Psycho alphas part two, p.15
Psycho Alphas: Part Two, page 15
part #2 of An Unhinged Reverse Harem Duet Series
Ace hopped up the steps and shoved open one of the massive unlocked doors.
Inside was equally pretentious, another mirror of the Manzo home we lived in, only better kept. Clean rugs lined the hallways, and the art along the walls was well dusted.
We stepped into the grand foyer which offered a view down several hallways and up the sweeping stairs ahead, but Ace stopped. He seemed more relaxed now, a faint smile playing on his lips. His scent of redwood and roses matched his composure and there were still echoes of it deep in the bones of this place. I shook away a shiver as my instincts whispered to me that we had just stepped into territory that belonged to him.
I took a breath, centering myself and focusing. If my read on him was right, not asking the guard who was inside hadn’t been strategy—it had been confidence.
It was a gamble.
He was playing a game.
While I hated giving Ace control over anything, I couldn’t deny he knew this place best, and it did give me an opportunity to test my hypothesis on what his primary drive was.
He almost immediately confirmed it, too.
He turned back to us, tugging out the gun that had been tucked into his waistband, and tossing it to Rogue.
“What are you doing?” Rogue growled, almost fumbling the catch.
“You have my back, don’t you, big guy?” he asked.
I almost laughed, but caught myself, not wanting to give him a reason for more smugness.
But—yup.
This was a game.
He poked around the edges of the foyer, examining several suits of armour—real, actual suits of armour. Finally, from one particularly decorated one made of black and gold metal, he plucked a… sceptre. It was gold and black with a dark, glinting claw at the end.
Jesus Christ, I hated him.
He turned it in his hands as if he were weighing it, then, apparently satisfied, made for the grand staircase ahead.
Again, I looked at Rogue, who was left with a second gun. He appeared as blindsided as I felt.
“He’s… as mad as she is, isn’t he?” Rogue muttered, turning the second gun in his hand before following.
“Performative bastard,” I muttered.
Since Ace was the only one who knew the place, we were stuck following him. And since he clearly had no intention of playing it safe or subtle (banging the sceptre on the walls and balustrades as he passed), Rogue and I were both extra tense with our guns out. It made me feel like a bodyguard, which dialled my annoyance up to fifteen.
Down a dim hall, Ace slowed, and I almost walked into him. I realised he’d stopped and was staring up at a huge painting on the wall.
In it were three people. A younger-looking Ace, another man around his age with silver hair, though with the same pale face and sharp features—his brother, Zed Maverick, I guessed. And lastly, sitting between them was a much older man, though despite the age lines and sharp goatee, his piercing blue eyes made it clear he was their father.
The fact that Ace’s family was the portrait type didn’t surprise me in the least. What made it odd—and rather amusing—was the vandalism. Red spray paint obstructed Ace’s eyes and mouth, painting over them with a cartoonish frown. Above his brother’s head, in the same red, was a shoddily drawn crown.
“The new owner doesn’t like you very much,” I noted.
Ace let out a bitter snort. “Unless Kyan Quinn Beaumont ran into a lot of money far too quickly, the new owner of my estate isn’t the one who did this.”
The name rang a distant bell in my mind, but I couldn’t place it.
“New owner left it up, though,” Rogue noted, peering at the portrait with interest.
“He did.”
“Does that narrow it down?” I asked.
“It means they knew who the place belonged to,” Ace said. “But that’s no surprise.”
Ace was still staring at the piece, though, and there was a shadow in his eyes as if he were etching it into memory.
It was past the next hallway that we finally ran into a sign of life.
“Ah,” Ace said, peering through a partly open door. “We’ve found him.”
I glanced through the door after him.
Across the living room, past pool tables, and side tables laden with glasses and liquor, I saw a man with his feet kicked up on a gilded couch, reading a paper and sipping a hot drink.
He looked perhaps mid-forties, with a few flecks of age in his dark hair which was drawn up in a ponytail, and he had a neat goatee on his chin.
I drew back, letting Rogue peer after me, then turned back to Ace.
“Do you know him?” I asked.
Ace looked… disappointed, I thought. “Roman Vane. You know, it could be worse.”
“Is he dangerous?” Rogue asked as he stepped back.
Ace snorted. “Not in the slightest. He’s a vulture. Collector. Likes stolen treasures.”
“So… what’s the plan?” I said. “The house is in his name, I—”
But he didn’t let me finish, instead shoving open the door and waltzing in.
Because of course he did.
Rolling my eyes, I followed, gun drawn.
Roman lurched to his feet as the door opened, drink clattering to the floor and his hand shot for what I could only presume was a gun at his waist. He froze mid-movement, however, as he caught sight of Ace.
Even from this distance, I could see the blood drain from his skin.
“Maverick…?” he asked, his voice cracking.
What I noticed distinctly as we entered was a shadow of movement in the hallway that led into the room. It was on the opposite side from us, but I saw the movement of two figures, maybe more.
Security?
But they didn’t enter, as if they were waiting.
And I knew what for.
They wouldn’t intervene until it became clear who they would do best supporting.
Me and Rogue, on the other hand, were stuck with the idiot sauntering in with nothing but a sceptre dragging on the marble floor. Without a choice, we’d both trained our weapons on Roman Vane.
Just like bodyguards.
For Thistle, I reminded myself. Not this giant prick.
I couldn’t help but glance at Rogue quickly. He had matched me, but he looked more curious than annoyed.
Apparently, I did have an ounce more pride than him.
“Roman Vane,” Ace drawled. “How… unsurprising, if a little disappointing.”
I was trying to pull up any scrap of information I might know about this man. I wasn’t in the same circles as Ace had been, but some did cross, yet I pulled up nothing from memory.
Roman was an Alpha. Now we were in the room I could properly catch his scent of elderberries. It had been lingering about these halls, though faint enough I hadn’t been able to name it until now.
“Disappointing?” Roman asked, still trying to keep the quiver from his voice. His hand was still on the gun, but he hadn’t drawn it. Again, his eyes slid nervously to the hallway, but there was no further movement from his security.
Of course there wasn’t.
And he knew, just like we did, that he was alone if he couldn’t convince this room that he was in charge.
Ace looked around, from him, to us, to the hallways, not speaking a word as he let the chips settle. There was a delighted smile edging onto his lips as he waited.
I felt the faintest chill down my spine, and I wondered if Rogue felt it, too. There was something masterful about the way Ace moved through this world. Something… absolute. I’d felt it as I’d been dragged by his guards into the ballroom the day he’d swapped mine and Rogue’s roles.
He’d been lounging on an armchair in another man’s home as if it were his. He had spun a new reality where in the blink of an eye, my fate, my life, was at his whim instead of Rogue’s.
Rogue hadn’t cowered like Roman was now, and still, I’d believed it. I’d felt it. I’d known, without the first shadow of a doubt that just like that, my fate was his.
I knew what Roman was feeling, and I was sure Rogue did, too.
The difference between me and Roman, though, was on that day, I had welcomed finality. I frowned, prodding at that feeling again. And as I did, I realised it wasn’t the only time I’d felt it.
It had been the first of two.
The second had been the moment I’d stepped from Thistle’s room after I’d won the bidding war for her. Even then, when I’d known her for the briefest flash of time, my centre of gravity had shifted.
I’d felt it when I’d left her, as if doing so was wrong. As if she’d already begun to tighten her grip upon my soul.
I needed to stop comparing the two of them, but it was all but impossible.
“How was the interest?” Ace asked, dropping onto the couch Roman had just vacated. It looked all the more arrogant because he was still in socks.
Roman took one look around at me and Rogue, at the shadows in the hall who hadn’t made a move, and dropped down to his knees before Ace.
“Please—I’ll give it all back, I had no idea you were still—”
“How was the interest in the place?” Ace asked again, cocking his head, voice cold.
“There was a lot,” Roman stammered.
Ace was looking about the room absently, then glanced back at Roman, his eyes narrowing on his waist. Roman fumbled to grab his gun from his belt, and then, to my utter shock, shoved it into Ace’s hand.
“That,” Rogue muttered to me, “is one hell of a reputation.”
Ace peered at the gun curiously, then tossed it onto the couch beside him, not even out of Roman’s reach.
“Who wanted it?” he asked.
“Everyone, of course,” Roman blurted. “Juno. Beckett. Morrigan—she wanted it for the tunnels beneath, I don’t think it was personal. Elias Duvant, I think he was already planning the remodel—”
“A remodel?” Ace asked, expression hardening.
“After… after what you did to his castle in Marseille.”
Ace rolled his eyes. “So… what do you think? You’ve been to a good few of my parties, haven’t you? You were there when I discovered Jorden Ryland was embezzling, or Aaron Richards tried to put his hands on my security…”
Roman blanched further with each mention.
“What happened?” Ace tapped the sceptre against his temple. “Help me remember?”
“You… killed Richards on the spot.”
“I did, didn’t I? What about Ryland? That was fun.” He looked at us now, as if bragging. “Peeled his skin off and fed it to him.” Ace chuckled. “He threw up what… two or three times before he finally kicked it from blood loss.”
“Five…” Roman looked ready to pass out.
“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 is your stomach, 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 I was curious.
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.
Oof…
“I take it you don’t like that guy,” Rogue said.
Ace turned back to us, disgust in his eyes. “He thought this place was his,” he said, like that explained everything. “Anyone else here?” Ace asked the guards, as me and Rogue tucked our guns away.
“No, Sir. He was a loner. Didn’t even have many visitors.”
Ace nodded. “Alright. Strouse,” he said, talking to the taller of the two guards with greying hair, and a neatly trimmed beard. “I want half your men in a new location.”
“We have enough security,” I growled.
“For you, maybe, Knox.” Ace gave me a smug smile. “Not for me. And certainly not for her.”
I scowled. “They can stay on the perimeter only.”
They were clearly loyal to him, which boded well for Thistle, but I was barely confident Ace had provisioned for her safety, let alone me and Rogue. I wasn’t giving him more control. That said, if I didn’t take his performance today seriously I would be a fool.
Conquered by Thistle or not, he was still a dangerous Alpha. So I’d give him that, and make sure my security knew to keep an eye.
“Why did you let him go?” Rogue asked, looking back at Ace.
“It was necessary.”
I frowned. “Necessary?”
“Yes,” Ace said. “There’s a party coming up, isn’t there? Best that the rumour gets out.”
“A party?” Rogue asked.
“In the Ring.”
I froze. “So what if there is?”
“Oh. Yeh. That’s the plan.”
“What?” I demanded.
Those were the people we were trying to avoid.
“Hope you have nicer clothes than that, Knox,” Ace said, patting my chest as he strolled by me. “I’m going, and you’re my special guest, so you’d better look your best.”
TWENTY-THREE
THISTLE
I settled in after Knox had left, happy to sketch while a TV show ran in the background as Vance and Tanisha bickered about kitchen décor.
After a while, a female alpha entered from the hallway. She had long red hair, a lean frame, and there were what looked like old burn scars across her face. I tried not to stare at them, smiling as she introduced herself as Petal. I had never been around a female alpha before. Her scent was like a rain forest—and I found it calming.
“Oh! I should ask. Is Bunny a nest or a pack mate?” Callum asked me, eyeing the way I held him close.
“Uh…” I glanced down at him. Probably both, but mostly… “He’s pack.”
Vance groaned, digging in his pocket and tossing a bill on the table. Petal scooped it up happily. “Knew it.”
“You’ve seen me around?” I asked.
“When you’re out on the grounds or in the ballroom. We keep an eye on the place when stuff’s tense.”
“So… are you a pack?” I asked.
“One big happy family,” Callum supplied. I didn’t prod further, though I wondered if that meant they were bitten in.
“How many?” I asked. “Are there more Omegas?”
“Nah. Just me and Tanisha. And right now we have six.” Callum began counting off on his fingers, nodding to the people in the room. “For Alphas we got Petal, then Saint and Fang—but they don’t come out much.”
Three Alphas, two Omegas, and one Beta.
That seemed like a well-balanced pack—or family.
Whatever they wanted to call it.
They started playing a game with dice, though I was happy to watch while I snacked on cold Poptarts. I hadn’t grown up in a family that played many games, everyone was tense and angry, and nothing like the playful energy in this room as Vance flopped back on the couch when he lost.
“So,” Vance asked from where he lay on the couch, eyeing me with interest. “You and Knox?”
“Yup. He’s—”
“Special?” Vance supplied.
I frowned at Vance, unsure.
Did he like Knox?
“Oh.” Vance chuckled, catching my expression. “No. You got us wrong. We just know Knox is a good man. He deserves a bit of happiness.”
“Most people don’t understand how special he is,” Petal said. “It’s just nice to see someone does. And… I don’t know. It’s kind of nice that you aren’t his scent match. After everything, I think it makes it more important.”
