His Mafia Prince
Chapter 112: Some Omega Solidarity, Perhaps?

Chapter 112: Some Omega Solidarity, Perhaps?

(ARLO)

"No. I’d rather you gave in."

"I’m not a threat to you, Miles." I sigh impatiently. "You’re more of a threat to me than I am to you because you are going to tell Sasha of all the plans I have. I just want to get home now. That’s all. I won’t hurt Sasha until I have new plans in place. Your boss is safe from me. For now."

"Is that what you think?"

I open my mouth to say something but he curses in Italian and his eyes flick to something behind me. Suddenly, he grabs me by my shoulder and pulls me to the side of the phone booth. His big body shields me as he peeks around the booth.

"I just saw Dalton and one of his men pull into the station. Shit." He whispers. "We have to get back to the bike first and make a run down the hill. We don’t have time to make the calls anymore."

"But the phone is just there." I huff impatiently.

He grabs my arm. "Yeah. And so is Dalton. Let’s go around back the building. They will notice we were here as soon as they see that unconscious guy."

I’m not happy about how he drags me. Either way, I let him do it. I was mere seconds away from making the call. I don’t want to get back down the mountain on a goose chase again, but I know that I have no choice. We need to either run or hide if it is true that my crazy cousin and his men are here. Standing in the booth will only expose us more.

We circle the building and Miles lets me walk slightly past him. I think I’m safe and have no need to worry until he grabs me in a chokehold. I gasp and claw at his massive arms as he squeezes my windpipe. I sputter, unable to make any actual sounds considering his tough grip on my throat.

He puts his mouth inches away from my war and whispers, "I’m really sorry about this, kid, but I got to make my call first. I can’t risk letting you do something that might get my boss injured.

I throw my legs aimlessly as I scratch his arm. Even then, he doesn’t budge. Spots begin to appear on the side of my vision and I try to gouge out his eyes, but he is too quick. I can’t head-butt him either.

What the fuck made me think it was a good idea to trust him?

He runs his hand over my backside and I feel his warm breath against my neck. He looks at me for a few generous seconds before tugging my wallet out of my pocket. "Relax, kid. I’ll just make one call then you will have your wallet back. You will be fine back here in the building. Toodle-oo, Arlo.

I want to rip his fucking face off. I want to punch his face bloody for lying to me like this. Is he just going to leave me this vulnerable? Or unconscious? My hate for Miles spikes exponentially as I begin to black out. I hear nothing except the sound of blood rushing to my ears, and the tension of his arms around my throat as my eyes roll up at the back of my head.

Darkness begins to descend and I feel his lips press on the bite mark as I sink into oblivion.

I wake up swinging. Or I try. My arms are bound behind my back and I’m lying on a big bed. Seeing that my struggle is futile and my chances of escaping this trap are unlikely, I stop. I take in my surroundings. I’m in a dark, cool room. It reeks of Miles cologne. I’m completely confused about where I am.

The last thing I remember is that fucker Miles choking me out. He said he would leave me with my wallet, and that I would be safe from my lunatic cousin at the back of the station. How again did I end up here? Why am I hogtied in a place that seems to be his bedroom?

When I realize that somebody is in the room with me, my pulse goes haywire. It’s not Miles. I would know if it was him.

"Why am I here?" I yell, eyeing the dark silhouette sitting across the room.

They stand and approach me without speaking. Soon, I notice that it is an omega about my age with long curly hair and a small baby bump. I don’t know who he is, but he doesn’t look as threatening.

He stops beside the bed and then looks at me. "Miles really went in this time, didn’t he?" he murmurs.

"Why the hell am I here?" I narrow my gaze.

"Because my husband wants to kill you." He says. "But for whatever reason, Miles doesn’t want him to kill you. I told him to keep you alive for a little longer while we figure stuff out. Lucky for you, Sasha listens to me sometimes."

The way the omega talked flippantly about my death makes chills course through me. Then again, if he is Sasha’s husband, that definitely means he is surrounded by death.

"Miles wants me to live?" I ask comically. It is almost unreal that he is the thing that would stand between me and Sasha murdering me in cold blood.

"Yes." He watches me closely. I get the idea that he might be confused as to why Miles wants me alive, or even why he would care about me being alive or dead. "is that a bite mark on your throat?" he asks, inching closer to me. "Is that why Miles is protecting you? Is it his?"

"Why would I know why Miles does anything?" My face warms.

He laughs. "Miles is a tough nut to crack. Besides, it’s not really my business if the bite is his. But it’s strange...because...Miles isn’t the type to settle down."

"Neither am I."

"Aaah," he murmurs, smirking. "so, a match made in heaven?"

"Look, how about you let me go and I’ll be out of your hair?" I know that him releasing me is a long shot, and that he is probably not going to do it. All I can do is try. "Show some omega solidarity."

He laughs gruffly. "I’m not one to go for that stuff. I like and respect others based on who they are. Not what they are. Some of the biggest assholes that I’ve ever crossed paths with are omegas.

My arms are beginning to feel numb behind my back. I shift, wincing. "You could at least untie me, right?"

He shakes his head. I don’t think so.

I shove upwards and manage to sit. He takes a cautious step backwards. I lower my legs to the ground and he inches at the door. The way he is scared makes me laugh. "Easy there. I’m not going to attack you. My arms are just falling asleep and I need to change positions."

He cups his little rounded belly distractedly. "Maybe I could ask Sasha to untie your arms. You should probably eat anyway, you aren’t going to do that with your hands tied."

I narrow my eyes. "Why bother feeding me if you’re just going to kill me anyway?"

He shrugs. "Politeness?"

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