Page 81 of Knot Their Arrangement

Only to end up here anyway.

A single tear escapes despite my best efforts, trailing down my cheek. Maharaja's eyes follow its path, his lips curling into a cruel smile as he interprets it as submission rather than fury.

He has no idea that I'm crying for my own foolishness.

For believing, even for a moment, that I could have something pure and beautiful. That I could experience real connection with Alphas who saw me as an equal rather than property.

Damon. Kieran.

Their names echo in my mind like a prayer, even though I know they can't hear me. They're probably still in their VIP booth, assuming I left without saying goodbye.

By the time they realize something is wrong, I'll be long gone.

The thought of never seeing them again hurts more than Maharaja's grip on my throat. One perfect night of feeling valued, desired, respected –and now this.

The universe's cruel reminder that Omegas like me don't get happy endings.

We get what we're given, and right now, all I'm being given is a choice between submission and destruction.

Maharaja leans in, his nose trailing along my neck in a deliberate show of dominance. The action makes my skin crawl, memories of gentler touches from earlier turning to ash in my mind. His aggravated sigh carries none of the appreciation I'd heard in Damon's voice – only disgust and rage.

"Of course you'd be a whore," he growls, his fingers tightening around my throat until spots dance at the edges of my vision. "You run away from the sanctuary we provided thanks to our business deal with that foolish man you deem a Father, to go fuck any Alpha that moves."

His words drip with venom, each one carefully chosen to wound.

"You think you were doing yourself a favor? Trying to find a way out by riding a rich man by coming to Cardinal?"

The hold on my throat vanishes suddenly.

I gasp desperately for air, but the relief is short-lived. The crack of his palm against my cheek echoes through the car, the force of it snapping my head to the side.

Pain blooms across my face, hot and sharp. I stare at him with wide eyes, taking in the manic fury that has transformed his features into something barely human.

The scar on his face seems to pulse with each ragged breath he takes.

"You're going to learn tonight that none of those fuckers can stop me." His voice drops lower, taking on an edge of smug satisfaction. "I'm richer than all of them, and once the final deals are passed, I'm going to be richer than your useless father as well. Then I can discard you like the piece of trash you are."

I'm still processing his words when the second slap lands on my other cheek.

The symmetrical pain makes my face burn, not from embarrassment but from the sheer brutality of the impact. I can feel the heat radiating from where his hands struck, know there will be marks that match his fingers perfectly.

His attention shifts to my feet, to the diamond-encrusted sandals that Kieran had so carefully placed there hours ago. A frown creases his brow as he crouches down, his movements suddenly precise and controlled.

"No wait! Those are borrowed—" My protest ends in a shriek as his hand tangles in my hair, using it as leverage to slam my head against the dashboard.

The impact is devastating.

Pain explodes through my skull, white-hot and all-consuming. The sound of my head hitting the glass-finished surface seems impossibly loud in the confined space of the car.

"You're not deserving of such lavish gifts," he snarls, still gripping my hair. "And nothing a man has given you will remain in your possession."

When he finally releases me, I slump back against the seat. Something warm trickles down the side of my face –blood,I realize distantly. The metallic scent of it mingles with his burnt rubber rage, making my stomach turn.

I watch through blurring vision as he yanks the sandals off my feet, throwing them with violent force into the muddy grass beside the car. The diamonds catch the streetlight one final time before disappearing into the muck – like stars being swallowed by darkness.

The passenger door slams with enough force to rock the entire car. I barely manage to snatch my arm back in time, the rush of air from the closing door brushing against my skin like a warning.

Everything seems to be moving in slow motion now. My head throbs with each heartbeat, the pain radiating outward from the point of impact. Nausea rises in waves, and I recognize the symptoms from first aid training – possible concussion.

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