Chapter 140
Chapter 140
You’ll never be Alpha, Theo.
Because you can’t take.
You only beg.
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You only perform dominance like a boy jerking off in his brother’s stolen crown, flinching every time the omega moans too loud. You break your own gaze when Riot looks at you. You leash the beasts, but they don’t follow. They just wait. Wait for someone who smells like death and heat and flesh earned the hard way.
I smirk at those thoughts, deep inside where he can’t reach, where Riot still burns–and let my expression flicker like I’m afraid. Let it stutter like prey. Let my bottom lip tremble prettily, right there under the spit he smeared across my face, as I gently fold my hands on my thighs like I don’t want to use them to climb him and snap his ribs with my cunt.
Let my lashes flutter, slow, thick, delicate.
Let my shoulders hunch, vulnerable.
“Get up.”
I blink once, deliberately slow, and whimper. “W–What… Why?”
My voice is milk–soft, lips parted in breathy confusion, like he’s asking me to kneel on thorns. Like I’m too stupid, too small, too bred–for–fucking to understand. I tuck my knees tighter under me like I want to disappear, like I’m ashamed of being on the floor, like I haven’t spent the last hour fisting Riot’s blood into my mouth just to feel closer to god.
He steps toward me. I gasp. Just a little. Sharp enough to flash fang–then hide it.
“Up,” he snarls again, grabbing my arm.
I squeal.
Goddess, I squeal. High–pitched. Raw. Nails digging into my own skin like I’m afraid, like I want to run, like
this is real.
He yanks.
My body folds up slow, ragdoll–soft, head bowed, chest heaving.
I whisper, “Please don’t make me…”
He’s breathing heavily. I smell it.
“You’re going to walk,” he says, voice cracking over dominance he doesn’t know how to hold. “You’re going to apologize for what you did and submit to me.”
9:35 Thu, Sep 4
Chapter 140
Oh, what a predictable jerk!
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Inside I’m smiling. Inside I’m climbing him already. With submission he doesn’t know is sharp, with obedience that slits throats. With every step he makes me take, I let my thighs press tighter, tighter, tighter, as if I’m quivering in fear–but really I’m just holding the heat in, choking it between my legs like I might drown the fucking room with it.
“Say it,” he growls.
My lashes flutter.
“I’m sorry…”
Theo steps closer.
I step back.
I shake.
He eats it up.
He wants me to bow. To drop. To whimper like I did when I first got chained up, legs bruised and cunt dripping with Riot’s rot, begging for water through cracked lips.
“You’re not doing it right,” Theo hisses, grabbing my chin. “On your knees.”
I flinch. On purpose. Let my lips tremble around a silent sob. Let a string of spit wet my bottom lip. Let my eyes go glassy like I’m scared to disobey. And I drop.
One knee. The other. Thighs parted just enough. Chin tilted just high enough.
He watches me like he thinks he’s won something.
“Say it like you mean it,” he grunts.
I look up at him through my lashes, mouth slightly open, spit blooming slow over my tongue. “I submit…”
His pupils dilate. His breath catches. I see it–see it–the way his hand twitches, like he wants to touch, wants to claim, wants to rub his fear against the slick he thinks is mine.
So I lean forward.
Just a little.
Let my tongue touch my lip. “Want me to say your name?”
“Jessica-” It comes out broken. Raw.
“I’ll be good,” I whisper, breath fogging the front of his pants. “I’ll do everything you want.”
I let my fingers drift up my thighs, soft. Innocent. I look like a girl preparing herself for her master. But my
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Chapter 140
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nails dig into my skin, anchoring me to my rage, to my plan, to the blood–song Riot left inside me.
“Is that what you want to hear, Theo?” I blink up at him. Innocent. Mewling. Contagious.
He stiffens. His breath shortens.
“You want me to crawl?” I murmur. “Tell you I miss your hand in my hair? That I regretGrayson’s knot, his claim, his scent still wrecking my cunt?”
He says nothing.
So I spread my thighs wider, just a breath. Just enough.
And smile.
A slow, butcher’s smile.
“I can pretend,” I purr, voice syruped with rot. “I can say you’re the Alpha. I can choke on it. Cry, even. Want
that?”
His mouth parts.
He wants it.
He thinks this is the moment he reclaims me–his voice in my mouth, his order on my knees, his slap making me holy again.
But he’s already losing.
“You can’t fuck me into forgetting him,” I whisper against his collar. “But you can try. And cry while you do it.”
He snarls like it’s real rage–but it’s not–it’s the tremor of a boy choking on a role too big for his throat. His hand fists my hair but I’m still smiling. Even when he jerks me up. Even when my knees split open on the stone again. Even when his grip closes on my collar like he made it.
He’s not taking me. He’s delivering me. Because he can’t keep me.
I don’t scream when he hauls me across the corridor, when the rusted metal door shrieks open, when I feel the breath of them inside–the hybrids, the things he couldn’t control, the things Riot warned me about.
“JESSICA-”
Riot screams, and I realize I forgot to tell him about this part of the plan–forgot to warn him that I’d be fed to Theo’s failed children just long enough to smell them, learn their mouths, crawl through their cages so I’d know how to break them later. But his voice makes the hybrids twitch, makes them sniff, makes them sway forward in the dark like they know his name means bleed.
“Ah!”
I flinch–not for him, but because it’s better if Theo thinks it matters–when he shoves me into the cell. My shoulder smacks damp stone. My knees slide through old milk and worse.
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Chapter 140
His hybrids are quiet now.
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“You’ll stay here,” he says, jaw clenched like he’s trying not to look at my mouth, “until you’re ready to submit.”
I blink up at him, slow.
Innocent.
Slut.
Hunter.
“Submit?” My voice cracks sugar–sweet. “Is that the word you like when you touch yourself to my screams?”
His eyes flash.
His hands don’t move.
He’s too afraid to open the door again.
“I’ll be ready,” I promise, dragging my fingers through the filth and pressing them to my lips like communion, like obedience, like he hasn’t already lost the altar. “Soon. Real soon.”
One of the hybrids–tall, broken–necked, twitching like it’s half–flesh, half–maggot–crawls forward behind me, sniffing. Its breath is warm and wet and wrong against my spine.
Theo swallows.
And walks away.
He shuts the outer gate.
Locks it.
Like that’ll save him when I rise.
AD
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