He’d hidden out in Levi’s office instead, in a hidden room that only Baal, Oberon, and Koah knew about. Not even the Leviathan’s secretary had known he was there.
Oberon hadn’t so much as set foot in the parking lot, keeping away from the building to help sell it and avoidsuspicion. Since they couldn’t risk communicating through a device either, the two of them had gone just shy over forty-eight hours with no contact.
And it was driving Fenrir half mad.
Maybe that was why he was so eager to tear these assholes apart. To direct that anger and frustration outward instead of keeping it in.
Say what you will about Michelle, but she’d certainly done one thing right with him.
In the end, she’d turned him into the weapon she’d always desired.
Too bad for her it was being used to destroy everything else she’d built.
As Fenrir went on the hunt for Trick, he wondered how Oberon was doing.
His alpha’s job was to catch Michelle’s eye and keep her too preoccupied to notice anything was wrong.
Fenrir’s was to shatter that illusion once it was too late for her to do much about it. Ultimately, they were a red herring, however, meant to help turn attention off the estate so that the White Frost member who was undercover could search for Rebirth.
Was the plan reckless and a tad bit frivolous? Yes.
That might be why Fenrir liked it so much. It was just like the alpha who’d come up with it.
Ready to put his part to work now that he’d blown off some steam, he stormed down the hallway on the upper level where the offices were kept. That’s where Trick would be, since he always spent his time there, watching the live feed of the stage and the crowd. He didn’t trust the surveillance team with the task on their own and always insisted on keeping an eye on the events himself.
It was also an opportunity to get a read on their clientele. He made notes if he saw someone take a particular interest in one of the products, or a certain type. Information jotted down to be used at a later date to sway someone to their side or curry favor. There was a reason Michelle trusted him so much.
He was the real Wolf. The one man she’d fallen for.
The one thing she’d truly protect with her life.
And Fenrir was going to put a bullet between his eyes and an icicle through his heart.
Every time he’d been forced to wear a mask and be paraded through those shitty parties, or called by the title Wolf, a part of him had raged. Knowing that he was merely a cover for her true love, another smokescreen meant to protect him for her sake, somehow made it all worse.
His instincts had been twisted by her, made to rely on her for comfort the way a proper omega would rely on their alpha. She’d successfully enslaved him with her pheromones, yet rubbed her true affection for another in his face. Trick and her romance was a well-kept secret that she’d never had the decency to also hide from Fenrir.
He’d always known what they were to each other.
What that made him.
To Michelle, Fenrir was nothing more than product. He’d been fooling himself to think otherwise, and now, thanks to Oberon, he’d gotten his reality check.
The two of them had always played good cop bad cop with Fen. Since Michelle’s need to have his subconscious associate her pheromones with safety and calm, she could never be the one to execute his punishments herself. Pheromones were fucked like that. It didn’t matter how logically Fenrir understood she was the mastermind behind all of his suffering. The work she’d put in during those rounds of experimentation, when he’dbeen half dead and all out of his mind, had been too strong for logic to surpass.
That’d left Trick to do her dirty work for her. Which he’d relished immensely.
Fen’s mind wandered back to that night in the cave, when he’d gotten too close to the flames of the fire and had spiraled a bit. He thought of all those times he’d been locked in the stone room on level one, nothing but him and the massive fire pit, trapped with minimum ventilation and an oxygen mask to keep him from inhaling too much smoke and dying.
She’d spent a pretty penny on the mask too. High quality tech that didn’t require any other attachments. It filtered out all imperfections in air quality, ensuring that even if it became difficult to breathe, Fenrir was never at risk of true suffocation.
But that was half the fun for them, he was sure.
The fact that the mask could only do so much. Keep him alive but still make him feel like he was choking. His lungs would tighten, and he’d heave through it, gasping for clean oxygen. The high temperatures of the room would ensure the air was too dry for him to summon so much as a snowflake for longer than a flash in the pan.
The energy within him would react poorly. Snapping and growing uncomfortable beneath his skin, until he felt bloated and overwhelmed on top of everything else.
Depending on the severity of his offence, they’d leave him there for days, sometimes a full week. The result? A twisted fear of fire, but only when he was trapped with it. Only when he couldn’t get away.