without my heart rate going up again.

“Did you enjoy him?” I hear after a few more moments of blissful silence.

At first, I think Jasper is on the phone with someone, before realizing he’s looking at me. Then his words hit me. My stomach sinks. Squeezing the wheel, I hold my expression frozen in a neutral position.

Here it is. You brought this on yourself, you horny idiot.

“What?”

“Did you enjoy him?” He asks again, this time stressing every word. He knows I heard him, and he wants his answer.

I shouldn’t be this nervous. He agreed to it. Jasper's and Apollo’s relationship is open. He isn’t his property. So why…

Before I can respond, he continues. “You know, even just for what you two did, people pay a whole lotta money.” My stomach twists to the point it feels like it’s trying to hang itself on my intestines. What does he mean? ‘Just what we did?’ “He’s gotten men to completion more than once by kissing alone. Apollo is special like that. A rare creature. But fragile, too. Soft in nature and so broken. Hence, he sometimes does foolish things. Things he knows he shouldn’t.”

I don’t like the tone he uses when speaking of Apollo. More than that, I don’t like the words themselves. White-hot anger, strangely intertwined with fear, blooms through my veins.

Jasper believes that Apollo and I only made out. He…told him that?

For a moment, I don’t know how to deal with that realization. My brain splits between self preservation—focused on the terrifying fact that I claimed something that was his without his knowledge or permission—and a cutting sensation of being wronged by Apollo. I feel so wronged that I start getting angry with myself for blindly trusting him. After all, I barely know the man. And only because he’s beautiful, because he’s otherworldly, and because I felt something , some strange sense of belonging or understanding or maybe pity, I figured I was safe enough to take him on his word.

What a stupid, stupid mistake. I should have known better.

My tongue feels numb. The words just won’t come out. “I…”

“He hasn’t even told you he didn’t have my permission, did he?” I don’t know if it should relieve me that there isn’t the anger I expected in Jasper’s gaze as I meet his eyes in the mirror again. Instead, I notice an uncomfortable, calculating glint to them I can’t quite translate, making me much more nervous. The scent of the ocean crawls to the front with me, cold to the bone and overwhelming.

“I—”

This time he interrupts me, though I doubt I was going to get anything out, anyway.

“It’s alright. Lying to men is what Apollo did before this. What he does every day, really. Can’t blame someone like you for falling for it, can I?” A sense of superiority twists his words. He lifts his chin with a chuckle and suddenly, I feel like the dumb little omega he must see me as.

“Comes natural to him. He was a pathetic, sad junkie when I found him, did you know?” he asks. My raised brows are an answer enough. An almost sadistic smirk spreads across his lips. “That could be why. You can never quite trust them, even when they’re sober. He might be a beautiful butterfly now, not just a lying, cheating bottom feeder of society reliant on his body to get his next hit, but that makes him that much more fragile. You understand?”

I don’t. Right now, I don’t understand anything. The world flashes by as I barely focus on the traffic and the turmoil inside my mind.

“He isn’t like us. Isn’t a killer. Isn’t someone who can do what needs to be done. But Apollo is dear to me, so I’ll let him do what he wants. You two are free to engage in whatever entertains him, but I’m warning you…do not harm that precious little mind of his. Do not make him confused. And do not overstep. Understood?”

I finally get the huge lump blocking my throat down with a heavy gulp. “I understand, sir,” I mutter, too shaken to even try to hide the fear in my voice.

Jasper smiles, pleased like some predator after a successful hunt. He spreads out in the back of the car again, legs wide and arms thrown behind the headrests loosely.

We say nothing else for the rest of the ride.

Every cell in my body remains on edge, buzzing as if I’ve survived some sort of near death experience. Suddenly, the lights of the night city and the surrounding cars burn into my eyes, creating an even worse headache. And it isn’t just my head that aches. My heart is angry. So angry. I go through all of my emotions again by the time we arrive at our final destination. Betrayal, denial, rage, self-loathing, disappointment… None of them feel enough or right.

I think anger is the easiest to feel. It always has been. Maybe not the most productive, but it’s gotten me through many times where no other emotion could. Sure, it inevitably leads to violence and blood and later to me despising myself, but what else am I supposed to do?

“Hey.” Jasper snaps his fingers in my face, making me jerk. He’s leaning forward between the seats. “Find Lenny, Gibbs and Jones, and tell them to go to my office. Then take a break. I’ll call you when I need you.” With those sharp, clear instructions, he gets out of the car and walks toward the building.

With a shaky breath, I sink into my seat with eyes shut tightly. My heart still pounds inside my throat. I push through, knowing that after I do this thing he asked me to, I can get a delicious cigarette out of my pocket and maybe achieve some semblance of peace.

Thankfully, it’s not hard to locate the three men in question. Two are playing poker in the break room when I poke my head in and Jones is chatting with a bouncer at the entrance to the Dollhouse like he so often does.

After I do my job, I find myself at the loading dock, since it seems to be the only place no one ever goes to for some reason. It might be the smell of the trash containers by the side.

I don’t care. All I want is a cigarette. Or a whole pack of them.

Drawing the smoke into my lungs and letting it swirl in there for a moment, I finally let it out with a deep sigh. My hand still trembles slightly. I look at it, clenching my jaw in frustration, and try to make it stop. Jasper said he will need me to take him home after he’s done with work, considering his personal car’s being repaired, so no early finish for me. Especially not now that I’m probably on his naughty list , even if he acts like everything is normal.

It isn’t. It isn’t, and it’s all my fault.

The door next to me creaks. Jerkily, I turn to see the very face all that bubbling rage inside me is aimed at. Not all of it is my fault , says the panicked voice in my head. In fact, there’s a lot that is on his shoulders.

Apollo smiles when he sees me. He looks happy to have found me here.

After closing the door behind him, he walks up. If I wasn’t so mad, I would marvel at his burgundy sheer shirt with bell sleeves and how beautifully it accentuates his waist.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he says in a playful, flirty tone and saunters toward me, swaying his hips. “To be honest, I was hoping you’d be here. We always seem to meet at this spot without trying to…” Apollo’s eyes have a spark to them, one I might have appreciated any other day. Right now, his breezy attitude and lighthearted banter only awakens my anger, fueled by the fear still sticking to my very bones.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I say sharply the moment he tries to move closer. I step away.

Apollo darts his eyes across me. There’s panic that briefly twists his features, until he probably reads the fucking room, or rather my face, and his expression shifts. He steels himself, sealing everything he just was—any careless vulnerability and honesty—behind a cold, emotionless mask. I get a bad feeling that he’s done this many times before. That it’s something he must have learned to survive.

“What?” he asks, voice low and with a hint of frustration.

I laugh to myself, shaking my head. Throwing the half-finished cigarette on the ground next to me, I step toward Apollo, getting in his face. He doesn’t move, even though I see his gaze widen and arms twitch as I do. “You fucking lied to me,” I blurt, just wanting to get it out, to release some pressure.

Apollo blinks quickly and evades my eyes for a moment. ‘That’s right… I wonder what you’re thinking,’ a voice in my head growls as I watch him panic internally.

It’s like the person I saw before is gone and I no longer know who I’m looking at. It might be the anger rushing through my veins. I might be letting it consume me too easily, but I can’t live with it locked inside and the source of all of it is right in front of me.

“You spoke with Jasper about what we did? I thought I told you to—”

I hit the rusted metal loading dock gate next to me with the side of my fist, making Apollo jolt. “Don’t you dare put this on me!” I almost shout, no matter how much I try to keep my voice down. He frowns but doesn’t say anything, only presses his lips into a thin line. “You told me I had nothing to worry about when you actually didn’t even tell him about us!”

“He knows now,” he says quickly, shaking his head. “And he said that—”

“Does he?” I step closer. I feel Apollo’s quivering breath hit my face. Still, he won’t back down. I almost wish he would. “He doesn’t even know we slept together.” I push those words through my teeth quietly, like Jasper could wait around the corner, listening.

Does Apollo really not understand how big a deal this is? Does he not realize the possible consequences for me, or does he just not care?

Apollo blinks and takes a step backward with a huff. He looks down quickly, guilt passing over his face. But his brows are still furrowed as if he has any right to be mad at me for my reaction.

“What if I had let it slip by accident that we did while I was blindsided and trying to beg him for forgiveness? What would’ve happened to me then, if he found out?”

“He wouldn’t hurt you,” Apollo says confidently, making it sound like I’m stupid for thinking that. “ I was the one who lied to him, to…you. Yeah, okay, I did. I shouldn’t have, but I—”

“My god, Apollo! Don’t you understand? Do you not have any idea that this life isn’t as easy for some of us?” I keep talking, keep spitting that venom at him even as I feel myself slipping into a person I don’t like. He looks at me with his mouth half open, but I don’t let on. “We’re not all cherished and important to a crime boss! I’m not protected like you!” I shout, tapping my fist against my chest. He stares at me, eyes wide like there isn’t even anything behind them, and that makes me that much more frustrated.

Helpless . I start to feel so damn helpless and weak and scared as everything that could’ve happened enters my mind again.

“Unlike you, I’m not special. I can’t risk this position; my fucking life! I am replaceable ,” I stress the word desperately, unsure if he’s capable of fathoming the idea. After all, here he stands in front of me—wearing his expensive, beautiful clothes and living in that insane house that I pick up Jasper at. If he wanted, Apollo could stop doing this job and live the rest of his days in luxury.

“I’m only a cog in this goddamn machine that can be disposed of at a moment’s notice. I can’t afford to make mistakes or have my boss dislike me. What was some fun little distraction for you last night could ruin everything for me! I have people I love who rely on me. People I have to care for!” My voice breaks. Tears start pushing at the back of my eyes as I see Skyler’s face in my mind’s eye.

What if something happened to him because of me? What if Jasper is a man who holds a grudge and would go after my family for me touching what was his?

“Can you even comprehend that you risked their wellbeing and safety by lying to me like some selfish prick?!”

“Stop!” Apollo shouts, slapping his hands over his ears. I stare at him in disbelief while he shakes his head.

The look he gives me when he glances back at me, full of betrayal and pain, splits my heart in two. I want to be angry that he even dares to play a victim in this and yet that hurt expression pains me more than I’d like to admit.

He storms off, letting the door hit the wall as he flies through it.

“Fuck.” I punch the dock gate again. The sound of the metal rippling at the pressure fades, leaving only the pounding of my heart to echo in my ears. Grabbing at the base of my nose, I pinch it before rubbing my eyes.

I’ve let all of that anger out. He lied to me. Wronged me. Risked my safety and therefore Skyler and Marci’s, so why don’t I feel better? Why do I feel guilty?

Those big soft eyes of his stare at me, as broken as Jasper said he was.