10 Chapter 10 She belongs to me
Elias’s pov:
I stormed out of the penthouse, the echo of the slamming door ringing in my ears like a gunshot. The contract was signed and Naomi’s fate sealed in ink and her reluctant submission.
But victory tasted bitter, laced with the lingering scent of her heat on my skin, her tears and pleas haunting me. I needed air, distance, anything to clear the fog of rage and unwanted desire clouding my mind. The elevator descended smoothly to the underground parking garage, the soft hum mocking my turbulent thoughts.
The garage was a cavern of polished concrete and gleaming luxury vehicles, my collection of sleek black sedans and sports cars lined up like obedient soldiers.
I spotted Adrian immediately, my beta assistant, leaning against the hood of my favorite Mercedes, arms crossed, his sharp features illuminated by the glow of his phone screen. He was the picture of efficiency: tailored suit, wire–rimmed glasses, sandy hair neatly combed, always one step ahead. As a beta, he lacked the alpha’s dominance or omega’s vulnerability, making him the perfect right–hand man— level–headed and unflappable.
“Boss,” he greeted, straightening up as I approached, pocketing his phone. His voice was neutral, but his eyes flicked over me, assessing. “Everything alright? You look like you just wrestled a rogue pack.”
I grunted, fishing the keys from my pocket. “Nothing,”
I didn’t elaborate; Adrian knew the basics–the runaway omega I’d dragged back from the shadows, the one who’d vanished three years ago after that fateful night. He didn’t know the full depth of my obsession, though. No one did.
He nodded, falling into step beside me as I headed toward the car. “I brought the files you requested on her background–poor neighborhood, dead–end job at that dingy bar. No family ties we could find. She’s clean, aside from the… associations.”
He hesitated, his beta senses picking up on my pheromones, still spiked from the encounter. “You thinking of letting her out? Maybe ease her back into things? Omegas in heat need stability, but cooping her up forever might backfire.”
I paused with my hand on the car door, the idea flickering through my mind like a bad
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habit. Let her out? To what–her rat–infested apartment in the slums, scraping by on minimum wage, vulnerable to every predator on the streets? The thought twisted my gut. No. Not yet. Not when she was still defiant, still hiding secrets behind those tear–filled eyes.
“Discard that,” I snapped, my voice echoing off the walls. “She’s not leaving this building until I say so. She ran once; she’ll run again if given half a chance. Keep an eye on her every move.”
Adrian raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. Betas were smart like that–they advised without challenging. “Understood. I’ll beef up security on the penthouse floor. Anything else? The board meeting’s in an hour–quarterly reports on the pack’s territory expansions.”
I waved him off, sliding into the driver’s seat. The leather creaked under my weight, the interior smelling of new car polish and faint traces of my own scent. “Handle it. Tell them I’ll review the minutes later. I need to drive.”
He stepped back, giving a curt nod. “Drive safe, boss. Call if you need extraction.“”
The engine roared to life as I peeled out of the garage, tires screeching on the ramp up to street level. The city blurred past–towering skyscrapers, honking traffic, pedestrians scurrying like ants. But my mind was back in that bathroom, with Naomi- trembling in the tub, her naked form glistening under the water, eyes wide with a mix of fear and lingering heat. She’d begged, gods, she’d begged so beautifully, but her lie about another alpha had shattered something in me. Cheater. Traitor. The words looped in my head, fueling the anger that masked the deeper ache.
“Fuck,” I muttered, slamming my palm against the steering wheel at a red light.
Why did she insist on going back to that shithole life? I’d seen the reports Adrian compiled–her “home” was a one–room dump in the undercity, walls thin as paper, neighbors with criminal records, no heat in winter. She worked double shifts at a greasy spoon, serving alphas who leered at her omega scent, barely making enough to
eat.
Poor living conditions? That was an understatement. It was a death trap for someone like her–fragile, unmarked, ripe for exploitation. And she wanted to return to that? After I’d offered her everything–protection, luxury, my claim?
I accelerated as the light turned green, weaving through lanes with aggressive precision. Underlying it all was this gnawing concern I couldn’t shake, despite my cold
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facade.
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