“Intact,” Ivar adds, beside me. “Make sure that she is delivered intact.”

“Naturally.” What a pity that the sneer on Lord Larsen’s face is not a punishable offense.

Ivar and I share a glance, the quirk of his brow vaguely apologetic. He knows I was hoping for an outright refusal and a quick massacre, so he must suspect how irritated I am.

He’s enjoying every second of this, the asshole.

“To ensure that the process runs smoothly and to assist you,” Ivar continues, “the general’s guards will escort the Omega to his quarters.”

At once, Martia and a dozen of her best-trained soldiers march forward—a nice little way of spelling, Try anything, and see what happens. Meanwhile, Lennart is still blinking like a dying fish. And the Omega…

I must admit, I anticipated more of a scene from her. Screams. Some tears. But she remains remarkably composed. I watch the sway of her hips as the guards escort her out of the room, the delicate way in which she bends toward the Larsen daughter to ask hushed questions.

Unexpected: her face stayed hidden for the entire ritual—unusual, if not unheard of. But her body, that I could see, and she does not resemble any Omega I’ve ever seen before. Narrow hips. An outline of strength. Not displeasing, just different. Her scent, too, is so understated, I truly couldn’t detect it. Had me wondering if she was another of the Larsens’ tricks, until I remembered what she is: cold.

My last look before leaving the hall should be a triumphant smirk toward Lord Larsen, but my eyes cannot help following the girl. “I was promised a fucking fight,” I grumble at Ivar once we’re outside, marching down the corridor that leads to the military quarters.

My brother shrugs. “I was almost sure there would be a fucking fight.”

“Yeah? Because Lord Larsen handed the Omega to me on a goddamn silver platter.”

“I never doubted he wouldn’t care. But Lennart? He may be a young Beta and not a hotheaded Alpha, but he’s still marrying out of love. Can you imagine not acting like an impulsive little shit when your family’s most powerful enemy takes your mate from under your snotty nose? Where the hell is his self-respect?”

“Maybe he left it back in his crib, since he’s a fucking infant.”

“Well, having his mate fucked by someone else will make him grow up real fast.” Ivar runs a hand through his hair. “For your sake, I hope she’s decent-looking under that thing.”

“Why?”

“She’s a cold Omega. Not your usual type, right? I figured you’re going to need some incentive to bring yourself to fuck her. Aside from revenge.”

I halt my steps, and so does Ivar. Before he can see it coming, I press a hand on his chest and slam him hard against the stone wall.

“Oh, come on, Gabe. What did I say now⁠—”

“Listen, in a few minutes, I’m going to walk into my room, and I’m going to do things to that girl that would send me to Hel. If it existed.” I hold his gaze. “The least we can do is be polite about it.”

Ivar laughs, of course. Anyone else would be pissing themselves, but my brother has always been remarkably unintimidated by my strength.

I roll my eyes. “I’m serious.”

“Right, sure. I mean—we can be polite about the dry virgin girl you’re going to tear to shreds in the same bed where you normally fuck the most beautiful Omegas in the stronghold, but⁠—”

“She’s caught in the crossfire,” I counter. “Make no mistake, she’s the one tool we have against House Larsen, and I’m not going to spare her just because she’s innocent. But she’s not going to be the butt of the joke.”

“What about the fact that she kicked you out of Kuznetsov’s funeral?”

I swallow, wondering how the fuck I could have possibly forgotten about that. The girl deserves nothing from me.

“Well?”

“You’re right,” I concede. “Fuck her. Even harder.”

My brother laughs, and I squeeze my hand on his shoulder, helping him off the wall.

“The Larsens may not have reacted as defensively as we wanted,” he says as we resume walking. “But this is a slight they won’t forgive. I’ll speak to Martia. Double, maybe triple security. Everything else is already in place. All we need is a⁠—”

“General.” A voice calls from behind us. When I turn around, Lady Larsen is quickly stepping off the elevator. Alone. “A moment, please.”

As far as requests go, it sounds remarkably like a demand.

“You gonna tell her to fuck off?” Ivar asks under his breath.

“I should, shouldn’t I?” But I let out a deep sigh, then say, “You go ahead, Ivar. I’ll catch up.”

“I don’t trust her.”

“Neither do I, but she can do nothing to me.”

By the time Lady Larsen is in front of me, Ivar’s footsteps are fading in the distance. I take off my mask, making no secret of the way I’m assessing her. She is an older Omega, fragile-looking, with delicate features, an expressive face, and a spine made of steel. She reminds me just enough of my own mother for me to nearly experience sympathy—until she says, “You cannot do this, General.”

Here we fucking go. “Lady Larsen, you must know that I can, in fact, do this. The Right of the First Night falls within the law. General Niemi, who I believe was deep in your family’s pockets, regularly took advantage of it.” I ignore the way she recoils. “You certainly never complained when he took newly mated Omegas for his amusement.”

“I was a child. And, sir, with all due respect”—she speaks through gritted teeth, sounding anything but respectful—“Sofia and Lennart love each other.”

Sofia. Right. That’s the girl’s name. “In that case, I shall return her untouched.”

Her eyes shine with hope. “Really?”

“No.” I lean closer. “I will fuck her to within an inch of her life, and tomorrow she’ll barely be able to walk.”

What a pleasure, watching her face fall. “What do you have against my sons?”

“Your sons are hardly the victims here. Not when dozens of members of my army have fallen to an untimely demise because of your House’s strikes. Not when a young man was brutally assaulted to satisfy a noble-born man’s sadistic urges—and you know precisely what I am referring to. Not when it is not your son but the Omega who will lie under me tonight.” I hold her eyes. “Over and over again.”

“You have no right⁠—”

“Oh, but I do,” I drawl. “And you should be grateful that she is cold and likely won’t get pregnant from it.”

She spins on her feet before angrily stalking away in a way that would make me laugh, if it weren’t for the night that lies ahead of me.

“Lady Larsen,” I call after her. “A word of advice?”

She stops, but doesn’t turn to me.

“Hold your mate back,” I say. I don’t know what her relationship with Lord Larsen is like, but I’m no fool. Unlike what the noble-born have been telling themselves, Omegas are not glorified birthing machines without political power. “I want the attacks against my soldiers and my leadership to stop, and I want Lord Larsen to stop acting like he’s above the law. I am the general now, and things are changing. The Houses are going to have to give up a portion of their wealth and their constant abuse of power.”

“How dare you speak of abuse of power, with what you are about to do to Sofia?”

“My lady, we can both agree that the paltry body of a stunted Omega is worth much less than the many lives Lord Larsen has taken.”

She spins around to face me. “You are as repulsive as they say.”

“I live to meet your expectations, my lady.”

I put my lower-face mask back on and stalk to my quarters, already annoyed by the tearful Omega who surely awaits me.

Chapter 9

THE NIGHT Sofia

The bed in the general’s quarters must be worth more credits than my team of healers will earn in our combined lifetimes because it is made from wood. As I understand it, wood used to be a commonplace material. But the kind of trees that used to crowd the outside don’t thrive in salt water.