8

"The scent of that female is all over you," Santiago rumbled.

The Alpha of the Vargas Syndicate took a slow pull of his drink, his amber eyes tracking Mateo with predatory precision. Mateo didn't flinch. He walked to the cooler, grabbed a cold one, and popped the cap. The metallic hiss echoed in the sudden silence of the Las Vegas Penthouse Loft. Beside them, Alejandro remained glued to the screen, his knuckles white as he watched the Silver Crest Wolves fumble a play against their rivals.

"She’s just a stray I picked up at Club Venom," Mateo said. The lie tasted like copper.

Santiago let out a low, vibrating laugh that rattled the ice in his glass. "Stiks says you nearly tore a Beta’s throat out at the Grand Chicago Ballroom just for breathing her air. That doesn't sound like a stray, Teo. That sounds like a fixation."

"I was protecting the brand," Mateo snapped. "Olivia was watching. The whole pack was watching. I had to look like I’d moved on from that human bitch."

"You need to purge Olivia Bennett from your blood," Santiago warned, his voice dropping an octave into an Alpha command. "She’s mated to a Hunter’s lapdog now. She’s dead to this Syndicate. If I see you sniffing around that ballroom again, I’ll put you down myself."

Mateo’s jaw tightened. "I’m over her."

"Then why does the dancer look like he’s been through a war?" Alejandro interjected, finally tearing his eyes from the game. "Stiks said you dragged him into the Black Chamber. You don't take Omegas there to talk about the weather."

"He needed to learn his place on the totem pole," Mateo growled. "He’s property. Nothing more. A tool to make Olivia realize she’s replaceable."

"Is he?" Santiago stood up. The sheer physical presence of the eldest Vargas filled the room, a suffocating weight of dominant power. He started toward the hallway leading to the guest suites. "Let’s see if this tool is as sharp as you claim."

Mateo stepped into his path. Fast. Too fast. His pulse hammered against his throat. "He’s resting. The trip from Chicago was long."

Santiago halted. A slow, knowing smirk spread across his face. "You’re shielding him."

"I'm protecting my investment," Mateo corrected, his eyes glowing.

"Teo, you're vibrating," Alejandro muttered from the couch. "Just let him see the kid so he leaves us alone to watch the game."

"Go to your room, Victor!" Mateo roared, the command ripping through the penthouse.

The door at the end of the hall clicked shut. The sound was a finality.

Santiago laughed, a dry, harsh sound. "You're whipped by a club dancer with no pack name. It’s pathetic. Dante would have had your head for this."

"Dante is dead," Mateo said, his voice cold. "I run the security. I run the clubs. And I run Victor Cruz. You want to talk business, Santiago? Talk. Otherwise, get out of my loft."

Santiago took a final sip of his beer and set the can on the glass table with a deliberate clink. "Fine. We talk shop. The Diamond Crown Jewelry heist was a setup. Viktor Dragunov didn't just want the stones; he wanted the chemist. He’s hunting Elena’s research."

"The Silver-Sickness cure?" Alejandro asked, leaning forward.

"He wants the virus," Santiago corrected. "He wants to turn every Omega in the Northern Territories into a rabid animal. And your little dancer? He was at the Silver Crest when the first strain broke out."

Mateo’s stomach dropped. The image of Victor—VX—shivering on the bed in the dressing room flashed in his mind. The way he’d looked at the silver medical kit with pure, unadulterated terror.

"You think Victor is infected?" Mateo asked.

"I think he's a carrier," Santiago said. "And if you’ve been marking him, Teo... if you’ve been putting your slick inside him..."

"I didn't fuck him," Mateo barked.

"Good." Santiago turned toward the door. "Because if you did, you’re already a dead man walking. Keep him locked up. If he shows a single symptom, kill him. Or I will."

The door slammed shut behind the eldest Alpha. Mateo stood frozen, the cold beer sweating in his hand. He looked toward the hallway. He could hear Victor’s uneven breathing through the wood of the door.

"He's lying," Alejandro said quietly. "Santiago just wants to rattle you so you give the kid up."

"Is he?" Mateo walked toward the guest suite. He didn't knock. He threw the door open.

Victor was huddled on the edge of the bed, his shirt unbuttoned, fingers trembling as he traced the dried marks Mateo had left on his skin. He looked up, his eyes wide and fractured.

"Mateo?" Victor whispered.

"Strip," Mateo commanded.

"What? Why—"

"I said strip! Now!"

Victor fumbled with the fabric, his face crumpling. He pushed the shirt off his shoulders. Mateo lunged forward, grabbing Victor’s jaw and tilting his head back. He searched the pale skin of the Omega’s throat, looking for the tell-tale darkened veins of the sickness.

Nothing. Just the fading scent of Vargas dominance.

"You're shaking," Victor snot sputtered, a tear catching on his lashes. "You're hurting me."

Mateo shoved him back onto the mattress. He hated the way his heart twisted at the sight of the Omega’s distress. He was a Vargas. He didn't feel. He didn't care.

"You're a toy, Victor," Mateo hissed, leaning over him until their noses brushed. "And if you're broken, I'll throw you away. Do you understand?"

Victor stared at him, the fear in his eyes hardening into something sharper. Something like hate. "I'm not the one who's broken, Mateo. You're so scared of a ghost in a wedding dress that you're taking it out on a man you bought."

Mateo raised his hand. Victor didn't flinch. He just watched him with those haunting, silver-flecked eyes.

"Get out," Mateo rasped, dropping his hand.

"This is my room," Victor reminded him, his voice trembling but steady.

"Get out of my head!" Mateo roared.

He turned and stormed out, slamming the door so hard the frame groaned. He needed a drink. He needed a fight. He needed to forget the way Victor Cruz smelled when he was crying.

Alejandro was standing by the window, watching the neon lights of the Vegas strip. "You're falling for the property, Teo."

"Shut the fuck up, Alex."

"I'm just saying. If Santiago finds out the 'Silver-Oak' bloodline isn't extinct... if he realizes who that boy really is..."

"He won't find out." Mateo gripped the balcony railing until the metal screamed. "Because I'm going to kill anyone who tries to tell him."