Page 76 of My Unhinged Alphas
Which is not good. But it’s better.
I look back at him. “And now what?”
Vale’s expression closes down a little. “Now we figure out why he had you.”
I let out a quiet breath through my nose. “Love that. Really comforting.”
Havoc studies me for a second, then says, “He wanted something. Men like that always do.”
“Sure,” I say. “But I don’t think you need me here to figure out why.”
Neither of them says anything, so I keep going, because momentum feels useful and panic definitely doesn’t. “He was obviously one of those men who keeps a secret basement and says things liketrust mewith his whole chest,” I say. “Awarehouse-romantic. A murder-date enthusiast. A woman-in-the-trunk connoisseur. Pick your nightmare.”
That actually makes Havoc pause and think.
Then he says, almost reluctantly, “You’re probably right.”
Relief flashes through me so fast it almost makes me dizzy.
There.
There it is. My way out.
If I can make them believe I’m harmless, if I can make myself small enough, compliant enough, nonthreatening enough, then maybe this ends with them opening the door and letting me leave. Maybe I can walk out of here, call Jess, shower for three days, and pretend none of this ever happened.
Not the kidnapping. Not the basement. And definitely not the sex.
I’m still furious about that, actually. Furious that Havoc used me like some kind of twisted way to get under Vale’s skin. Furious that I let it happen. Furious that my body enjoyed being part of whatever the hell that was.
But anger can wait.
If sex is what made them look at me like I’m soft, overwhelmed, manageable, then fine. I can use that. I’ll be the perfect, compliant victim. Not fighting. Not asking the dangerous questions. Not worth the trouble of keeping.
I can do that.
I lift my chin a little and aim for calm. “So if I’m not part of whatever creepy hostage scrapbook situation he had going on, then I’m just… collateral damage, right?”
Havoc doesn’t answer right away.
Vale has gone quiet beside him. Completely quiet. He isn’t looking at me now. He’s looking somewhere over my shoulder, jaw tight, expression giving away nothing. That silence says more than either of their words ever do.
I ignore it and keep my eyes on Havoc. “I mean, I’m not useful,” I say, making my voice lighter than I feel. “No secret enemies. No hidden inheritance. No mystery bloodline. I make coffee and overthink things. That’s the whole brand.”
Havoc watches me with a look I don’t trust for a second.
I keep going anyway. “So,” I say, with a small shrug, “if you’ve got your answer that he was just some deeply deranged woman-collector with a kidnapping hobby, then I can go. I’m practically harmless.”
The door slams open so hard it cracks against the wall.
I jump.
Havoc barely turns, but Vale’s head snaps up immediately.
Knox fills the doorway like he brought the tension in with him.
But he’s not just tense. He’s furious.
There’s a file in his hand, edges bent where he’s gripping it too hard, and his eyes lock on me so fast my stomach drops. “If you’re so harmless—what the hell,” he says, voice low and dangerous, “are you doing in the Brotherhood’s files?”
