ZANE'S POV
I drop the unconscious omega onto the basement floor like a sack of grain, watching her head loll to the side. Her red hair spills across the concrete, and there's a thin line of blood on her throat where Angus held the knife.
Perfect.
"Careful with her," Ravenna says from the doorway, descending the stairs with that hypnotic sway of her hips. "We need her intact for the ritual."
"She's fine." I grab a metal chair from the corner and haul Sonya into it, zip-tying her wrists with practiced efficiency. "Just a little roughed up. Adds to the ambiance."
Ravenna laughs, that dark, throaty sound that first drew me to her five years ago in a shithole bar out in the outlands, both of us nursing wounds from the Savage family.
We bonded over hatred and whiskey, then over something
