Lucien was a clumsy guy in his normal life. His girlfriend often said he could be so oblivious to details, so careless with the world around him, that the only thing saving grace was his handsome face—his one shield against exasperation, the reason she always forgave him in the end.
But clumsy didn't mean foolish.
Lucien Hale, for all his stumbles, was sharp enough to see the trap when it finally snapped shut around him. His coworkers had insisted he come tonight, pressing until refusal seemed impossible, and now he understood why. They hadn't dragged him along for company or good times. They had dragged him here to bleed. A deal had been made in the dark, and he had walked right into it. He despised them—and himself—for letting it happen so cleanly.
Mark and Liam broke. Sobbed. Begged. Their voices cracked with desperation, names spilling like lifelines. "Lucien—please! You have the money. Please—help us pay! We promise to pay you back!"
'We...huh?'
The plea hit harder than any gunshot. Shock split him open, raw and ugly. Betrayal seared through his chest, hotter than fear. His brows shot up, eyes blazing with fury. "You lied to me," he rasped, voice trembling, cracking at the edges. "Is this why you brought me here?"
The weight of it dragged like chains. His friends—if he could even call them that—had shackled him to their sins.
"We didn't know these people would be here, Lucien. Please—you have to help us. We're friends." Liam's voice cracked, ragged and pitiful, as he tried to crawl closer. A guard shoved him back with the barrel of a gun pressed to his temple, and he froze, trembling.
Some friends they were!
"Please, Lucien. I'll pay it back—every penny, I swear. Please." Mark's words came out in a broken rush, his whole body shaking. "I don't want to die. Help us!"
Lucien's jaw clenched so tight it hurt. His nails dug deep crescents into his palms, the pressure the only thing keeping him from exploding. But under the betrayal, cold logic coiled sharp. In that silence between gunshots, Lucien Hale realized something brutal.
They were going to die here. Every single one of them, unless something shifted.
But....
"What about the jackpot they won?" Lucien demanded.
The woman only arched a brow, lips curling into a smirk that said everything without words: what about it?
Lucien's jaw tightened, his mouth pressing into a thin, bitter line. Of course. Nothing but bait — a neat little trap to herd them all into one place.
Nikolai's gaze slid to Lucien and the trap tightened into a hard, ugly certainty. It was so obvious—so stupid—and yet...
'Are you going to fall for it?'
Nikolai watched the other man's fingers sink into his palm, watched the white crescents bloom there, and felt something low and hungry stir behind his ribs. The sight made his mouth go dry in a way that had nothing to do with fear; it was a craving for damage, for the red proof of contact — how those same fingers would mark skin pressed against his back, leave beautiful, angry prints that would prove Lucien had been close enough to hurt him, to hold him.
He wasn't the only one watching. The woman's attention flicked between them like a searching blade, and then she clapped once, neat and bored. "Alright. That's enough theatrics. Shoot them."
Mark and Liam's sobs spiked into frantic, animal cries. "Lucien! Please! Lucien!!"
Lucien sucked in a breath, chest lifting, jaw clenched until it ached. His grey eyes cut to the woman, voice low but steady, even as it shook at the edges. "Stop. Just—stop." His lips twisted, disgust and resolve mixing in the expression. "I'll pay for them!"
His shoulders slumped, the fight bleeding into cold, hard resignation. "They're scum, but they're my friends." The word friend made him recoil in disgust.
'Not after tonight...' He glared in their direction before looking back at the woman.
His voice grew quieter, steel-hard. "So let us go. I'll cover their fucking debts."
Even on his knees, head still ringing from the gunshot, Lucien forced himself to look up—chin lifted, glare leveled right at the woman. "But kill them, and the deal's off. You want your money? You get it from me. Alive."
Despite the tension, he had a feeling this was what Mark and Liam were hoping. They knew him well enough to know he would take this on. And God… that really pissed him off. But he also couldn't have their blood on his hands.
And despite everything—heart hammering, sweat dampening his collar—the stubborn, scornful grey irises glided from the chamber of the pistol to the location of the unfortunate victim that had to babysit their so-called "friends."
The woman also seemed to just stare for a few more seconds before an amused expression appeared on her face, her plump glossed cherry lips pressed together, showing a beautifully dangerous thin smile.
"You seem like a hard-working man…Lucien Hale."
Lucien let out a bitter chuckle. Of course she knew his name. Must be because these bastards had promised this woman that they were getting the perfect sacrifice for the debt to pay. Just fantastic.
Lucien's knuckles popped as he rubbed at his raw wrists, exhaling through his nose like a bull about to gore. His pale eyes were narrowed, his frame taut with fury, but the words that slipped past his lips carried that sharp, almost mocking bite he always fell back on when cornered.
"Can't say the same about you," he shot at the woman, tone laced with dry venom. Inwardly though, he was cursing himself six ways to hell. He hadn't even asked the damn amount before opening his mouth. Brilliant. Fucking brilliant.
Chestnut locks bounced with every step that paced around the room, the gun now slack in her hands that rested behind her back. No longer giving attention to the group, her gaze and expression now wore a bored, uninterested look, as if she was hoping to place more bullets into someone's head. Lifting a free hand towards her face, she examined the perfectly trimmed and manicured nails. Her nonchalant demeanor despite the looming threat of death was all that was needed to show the room that this situation was, in fact, an average day for the woman.
"Twenty-six years young, a gym teacher, and a popular model to boot. You've built quite a nice setup in terms of income. Not to mention…" The woman gave a quick glance at both Lucien and Nikolai, a sultry gleam in her eyes, "...an Alpha dynamic to top it off. How unfortunate that you had to associate yourself with these… asinine individuals. But I suppose without you, they'd be six feet under by now."
"Wow. Is this all legal?" he spat, chest heaving. "How the fuck did you even get this information?" His tone was cold, shaking at the edges, but the hatred burning in his expression was steady.
In the midst of their conversation, Nikolai had been quietly sending non-verbal commands and communications to the surrounding members, sterling gray irises strategically glancing around while he used the fact that his hands were bound behind him; the use of military and sign language aiding his discrete signals. He'd have to award his team for such a grand performance, the suave yet ominous atmosphere was fueling the rising sensation of bloodlust within him.
Of course they could have done this the boring way but Nikolai didn't do boring.
Everyone was forced to stand. A gesture from the woman and masked men moved to untie their hand. But even with their hands now free, the aimed guns were still prevalent, each soldier alert for any sudden movements of escape or retaliation.
When the rope was cut from his wrists, Lucien nearly swung at the guy who'd done it, stopping himself only by grinding his teeth so hard he tasted iron.
'So fierce like a kitten,' Nikolai barely held the shiver in.
It was then that contracts were distributed amongst everyone with their respective debt amount and previous agreements and obligations that were originally placed.
"I will have all of you sign a new contract of our agreement for Mr. Hale… to take over the debt of these individuals. The deadline can be discussed between the boss of the organization. True to our word, we will let these vermin go per the request of this deal."
A nod of the woman signaled the gunned unit to then place the sacks over Mark and Liam as soon as they finished signing their names and thumb printed consent. The two men were then escorted back the same way they entered, towards the main floor of the casino establishment.
With only Lucien and Nikolai with a few other stragglers of different debts in the room, the woman clapped her hands once with much enthusiasm, a plastered Barbie signature smile etched on her face.
"Now all that's left is for you to sign your part, Mr. Hale." A clipboard, pen, and inkpad for his thumb was held in front of the man.
"How fucking gracious of you, miss—whatever the fuck your name is." He snatched the papers, skimming only enough to catch the gut-punch of numbers at the bottom.