THE WILD CAT

Chapter 19

The air in the grand hall was thick enough to choke on. Usually, the mansion felt like a fortress, but tonight, it felt like a tomb.

At the head of the room, elevated on a velvet-draped stage, stood the triplets: Theo, Armani, and Lucas. They were a trinity of power, flanked by silent sentries whose fingers twitched near the triggers of their rifles. Below them, a sea of subordinates stood in suffocating silence.

“The Wild Cat Crew has faced an influx of threats,” Armani’s voice sliced through the room like a blade. “And we do not tolerate weakness.”

In the back of the hall, Riley leaned toward Skylar, her voice a jagged whisper. “Wait—this ‘crew’ is actually called the Wild Cats?”

“Keep your voice down,” Skylar hissed, her eyes darting nervously. “And yes. It’s an honor.”

Riley let out a sharp, mocking scoff. “An honor? It’s pathetic. It’s lame.”

“It’s my life!” Skylar whispered back, desperate.

“Well, it’s not mine. I can’t wait to get out of this hellhole,” Riley snapped.

The words were too loud. They hit the walls and echoed back, dragging the entire room into a deafening, terrifying silence. Riley froze as she realized the heavy weight of every eye in the room was now fixed on her. At the center of it all, Armani’s gaze was a predatory simmer.

“Who dares interrupt me?” The roar erupted from Armani’s chest, making Riley flinch violently. He stepped off the stage, his boots clicking against the marble with the rhythm of a funeral march. Lucas and Theo followed like shadows of death.

Skylar hit the floor instantly, her forehead pressed to the cold stone. “I am so sorry, Master Armani! Please!”

Armani didn’t even look at Skylar. His eyes were locked on Riley, dark and bottomless. Riley felt her throat tighten; she tried to speak, but the air had vanished. “I... I’m sorry for talking,” she managed to stammer.

Skylar grabbed Riley’s arm, desperately pulling her down into a bow. “Please, forgive us!” Skylar pleaded, her voice trembling. “She’s new! She doesn't understand!”

“Thirty lashes,” Armani stated. His voice was flat, devoid of mercy. “For both.”

“Are you kidding me?” Riley blurted out, her shock overriding her fear.

The room gasped. Armani’s face contorted into a mask of pure malice. He leaned down, not toward Riley, but toward Skylar. With a lightning-fast movement, his hand shot out, catching Skylar by the throat and lifting her off the ground as if she weighed nothing.

Skylar didn't fight. she hung there, her face turning a bruised purple, her lungs begging for oxygen. Riley looked around the room, horrified, but the crowd remained motionless—chilled, indifferent, used to the cruelty.

“That’s enough, Armani,” Theo said, stepping forward and placing a firm hand on his brother’s wrist.

Armani let out a guttural growl before releasing his grip. Skylar crumpled to the floor, gasping and clutching her throat. Riley scrambled to her side. “Are you okay? Skylar!”

“Anthonio!” Armani bellowed.

The head guard stepped forward instantly. “Yes, Boss?”

“Take these low-lives to the cells. Ensure they receive every single stroke.” Without a backward glance, Armani stormed out. Riley watched him go, her heart shattering. She had thought—after the night they spent together—that there was a spark of humanity in him. She was wrong. To him, she wasn't a woman; she was a nuisance.

As the guards dragged the girls away, the tension in the hall broke into cruel whispers.

“What a show,” Ava remarked, a wicked smirk playing on her lips. Beside her, Lila and Lola giggled like schoolgirls at a play. “The newbie is certainly making things interesting.”

Quinn shot her a look of pure ice. “Shut up, Ava.”

“Make me,” Ava spat back, but Quinn turned away, her heart sinking for what Riley was about to endure.

In the damp darkness of the whipping room, the air was filled with the rhythmic crack of leather against skin. Riley didn't scream for herself; she sobbed apologies to Skylar with every strike that landed on their backs.

The door kicked open, slamming against the stone wall.

“Enough!” Lucas stood in the doorway, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles were white. “Release them. Now.”

“But Boss, Armani said—” Anthonio began.

Lucas’s eyes flashed with a lethal promise. “I don't care what he said. Release them, or I’ll use that whip on you.”

The chains clattered to the floor. Riley’s legs gave out, her body a map of pain. Before she could hit the ground, Lucas was there. He gathered her into his arms, his face softening into a scowl of regret as he looked at her shredded clothes.

“Dammit, Riley,” he muttered, lifting her against his chest. “What have you gotten yourself into?”

Lucas didn't head toward the infirmary or the servants' quarters. Instead, he kicked open the double oak doors to his private wing. The room was dim, lit only by the amber glow of the fireplace, smelling of expensive bourbon and cedarwood.

He laid Riley facedown on his oversized bed with a gentleness that contradicted his rugged exterior. She let out a jagged moan of pain, her fingers clutching the silk sheets as her back burned with the fire of the lashes.

"Stay still," Lucas commanded, his voice a low rasp.

He moved to a cabinet, pulling out a first-aid kit and a bottle of high-end whiskey. When he sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipped under his weight. He began to carefully cut the remains of her shirt away to reveal the damage. He hissed through his teeth, his jaw tightening so hard it looked like it might snap.

"Why do you have to be so loud-mouthed?" he muttered, though his hands were incredibly steady as he cleaned her wounds. "You almost got yourself killed today."

Riley turned her head slightly, her cheek pressed against the pillow. Her eyes were glassy with tears. "He... he was going to kill Skylar. He's a monster, Lucas."

Lucas paused, a cotton swab soaked in antiseptic hovering over a deep cut. "He’s a Wild Cat. We all are. You're in a world where silence is survival, Riley. Why can't you just learn to play the part?"

"Because I'm not a pet!" Riley snapped, though the effort caused a fresh wave of pain to ripple through her. She winced, her body trembling.

Lucas didn't argue. He worked in silence for a long time, the only sound the crackling of the fire. When he finished bandaging her, he didn't leave. He poured a glass of whiskey, downed it in one go, and leaned back against the headboard, watching her.

"You can't stay in the servant quarters tonight," Lucas said, his gaze lingering on the door as if expecting Armani to burst through at any moment. "You stay here. In my bed. No one—not even my brothers—enters this room without my permission."

Riley looked at him, confused by the sudden protection. "Why are you helping me? Armani hates me."

Lucas reached out, his thumb grazing the side of her jaw, his expression unreadable. "Maybe I’m tired of watching him break things that are worth keeping."

Riley stared at the steaming bowl of noodles, the scent momentarily distracting her from the rhythmic throbbing in her back. As she looked at Lucas—the brother who had always seemed like the silent observer compared to Armani’s volatile rage—a cold, calculated thought began to take root in her mind.

She had been a fool to think a single night with Armani meant she was safe. s*x wasn't a key to his heart; it was just a transaction he had already forgotten. If she wanted to survive this den of "Wild Cats" and actually walk out of those iron gates alive, she couldn't just survive the brothers.

She had to own them. All three of them.

“You made this?” Riley asked, her voice raspy. She tried to push herself up, but a sharp wince caught in her throat.

Lucas quickly reached out, his hand steadying her shoulder. “Careful. And no... I had a servant whip it up. I’m better with a gun than a stove.” He scratched the back of his head, looking almost uncomfortable with the sudden intimacy of the moment.

Riley managed a small, weary smile, her eyes searching his. “I didn’t expect you to actually... care. Not after what your brother did.”

Lucas set the bowl on the nightstand and sat on the edge of the mattress. The shadows of the room played across his sharp features. “Armani is a storm. He destroys everything in his path when he’s angry. But I’m not Armani.”

“No,” Riley whispered, reaching out with a trembling hand to touch the sleeve of his shirt. “You’re the one who saved me.”

She watched his pulse jump in his neck. She could feel the shift in the air—the way his protective instinct was warring with his loyalty to his brothers. If she could make Lucas her shield, she could survive Armani’s fire. And if she could get Theo on her side... she might just have a chance at freedom.

“Eat,” Lucas said, his voice dropping an octave. He picked up the chopsticks and blew on a small portion of noodles before holding them out to her. “You need your strength if you’re going to survive this house.”

Riley leaned forward, keeping her gaze locked on his as she took the food. She was playing a dangerous game, weaving herself between three lethal men, but as the warmth of the food hit her stomach, her resolve hardened.

One brother down, she thought. Two to go.

The fire crackled in the hearth, but the tension between Riley and Lucas was warmer. Riley leaned back against the plush pillows, her eyes searching Lucas’s face as he sat beside her.

"Why keep me here, Lucas?" she whispered, her voice laced with a calculated vulnerability. "I'm nobody. It’s not like I’d go to the police. I just want to go home. Why didn't you guys just let me run?"

Lucas set the bowl down, a small, dark smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You're the one who stumbled into our world, Riley. If you hadn't been eavesdropping the night we were... handling that business, we never would have noticed you."

"I was in the wrong place at the wrong time," she murmured, looking down at her bandaged hands.

"Maybe," Lucas said, his voice dropping to a low, gravelly hum. He reached out, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered there, warm against her skin. "But honestly? I'm happy you did. I wouldn't have wanted to miss out on someone as beautiful as you."

Riley felt a genuine flush creep up her neck. She hadn't expected the bluntness of his compliment. She looked up at him through her lashes, letting a small, shy smile play on her lips. She leaned forward, closing the gap, and Lucas didn't pull away.

When their lips finally met, the kiss was hesitant—a soft, tasting friction. But as the adrenaline of the day and the heat of the room took over, the kiss deepened, turning hungry and rough. Lucas’s hand moved to the back of her neck, pulling her closer, his thumb stroking her jawline.

The heavy oak door swung open with such force it hit the stone wall with a crack like a gunshot. A sudden, icy breeze swept into the room, instantly killing the warmth.

Riley and Lucas snapped apart, breathless.

Standing in the doorway, framed by the dark hallway, was Armani. He didn't move. He stood perfectly still, his silhouette imposing and lethal. His eyes, cold as a winter grave, moved from Lucas’s flushed face to Riley’s swollen lips.

The silence that followed was deafening. Armani’s jaw was set so tight it looked like marble.