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by Alison Aimes
Her bowed position made it impossible to do anything but stare out at the spectacle beyond her cell. Floating overhead were twelve two-story windows arranged in a circle, each lit from within by a blood-red light that illuminated a massive throne—and the more imposing figure sitting within.
These males were the twelve most ruthless crime lords in the galaxy.
These were the Alphas who controlled the fate of every single inhabitant unlucky enough to be born into the rot and sin of the Anarcheim Alphaverse.
She’d never felt more insignificant than when bowed at their feet.
Drawn by an invisible force, her gaze rose to the window directly across the way.
Piercing amber eyes bore into hers.
Him.
The Ruthless King.
The title the Brotherhood had given him was carved into his throne and was reflected in every merciless line of his body.
Even now, after so many years, she recognized him. The boy was gone but not the mesmerizing power or the breathtaking handsomeness that had been his birthright. The scars on his neck, chest, and hands only added to his air of danger.
Gorgeous. Brutal. Huge. Red-Skinned. Horned. Nikolai Skolov was still the most beautiful Alpha she’d ever seen. With thick sloping brows, wavy jet-black hair, powerful onyx horns that curled behind his ears, a square jaw, and full sensual lips, his face was a masculine masterpiece. The five o’clock shadow that covered his stunning face blended perfectly with the rugged black skin designs on his cheeks and neck, a common trait of all Skolovs.
He was far bigger than he’d once been—larger than Olan—and his bulging arms, bare, sculpted chest, and carved abdomen were equally mouthwatering, framed by the dark fur pelt that hung off his wide shoulders and stayed strapped to his body by wide leather bands that crisscrossed down his taut stomach. The swirling skin designs that dipped beneath the waistband of his dark animal hide pants only added to his dangerous, barbaric look, as did the heavy, black boots that laced to his calves.
He was striking. Wild. Fierce. And for one brief, incredible moment years ago, she’d thought he might be her savior.
Until he became her family’s greatest enemy.
His lips pulled back into a snarl, his fangs flashing.
And she knew whatever was happening to her now was in no way better than the horrible fate she might have suffered as the prime omega of the eldest Verish son.
She understood, too, exactly why she was here and how futile it had been to believe escape might be possible.
She and her whole family were going to pay.
2
Nikolai’s claws dug into the arm of his throne, five thick grooves denting the metal, his balls heavy, his cock hard as stone.
Finally.
He only wished he could see her clearly as she bowed at his feet. Scent her. Touch her.
But the thick, dark shatterproof glass that separated all the Alpha heads was designed not only to protect from assassination attempts but to muzzle their senses and dampen their aggressive instincts, thereby preventing them from tearing each other apart. Though it barely seemed to be working now.
The gouges in his throne’s armrests grew as his claws tunneled deeper. The burn scars on his chest and arms pulled tight.
Soon.
His plans were so close to fruition he could almost taste victory.
Shoving his hand into his pocket, he fingered the chain tucked inside. His thumb traced the well-worn grooves of the necklace.
Soon.
“The meeting of the Brotherhood has begun. Alpha Nikolai Skolov and Alpha Olan Lundin, stand.” The disembodied voice of Inner Council Head, Valf Prendel, echoed through Nikolai’s sealed room, as it did for the eleven other crime heads staring out from their private chambers.
Nikolai stood, tearing his gaze away from the omega to stare at the smug, bearded face of his greatest enemy.
He could not wait to wipe that look from Olan’s face.
Actually, he could not wait to wipe out Olan altogether.
“You all know why we are here.” As Inner Council head, the Prendel crime head ran all Brotherhood meetings, his slime-based races’ love of efficiency coupled with an inability to feel emotion, making him the perfect bureaucracy head. “The feud between the Skolovs and Lundins has gone on long enough. Vendettas and discord are a way of life, but this grudge has boiled over into a galaxy-wide territorial dispute that has begun to impact all our profits. That cannot be allowed.”
Nikolai hid a smirk. There was nothing the Brotherhood hated more than a threat to their bottom line.
Prendel droned on, his green, gelatinous body oozing and contracting as he spoke. “So, the Brotherhood has determined that action must be taken.”
Exactly as Nikolai had been pushing for far too long.
“Before this begins,” Prendel paused, “and to ensure that both parties come to the trial on equal footing, Olan Lundin’s outstanding debts to Nikolai Skolov must be paid.”
Nikolai didn’t hold back his smile this time. He wished his brothers Maxheim, Alexi, and Damien could have been here for this moment, but only heads of families and property were allowed in the inner sanctum.
Still, Olan’s flash of rage was as satisfying as it got. It had to be humiliating to have it revealed that the debts he’d been racking up through bad investments and gambling losses—all orchestrated by Nikolai—were held by the one person he wanted least to owe anything at all.
It had to hurt, too, that as a result of those outstanding charges, Olan had to back out of the official bridal contract he’d forged with the Verish family and use as debt reparation the one piece of valuable property he had that was not already leveraged to the gills: his first daughter omega.
But that’s what the bastard got for trying to give what was Nikolai’s to some other male.
Nikolai suspected most of the Brotherhood thought he was crazy to take the omega as remuneration for the massive tab Olan owed him.
But revenge was priceless—and Lundin’s first daughter omega was the key.
“Do you accept the ownership rights of Olan Lundin’s first daughter, a pure, gifted omega, as a fair and equitable exchange for the financial debt you are owed?” Prendel’s eight eyes blinked as one.
“I do.”
“Excellent. The first piece of business between the Skolovs and Lundins is resolved.” Prendel’s body formed an arm-like mass and pressed a panel on the glass in front of him. Streams of data—the official contract—rushed past. “Sign and you may take possession of your new property and all financial debts between the two parties will be considered erased.”
Nikolai slammed his hand to the glass, relishing the prick as his blood oath was absorbed into the barrier and added to the contract. She was his.
Prendel nodded. “We move now to the second piece of business, again related to the Skolov-Lundin feud.”
The other warlords sat straighter on their thrones. The Brotherhood was rife with disputes and double-crosses, but at the moment, none were more interesting than this one.
“The Skolov family,” continued Prendel, “has long contended that Olan Lundin is guilty of the most heinous of Brotherhood crimes: the deliberate killing and cover-up of one of our own.”
Low growls sounded from the other Alphas, their predatory instincts rousing.
There was no more grave offense in the Brotherhood. When associates and soldiers, as well as omegas, were killed in territorial disputes, it was dismissed as collateral damage, but to take down another crime boss was to break the blood oath made when they joined the Brotherhood.
The gravity of the accusation, and the outcome of the verdict—total annihilation of the bloodline of either the accused or the accuser—was why Nikolai suspected the Brotherhood had waited so long to address his complaint. No one liked the idea of upheaval in the current power balance.
But he’d made damn sure they had no choice.
“Nikolai Skolov has accused Olan Lundin of shoot
ing the previous Kuril head of the family and setting him, and the murder site, on fire to cover up the crime.”
Olan had killed people far more significant than the Kuril crime boss in that fire, but the Brotherhood didn’t give a shit about them.
But Nikolai did, and he intended Olan to pay for all his crimes.
He looked across the way at the current head of the Kuril family.
Ever so subtly, the male nodded.
It was his predecessor who’d been killed in the fire, along with Nikolai’s own flesh and blood, and after finally hearing the Skolov side of the story, the Kuril family wanted the truth to come out almost as badly as Nikolai did.
“The Skolov accusation against Olan Lundin will now be considered. Along with Olan Lundin’s claim of innocence and counterclaim of slander.” Prendel wrapped a glob-like arm around his gavel and slammed it against the glass. “Punishment for the party found guilty will be swift and merciless, the specific means determined by the innocent party. Do you accept these terms?”
“I do.” Nikolai’s voice held no hesitation.
“I do, too.” Olan’s declaration was equally as clear. Whatever his faults, and there were plenty, the bastard was as bold and brash as ever, despite his advancing years and the stink of guilt that clung to him even now.
Prendel nodded. “The Brotherhood has your witnesses. Interrogation will begin immediately.”
“Good.” The sooner the better. Tracking down the few living beta servants who’d been working in the compound the rotation of the fire had been a challenge. Olan Lundin had killed most of them already, along with any Lundin soldiers who’d showed an interest in turning against their own. They’d ended up with their throats slit and their tongues cut out before Nikolai could get them to testify.
But thanks to his brothers’ tracking and computer skills, he’d managed to unearth a few beta servants who’d been working the rotation of the fire—and persuade them that, despite their terror, it was to their benefit to testify. Because however scared they were of Olan Lundin, they needed to be twice as scared of Nikolai Skolov.
The witnesses’ recorded testimonies recalled the same details: Olan’s fury, his threats against the Kuril head, the raised voices in the family’s private quarters, the panic of the fire, the stampede and thick smoke, and the fact that the Kuril crime boss and several members of the Skolov family never made it out alive. The witnesses also mentioned the scent of Kuril blood and the burning odor of laser shots on Olan’s skin and clothes.
One witness remembered more. Right before his mad dash out of the flames, he’d seen the Kuril crime boss and Nikolai’s mother shot and sprawled on the floor of the omega’s private quarters, already dead.
His testimony proved it wasn’t the fire that killed the previous Kuril head, but a laser attack.
But to avoid accusations of tampering or undue influence, the Brotherhood insisted on interrogating all witnesses in person. They’d assured Nikolai security would be tight.
He disliked relinquishing his most persuasive evidence to someone else’s control, but it could not be helped. Certain protocols had to be met. For an organization predicated on lawlessness, the Brotherhood was a stickler for established traditions.
“Both parties will return to their planets and cease all further retaliation strikes.” Prendel’s emotionless voice, ever intent on keeping the proceedings moving, cut through Nikolai’s thoughts. “There will also be no attempt to influence the trial or the Brotherhood through outside means.” He leveled first Nikolai and then Olan with a warning glare from eight narrowed eyes. “You will talk to no one reviewing evidence. You will undertake no personal retribution. Any attempt to do so will be dealt with swiftly and harshly.”
Nikolai hated being sidelined, but he’d expected no less.
“You will have until the end of the interrogation and trial to present additional evidence,” continued Prendel. “After that, we will make our decision and the case will be closed.”
Nikolai didn’t miss the way Prendel’s usually expressionless face hardened. No one in the Brotherhood liked Olan Lundin, but they disliked the idea of one of their own being accused of such a betrayal even more. Especially when the accusation came from the Skolov clan: an upstart, unpredictable, recent addition to the Brotherhood.
Surveying the hard faces of the other Alphas, Nikolai tried to determine who else might give him a hard time. The Verish and Lunara crime bosses weren’t happy with him since he’d moved into arms dealings, rising above them to become the top supplier in the galaxy. The Sartin family head also wasn’t a fan. The growing preference among Anarcheim’s elites to spend their money at Skolov gambling and pleasure clubs meant the other warlord’s traveling shuttles of sin were no longer as sought-after or profitable.
Nikolai’s relationship with the Stormhart family was fine, but one wrong move could send that fragile tolerance crumbling. The same went for his other allies: the Toor, Avitus, Kuril, and Gron families. Alliances were always changing within the Brotherhood, and a friend today could stab you in the back without hesitation tomorrow.
Of course, his family wasn’t the only one with more enemies than friends. No one liked the Lundins. The Gron and Namiko families hated each other, as did the Grons and the Prendels, the Grons and the Sartins, and the Grons and the Kurils. The Stormharts had only recently formed a tenuous treaty with the Avitus family after years of underhanded fighting, though no one besides them knew the initial reason for the conflict. The Toors were squabbling with the Prendels and the Lunaras over territory. The Sartin and L’kashlg crime families had just joined their syndicates through a prime omega Alpha contract, but it was rumored it wasn’t going well and ties between the two families were already fraying.
It was precisely to keep these tensions from bubbling over into all-out galactic, bloody war that the Brotherhood had formed in the first place. Survival at the top was hard enough. There were ambitious up-and-comers—like the Skolovs had recently been—looking to make a mark by striking at a Brotherhood business. The Federation, the law of the galaxy, was also always nosing its self-righteous way into syndicate business and disrupting shipping routes and confiscating valuable contraband.
Nikolai just had to hope that the proof he provided would be enough to outweigh all the exterior bullshit and petty internal disputes and bring the Brotherhood together for once.
It would definitely be an uphill battle. Especially because while the evidence he’d manage to acquire was good, none of it was the smoking gun that would convince a bunch of Alphas with a long line of sins of their own that Olan had been the one to fire the shots that led to the murder of a fellow crime boss.
That critical piece would be up to his new property to provide.
Nikolai couldn’t wait to begin his own interrogation.
“I agree to the terms.” Impatient to acquire her, he slammed his fist to his chest in the Brotherhood salute. “The Brotherhood is all.”
“The Brotherhood is all.” The other crime heads stood as well, echoing the salute.
“One moment.” Olan interrupted the closing ritual.
The hairs on the back of Nikolai’s nape rose.
Olan was never calm and cool and the fact that he was now, did not bode well.
Nikolai forced his expression to remain blank and reveal nothing of the fact that his claws had sprung out, violence surging through every pore.
She was fucking his. There was no way Olan could take her back now.
“What is it, Alpha Lundin?” Prendel sounded pleasantly annoyed. “The requirements of the trial have been laid out clearly and the debt proceedings have been taken care of. There seems little more to address. Our traditions are very clear.”
“Of course, you are right, Inner Council Alpha.” The obsequiousness in Olan’s tone was patently false. The male did not know how to be effacing or subtle. “But I would be remiss if I did not insist our traditions be adhered to in every way.”
“Explain you
rself.” Even Predel sounded suspicious.
“I don’t want it said I don’t pay my debts in full.” Olan sounded far too smug. “To ensure the value of the property is as stipulated, I invoke the right to call for assessment.”
“No.” The low growl rumbled from Nikolai before he could stop it.
Then, he silently throat punched himself for the pleased smirk that spread across his enemy’s face as Nikolai’s protest echoed into each Alpha’s private chamber.
“I want no accusations later that the property was damaged,” continued Olan. “It’s as much a protection for the Brotherhood as me.”
The conniving bastard.
Olan wanted him riled. He fucking knew the assessment and its close-quarters exposure of the omega to the other Alphas would piss Nikolai off. No Alpha liked to share what was his alone to view.
“It is not always done.” Prendel was trying to keep the peace.
“But it is my right,” insisted Olan.
“Let it be done.” Nikolai wouldn’t give the bastard the satisfaction of thinking anything he did bothered him. This fucker would never glimpse any hint of weakness in Nikolai ever again. “If Olan doesn’t feel his word is enough for the Brotherhood, let him do what it takes to prove himself.”
Olan’s snarl was satisfying.
Until Prendel spoke. “Fine. Let the assessment take place. Bring the property forward.”
3
Horror wound through Dahlia.
This could not be happening. This was not happening.
But it was.
Two betas wearing long, gray robes and hoods that obscured their faces dragged her by her forearms down another dark corridor, her bare feet once more slapping the cold tiles. Even the release from her cell was not enough to calm her breathing.
Let the assessment take place. Bring the property forward.
Her father had asked for it, and her new Alpha had casually agreed. A pissing match between two adversaries out for blood. No thought was given to the wounds such humiliation would leave behind on her soul.