Jericho's POV
The room smelled of sweat, blood, and fear. A single bulb swung overhead, casting jittery shadows across the concrete walls. I took a slow drag from my cigarette, watching the man in the chair struggle against his bindings.
Impatience clawed at me with every passing second. I continued staring at the man in front of me. His arms were tightly bound to the electric chair, the restraints biting into his skin. His face was nearly unrecognizable swollen, bruised, slashed. Blood dripped down his temples, His lip was split, one eye already swollen shut.
Sensitive. I barely even hit him.
"You know," I murmured, tapping ash onto the floor, "I don't enjoy this. But you made me do it."
He whimpered, blood bubbling between his teeth. I crouched down, gripping his chin between my fingers, forcing him to look at me.
"I'm going to ask you one more time." My voice was calm, measured. "Where is my money and goods?".
The man lifted his bloodied head, his lips curling despite the pain. "Even if I tell you, you're still gonna kill me." A humorless chuckle left him. "At least I'll die happy knowing you never found—"
"I found them."
Raphael's voice cut through the room as he strode in, holding up a bag. He tossed it to one of our men before stepping beside me.
"You know," Raphael mused, "it was pretty fucking stupid of you to stash this with your wife."
The moment those words left his mouth, the man started trembling. Interesting. I'd beaten him to the brink of death, and yet he hadn't flinched. But now? Fear bled from his pores.
"Leave my wife out of this," he rasped, desperation coating his voice. "Kill me if you want, but I beg you, Alpha, let her live. She knows nothing about this. Nothing about the kind of work I do."
I tilted my head, studying him. "Is that your last wish, Mike?".
He nodded, eyes clenched shut. A smirk curled my lips as I pulled out my gun and stepped closer.
"As you wish."
BANG!
His head slumped forward, blood gushing from the hole in his skull. I turned away, sliding my gun back into its holster.
"Dispose of his body. Deliver the money. And send my condolences to his wife." My voice was void of sympathy. "Tell her he died making a delivery."
As I stepped out of the basement, Raphael followed.
"Did you schedule a meeting with Alpha Sebastian?"
"Yes…" He hesitated, checking something on his phone. "Velvet Club. Tonight."
I stopped in my tracks, something igniting in my chest not because I would be meeting Sebastian, but because of where I was meeting him.
---
The last place I expected to find my mate was at...
A strip club.
And worse, married.
Ten fucking years. Ten years of longing for my mate, only to find her already belonging to someone else.
"Brother, I don't think Alpha Sebastian is coming," Raphael muttered, shifting anxiously. "It's been two hours. Maybe we should leave."
I barely acknowledged him, my focus pinned to the stage.
"You forget Sebastian doesn't need us. We need him. In our world and the human world, he outranks us. It's only right we wait."
Raphael sighed. "But—"
"Quiet, Raph."
Truthfully, I knew Sebastian wasn't coming. His brother had already sent word. But I hadn't come here for him.
The lights dimmed, casting the room in sultry hues of blue and red. I took a sharp inhale, shifting in my seat.
Here she comes. The DJ's voice boomed through the club. "Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for… Fairy!"
My mate's stage name. Alesia Land…. no. I refuse to call her by that bastard's name. She married that fool at nineteen. Who the fuck gets married at nineteen?
The thought of her lying next to him for the past four years made my blood boil. A cheater like him didn't deserve a goddess like her.
And then I saw her. Deep bronze curls cascaded down her back, red-plumped lips that…fuck…would look so much better wrapped around my cock. A mask shielded her emerald eyes, but I'd know them anywhere.
My gaze trailed lower.
God, she was built for me.
Perfect tits that bounced with every sway of her hips.
She smiled at the crowd, blowing a teasing kiss before gripping the pole, letting it rest between her breasts. The music pulsed as she moved, twisting her body around the metal in slow, sensual rolls. The crowd roared.
I groaned in irritation.
She climbed the pole, hooking her legs over it and hanging upside down, her curves on full display. Then she slid down, her hips grinding against the steel.
Fuck.
A deep growl rumbled in my chest. Beside me, Raphael chuckled. I ignored him, my fists clenching as my jaw ticked.
I scanned the room. Every set of eyes locked onto her. A possessive rage coiled inside me.
"Relax, brother. Your eyes are changing color," Raphael warned.
I exhaled sharply, forcing myself to focus. The song came to an end. Alesia eased to the ground, gathering the scattered bills. Her gaze swept across the crowd then landed on me.
I stilled.
Fuck.
She could put me on my damn knees, and I'd thank her for it.
She held my stare, unreadable. For weeks now, I'd been trying begging for one private dance with her. Just one. No amount of money could make her agree. Not that I actually need money to get her, if I wanted to even if she refused I would still get her.
The club had rules, at least. They didn't force their strippers into private sessions.
But Alesia… She left me no choice.
I stood, my decision already made. "Raph, you can leave. I have something to handle."
One last glance at my mate, and I smirked. She may not know it yet. But tonight, she will be mine.