They saw him maul his prize. Saw her disarmed, subdued, and ridden.

And their ovation fed Caspian’s beast.

Kieran and Toby savored his kill as well. Just as pack should.

They got the remains the monster within deigned to share.

They got her throat.

The same throat Caspian had torn with his teeth. That need had gripped him, demanding all who’d borne witness see that the hissing viper was his, no matter whose cock she swallowed.

Kieran had been the one to take her by the hair so Toby’s prick could be shoved between her gnashing teeth.

She’d bitten him good, of course. The sick fuck had gotten off on it, cumming almost immediately and swamping her cheeks with spermy cream. Whatever tension had been brewing between Alphas Two and Three was obliterated when she sputtered and coughed, following that pathetic moment by licking her lips and opening wide for more.

Kieran dipped in, Toby tending to his Second’s prostate with a clever finger and words of encouragement.

This was seen by the Syndicate. They saw all three Alphas who ruled them united in victory.

They saw an Omega of amazing capability cowed and owned by her betters.

A glorious, violent mating—truly worthy of his pack.

But even then, the insane little guttersnipe had not submitted. All saw her wriggle her way out of their embrace to seek out a new weapon, and then to scream when the Omega could not find her adopted child.

Before she had been violent. In that instant, she went stark raving mad.

The wiry teenager had been dragged away by wiser members of his gang the moment he’d been stupid enough to beg Caspian for mercy for his mom.

Dragged off like the child he was, denied the view of his guardian’s interminable and violent rebirth. And that would follow him through the years in the gang.

Once sworn, these males had only one allegiance.

The Syndicate swore fealty, abandoned family, gave all to their leader.

They didn’t cry or beg for mercy.

Alec had failed his first test of loyalty, and would be brutally punished.

He’d missed the glory of the men’s cheering—the blood the mouse had drawn from Kieran, Toby, and even Caspian.

In his sobbing state and begging pathetic wailing, he’d missed the glory of an Omega’s whirlwind of violence and lust.

God, the pretty mouse’s fierce subjugation had been beautiful.

Where she kept that side of herself when mellow and docile, Caspian could never guess. But seeing her unleashed, even just the once, was enough to slake a thirst he’d never known he might possess.

He’d jerk off to the look on her face when he first fucked into her dripping cunt for years. Feel her flesh between his teeth, the taste of her blood and his on his tongue.

The way she’d roared…

But now, after a full and proper capitulation, he did not feel vindicated.

He looked at the little Omega holding his eyes and felt a simmering disquiet.

Damage. Pain. Wounds that would scar.

Broken fingers the best doctor in Dale City was struggling to set.

A female who reeked of loss. Not joy. Not the epiphany of being owned by strong males.

One who suffered.

A grinding, soul-deep moment of realization sunk in. These were not just bite wounds. Caspian had marked the mouse. He could still feel the squish of her breaking skin in his teeth, was already eying the unmarked ankle he caressed as if ready to set his teeth to that snowy patch of skin.

And he had chomped down so many times she would be scarred with the crescent shapes of his enthusiasm for life.

Across the bed, Toby continued to pace, no longer replete or satisfied from fucking her mouth. “You should not have threatened her boys.”

Drawing up to full height, Caspian cracked his neck and at long last broke the stare he’d shared with the mouse. “Are you not proud of your mate?”

Palms slapping the mattress, rocking it enough that the Omega winced when her body shifted, Toby bellowed, “She’s your mate now too! Look at her fucking neck! At her arms, her tits. What part of her did you not maul?”

Only the slender ankle under Caspian’s stroking thumb. That was the only place that had somehow been spared in their battle.

A corkscrew of needle sharp sensation rocked Caspian back on his heels, mud brown eyes darting back toward the woman whose gaze was not shut to him. But that was not what held his attention. Bubbling antibiotic foam had been sprayed over the gouges in her neck, dripping a fizzy pink mess down her filthy chest.

Watching it, knowing the reason she bore such wounds, left his overused prick so hard it sawed at the zipper of his pants.

Kieran, arms crossed over a scratched chest, let out the most disappointed of breaths. “You marked her, yes. Get it out of your system before she hits estrous. Fuck her, fill her, knot her, whatever. Then wash your hands of this madness before we lose face.”

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