Page 7 of Trapped By the Cartel

"Interesting, isn't it?" He drawled, winking slowly. "Most omegas find themselves… captivated."

I sputtered, desperately trying to regain some semblance of composure. "I was not… I wasn't looking," I stammered, the words sounding feeble even to my own ears. "It's just… you're naked! And… and big!" The last word escaped in a mortified whisper. I should not have said it.

He threw his head back and laughed, a rich, throaty sound that resonated through the clearing. It wasn't a mocking laugh, not entirely. It was… appreciative. And somehow, incredibly infuriating. "Big, you say?" He teased, wiping a stray tear from his eye. "I suppose it is rather hard to miss."

The laughter subsided, leaving a comfortable silence in its wake. His eyes softened slightly, the predatory gleam receding to reveal a hint of something else—a flicker of genuine amusement, perhaps even… kindness? It was fleeting, quickly masked by his usual aura of dominance, but I caught it nonetheless, and I didn't know what it meant.

"Look," I said, attempting a more serious tone. "This is insane. I need to go. I need to find somewhere safe."

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of challenge in his eyes. "Safe? From what, Elliot? From me?" He took another step closer, closing the distance until I could feel his breath warm against my skin. "You're not going anywhere."

"Don't be ridiculous," I retorted, trying to maintain a façade of defiance. "I'm not a prisoner." Or at least, that was what I thought.

He simply ignored my protestations, reaching out with a hand that seemed impossibly large, impossibly calloused. It enveloped my own, dwarfing it completely. The difference in size was startling—his hand rough and weathered, mine soft and slender. A jolt of unexpected sensation ran up my arm, a strange combination of nervousness and… something else. Something I didn't quite understand.

He squeezed gently, commanding without saying anything, and pulled me to my feet. My legs were shaky, protesting the sudden movement, but he steadied me with a surprising gentleness.

I hadn't put up much of a fight, I realized with a touch of shame. Perhaps it was the exhaustion, perhaps the lingeringfear, or perhaps something else entirely. There was something undeniably compelling about his dominance, his raw power. A strange sort of security in being completely controlled.

"Where are we going?" I asked, my voice barely audible. He didn't answer verbally, just turned and began walking deeper into the forest, setting a brisk pace. I followed, reluctantly at first, then with a growing sense of inevitability.

"You're awfully quiet," Damon commented after a few minutes of silence. His voice was low and resonant, easily carrying through the dense undergrowth. "Most people have a lot to say when they're being escorted against their will."

"I'm processing," I replied defensively. "It's a bit difficult to engage in witty banter when you've just been abducted by a naked wolf-shifter."

He chuckled, the sound warm and surprisingly pleasant. "Abducted? That's hardly fair. More like rescued, I think."

"Rescued from what?" I retorted, rolling my eyes. "My perfectly normal, albeit slightly chaotic, life?"

"From yourself," he countered. "You were running blind, Elliot. Headlong into oblivion."

What was he talking about? He didn't know anything about me. He might know my name and about my father, but who I really was? That he didn't know anything about.

I stopped walking abruptly, turning to face him. "And you think you have a better plan for me?"

I was just curious what he might say as an answer.

He shrugged, a gesture that was both casual and dismissive. "Let's just say I have resources. Connections. And a distinct lack of patience for pointless wandering."

And pointless wandering wasn't what we were doing in that moment?

"So, what? I'm your new pet project now?" I asked, holding back a chuckle.

"Something like that," he agreed, resuming his walk. "A fascinating one. Besides, it's not every day an omega wanders into Nightshade territory."

I frowned. "The Nightshade… is that what you call your operation?"

"A family business," he corrected smoothly. "Generations in the making." He paused, glancing at me over his shoulder. "We're involved in various ventures. Let's just say we have a hand in keeping things running smoothly."

"And what exactly does that involve?" I pressed, my curiosity overriding my apprehension.

He considered for a moment before replying. "Maintaining order. Protecting our interests. Ensuring the stability of the region." It was vague, evasive, but I suspected he wasn't lying. Not entirely, at least, and he was doing it on purpose.

"So you're… criminals?" I blurted out, regretting the question as soon as it left my lips.

I hadn't heard anything about the Nightshade, or whatever his group was called.

He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. "We prefer the term 'entrepreneurs,' Elliot. With a certain… flair for efficiency." He paused. "Don't worry your pretty little head about it. You won't be expected to participate in anything unsavory."

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