Chapter Fourty

Chapter Fourty
Oliver paused… then turned.

The smile that spread across his face wasn’t sweet—it was slow, filthy with intent. He bent deliberately, spine arching just enough to be unmistakable, moonlight sliding over him like it belonged there.

“Don’t try to pretend, Alpha Grey,” he said, voice low and unapologetic. “Anyone with a pulse can tell you’re interested.”

His eyes dragged over Grey without shame, without permission. He straightened just enough to look him dead in the eye.

“Look at you,” Oliver murmured. “Standing there, jaw tight, pretending you’re not imagining all the ways you could take me.”

The air went thick.

“Maybe,” he continued, stepping closer—too close—“if you got on your knees and begged like you meant it…” His smile sharpened, cruel and inviting all at once. “…I’d let you touch.”

Grey didn’t move.

But the night betrayed him.

His breath was no longer steady, chest rising slow and heavy, control straining like a wire pulled too tight. His eyes had gone dark—no pretense left there now, no polite distance. Just hunger held back by will alone.

“You should stop,” he said, voice rough, stripped of its smoothness. It wasn’t a command. It was a warning—mostly to himself.

Oliver’s smile widened.

“Oh?” he murmured. “Or what?”

He tilted his head, exposing his throat in a way that was anything but submissive. A challenge. “You’ll lose control?” Oliver whispered. “Again?”

That did it.

Something ugly and aching flashed across Grey’s face—regret, hooded recognition, want all tangled together. His jaw clenched hard enough to hurt.

“You don’t know what you’re playing with,” Grey said quietly.

Oliver stepped back just out of reach, slow and deliberate, satisfaction burning in his eyes. “That’s where you’re wrong,” he replied. “I know exactly what you are.”

Before Grey could react, His toe slid boldly along Grey's pants, tracing a teasing path upward until it pressed against the alpha's straining hardness, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that sent heat surging through him. "Let's be honest, Alpha Grey," he purred, voice a silken challenge laced with dark promise. "You're aching to unravel my secrets, just as I'm dying to bare yours. Invite me to your pack... and we'll have all the time in the world for that intimate talk. Hmm?"

Grey's breath hitched, his alpha instincts warring with iron control as the omega's foot coaxed a low growl from his throat, the friction igniting pheromones that thickened the air like smoke. His eyes darkened to storm clouds, locking onto the omega's defiant gaze—equal parts predator and prey in this charged dance. 

Grey's hand shot out, clamping around Oliver's ankle in a grip firm yet careful, halting the tormenting caress while his thumb traced the delicate bone in a subtle, possessive stroke. "Intriguing gambit," he rumbled, voice gravel-rough with banked desire disguised as observation, holding the foot steady without release.

The omega's lips curved into a wicked smile, undeterred, as he leaned in, his free foot now brushing Grey's inner thigh in a fresh wave of provocation. Grey's control frayed further, the alpha's length throbbing under the persistent tease, but he shoved back, pinning the omega against the wall with his body—close enough to feel every heated breath. “Come on.” Oliver whispered against Grey's jaw, nipping lightly, “Not willing to invite me?”

"I thought you couldn't stand the sight of me? What's with the sudden change—what exactly are you plotting behind that wicked smile?" Grey rumbled, his voice a low gravel edged with suspicion, his dark eyes narrowing as he held Oliver's gaze without flinching, unconsciously pulling his foot closer instead of away.

Oliver's lips twitched into a sharper grin, unyielding under the alpha's hold, his exposed throat still a taunting invitation as Grey's pheromones swirled thicker between them. He didn't pull away, instead flexing his foot just enough to remind Grey of the heat still pulsing there, eyes gleaming with secrets. "That's exactly why you need to invite me to your pack, Alpha," he murmured, voice dripping with velvet challenge. "Let's get to know each other... properly. Huh? Don't you want to know what I am plotting and how it concerns you?"

Grey stared at Oliver for a long, charged moment, his dark eyes flickering with restrained fire before he abruptly released the omega's ankle, shoving his leg back toward him with a controlled flick that contradicted the tremor in his grip.

Oliver laughed—a low, throaty sound laced with triumph at Grey's feigned indifference, the sound curling through the thick air like smoke as he drew his legs in, utterly unrepentant. Grey straightened, pulling away as his fingers deftly adjusted his rumpled trousers and shirt, smoothing the betraying wrinkles from the omega's provocative assault while his pulse thundered beneath the surface.

"I'll be free tomorrow," Grey said, voice a rough murmur stripped of pretense, jaw set as he met Oliver's gleaming gaze. "9 PM. Come to the pack borders if you're serious."

"9 PM it is," Oliver agreed, his voice a smooth purr of victory as he turned his back with deliberate grace, a smug smirk curling his handsome lips—hidden from Grey but radiating in every line of his posture.

He paused at the threshold of shadow and moonlight, glancing over his shoulder with eyes that promised delicious unraveling. "Don't keep me waiting, Alpha," he added, the words laced with wicked anticipation, before vanishing into the night like a secret too tempting to ignore.

Oliver disappeared and reappeared close to Iron Fang. Immediately, he realised that he was alone. For a heartbeat, he stood there, head tilted, listening one last time—just to be sure.

Then he laughed.

It started low, a soft exhale that shook his shoulders. Then it broke free, spilling out of him in rough, breathless bursts. The sound echoed through the trees, too loud, too real to be contained. He bent forward, one hand braced on his knee, laughter ripping through him like something long caged and finally released.

“Oh,” he breathed between laughs, eyes gleaming. “Oh, Grey…”

He straightened slowly, wiping at the corner of his eye as if amusement had drawn tears from him. The smile on his face wasn’t pretty. It was sharp. Dangerous. Oliver tipped his head back, staring up at the fractured moonlight filtering through the towering trees. Three years of waiting. Three years of becoming something unrecognizable. Stronger. Smarter. Patient.

Too patient.

“I’m done waiting,” he murmured, voice smooth as a blade sliding free of its sheath. “I gave you time. I gave the world time.”

His laughter faded into a quiet, satisfied hum as he lowered his gaze again, eyes burning now with intent.

“This?” He gestured vaguely toward the direction he’d come from, toward Grey, toward the past. “This is only the beginning.”

The air around him seemed to shift, as if the night itself leaned closer to listen.

“My revenge,” Oliver said softly, savoring the words, “has just begun.”

Oliver didn't retreat to his office as expected. Instead, he strode back into the heart of the pack land, where vigilant guards snapped to attention at the sight of him, their voices booming in unison: "Alpha Oliver!" as he passed with purposeful strides, the crisp night air carrying echoes of thumping bass and sensual giggles spilling from the third pack hall.

He paused at the threshold, the double doors flung wide to reveal a sprawling underground club pulsing with chaotic energy.

Nudity reigned unchecked: omegas lounged brazenly on velvet couches, skin glistening with sweat and spilled drinks, while pairs and trios tangled openly in the dim glow—graceful forms arching in ecstasy as fingers and mouths explored without restraint, moans blending into the music. One cluster drew the eye: two omegas locked in fervent union atop a low table, slick bodies sliding together amid shattered glass and discarded bottles, their release scenting the air with intoxicating sweetness that drew envious glances from the crowd.

Bar counters drowned in sticky spills, omegas slinging shots while finger-fucking holes between pours, the stench hitting like a gut-punch, cocks hardening and ass weeping on instinct.

Spotlit on a sweat-slick platform, three male omegas knotted in shameless sync: first ass-up, hole gaping around the second's fat cock buried balls-deep, pounding with wet slaps; second taking it raw from the third's veiny thrust, their hips snapping as one brutal machine—pre-cum flying from the first's frantic fist-stroke, moans tearing free in ragged harmony. Nearby, three females writhed on a cum-soaked banquette: bottom one legs-wide, scissored raw by the second's grinding clit-mash, while the third rode that face-tongue deep, bodies rolling in slick gushes and heaving tits, peaking in a squirting flood that drenched the pile amid ass-plunging fingers.

It felt as though the omegas had gone a full week without suppressants, saving themselves for this night alone. There were no alphas prowling, no betas lingering—only omegas, giving and taking pleasure freely. No cruelty. No contempt. Just heat, consent, and want, shared without fear. Oliver would've loved to join them, but too bad; he wasn't the type to partake in such activity. Not because he found it disgusting, but because he was still shy.

On nights like these, Oliver and Rowan usually disappeared into Oliver’s bedroom, where restraint never followed them. But tonight was different. Rowan had been sent ahead—Oliver’s spy, tasked with gathering information on Valen—and wouldn’t return for some time. Which meant Oliver would be able to move freely tomorrow night, without interference.

With it in mind, Oliver walked deeper into the hallway and straight into a sight that would scar him for the rest of his life.

Oliver stood frozen in the doorway, his face flushing a deep crimson as the raw, rhythmic sounds hit him like a wave. Evelyn's human boyfriend, Liam, lay flat on his back across the polished hardwood floor, sweat glistening on his toned chest, while Evelyn straddled his waist with feral intensity—her pert ass arching high before slamming back down, engulfing his thick cock in one swift, greedy plunge. Both utterly naked, her full breasts bounced wildly with each frantic thrust, nipples hardened peaks slicing through the humid air, their moans weaving into a primal symphony that drowned out Oliver's ragged, surprised breaths.

Oliver backed away silently, heart hammering, but his retreat halted abruptly as Evelyn's voice sliced through the haze, sultry and knowing, her head turning slightly without fully disengaging from Liam's spent form beneath her. "Embarrassed? Shouldn't be. This is a day to let go. Where is Rowan, hmm?" Evelyn purred, her lips curving into a wicked smile, eyes locking onto Oliver's flushed face from across the room.

Liam stirred lazily, chuckling low as Evelyn remained seated on him, his softening cock still nestled inside her, a trickle of their mingled release glistening on her inner thighs. Oliver's flush exploded into full blaze, hands clenching at his sides, but her casual command held him captive, arousal spiking anew at the brazen exposure. "Rowan... he's, uh, out—scouting," Oliver stammered, voice soft, "You guys should move to your bedroom. People c..oul..d see you he....re"

After saying that, Oliver hurried off.