Page 75 of My Unhinged Alphas
It doesn’t help. If anything, it makes me more aware.
God.
The worst part is not that it happened. The worst part is that I liked it. Not in some vague, abstract way I can lie to myself about later. Not in a way I can twist into confusion and file under trauma response and never examine too closely.
I was into it. All of it. The roughness. The hands. The mouths. The way Vale pinned me to the wall and fucked me like he’d been holding himself back too long and couldn’t anymore. The way Havoc pushed and teased and watched for every crack in my composure and smiled when he found one.
I was into all of it. Even the parts that should probably upset me more than they do.
Vale didn’t ask with words before he slid into me. He asked with his eyes, with the way he waited half a second and then took my silence and my hands on him and my legs around him as answer.
And I wanted him there. That’s the part I can’t get around.
I wanted him.
I wanted both of them.
Which feels like the kind of realization that should come with a professional evaluation and maybe a sedative.
I swallow hard, forcing myself back into the room before I float too far away inside my own head. “Okay,” I say, because if I don’t keep talking, I’m going to start replaying everything in detail and then I may never recover. “Your turn.”
Havoc arches a brow. “Our turn for what?”
I gesture vaguely between the two of them, and immediately regret it because it makes the shirt shift against my thighs and now I’m aware of my body all over again. “For explaining why a man drugging me and tying me to a chair ended with the two of you acting like you knew what you were walking into.”
Vale’s gaze stays on me. Quiet. Heavy. A little too knowing for my comfort.
“What did this guy mean to you?” I ask.
“No,” Vale says. His voice stays even, but I can hear the frustration underneath it now that I’m actually listening for it. “We got orders to bring him in for questioning. That’s all.”
I frown. “Orders from who?”
Neither of them answers fast enough.
“Right,” I mutter. “Of course. Secret murder club. Forgot.”
Havoc huffs a laugh, but Vale keeps his eyes on me.
“We knew the location,” he says. “We knew the target. We knew he was involved in something he shouldn’t have been. We did not know you would be there.”
I shift my weight and immediately regret it because my body still feels too aware of itself, too alive under my skin. I squeeze my legs together again, trying to ignore the aftershocks that keep catching me off guard.
It doesn’t work.
I wanted more.
That realization hits me in a slow, crawling wave of shame and heat so intense I have to look away from both of them for a second.
Focus. Questions. Reality.
“So you found me by accident,” I say, forcing my voice into something steadier. “You were there for him, not me.”
“Yes,” Vale says.
That one word does more for me than any of their reassurances so far. Because it means this was not some elaborate setup. It means I wasn’t passed from one group of predators to another in some organized nightmare.
It means I just got very, very unlucky.
