Goodbye, My Mate

Chapter 229

Finn's POV

The car growled low as it carved through the night, the city's edge bleeding into a haze of filth and neon. I slouched in the back seat, one arm slung over the leather, staring out the window as the slave market loomed closer. Its lights pulsed like a fevered heartbeat, red and sickly, casting shadows that writhed over the cracked pavement.

We rolled up to the fighting ring, a piss-poor setup of ropes and stakes stabbed into the dirt, spotlights glaring down on the carnage. Two werewolves tore into each other, fur matted with gore, claws slashing through flesh like it was nothing. One - a scrawny bastard with desperation in his eyes - took a hit that split his muzzle wide open, blood spraying the crowd. They roared, a mix of wolves and humans drunk on violence, fists pumping the air, bets flying like spit. The taller one, a hulking brute with shoulders like a fucking ox, smashed his fist into the weaker wolf's skull. Bone crunched, loud enough I heard it over the engine's hum, and that guy dropped, twitching in a pool of his own mess. Handlers dragged him off, leaving a red smear behind.

The tall slave threw his head back, chest heaving, blood dripping from his knuckles and streaking his face. "Who else is coming?!" he bellowed, voice raw and ragged, spitting fury into the night. The crowd ate it up, screaming louder, but I just stared, something twisting in my gut. That rage, that wild, untamed edge - it hit me like a fist, dragging Lycidas' shadow across my mind. Same fire, same hunger. I shifted in my seat, the leather creaking under me, and tapped the driver's shoulder. "Stop the fucking car."

The brakes bit hard, and I shoved the door open, boots hitting gravel with a crunch. The soldiers snapped to attention, saluting like I was some king instead of a scarred-up mutt playing at power. The slaves around the ring flinched and dropped, knees kissing dirt, heads bowed low - except for him. That tall bastard stood there, blood-slick and defiant, staring me down like I was nothing. My pulse kicked up, not from fear, but from the thrill of it, the challenge glinting in his eyes.

I strode over, the crowd parting like water, my soldiers trailing me like dogs. "You're the winner of this shitshow," I said, voice cutting through the noise, sharp and cold. "Whatever you want - freedom, coin, some bitch to warm your bed - I can make it happen." I let the words hang, testing him, waiting for him to bend.

He didn't. Just kept those eyes locked on mine, silent as death, blood crusting on his lips.

One of the soldiers snarled, stepping forward. "Alpha Finn's talking to you, mutt! Answer him!" The slave didn't budge, and that pissed them off more - three of them lunged, slamming him down, his face grinding into the dirt. He growled, low and feral, but they had him pinned, arms twisted back.

I crouched beside him, grabbed a fistful of his matted hair, and yanked his head up. His breath rasped, hot and heavy, and I leaned in close. "Speak," I snapped. "What do you want? Name it, and it's yours. I'm a man of my word."

A grin split his face, slow and wicked, teeth stained red. "I don't want freedom, money, or women," he rasped, voice like gravel. "I want you. I want to fuck you."

The words hit like a slap, bold and filthy, and for a second, I froze. Then I let go, his head dropping back to the dirt, and stood up fast. Didn't say a damn thing - just turned and walked back to the car, my soldiers swarming him, fists and boots flying as they dragged him off. I slid into the seat, slammed the door, and stared out the window as we peeled away, his grin burned into my skull.

-

Night swallowed everything by the time I sprawled out on my sofa, cigarette glowing between my fingers, smoke curling up to the ceiling. I was half-naked, bathrobe slung open, the cool air brushing over the tattoos and scars carved into my skin - slave market souvenirs I'd carry to my grave.

A holographic projection flickered in front of me, Lycidas moving across the screen, all grace and menace, his eyes boring into me even through the film. I took a drag, then a swig of wine, the taste sharp on my tongue but doing fuck-all to quiet the noise in my head.

"This is pathetic," Sak's voice sneered inside my skull, cold and cutting. "Can't live without that Lycan prince, can you? Celebrating your birthday by mastubating over his movie?"

"Well, apparently, I'm celebrating my birthday by mastubating while talking to you, brother." I grabbed another pack of Kleenex.

"You make me sick. By the way, why did you go over to his place the other day? Do you really want to celebrate his birthday with him?"

"I went there to set up some surveillance cameras, but unfortunately he was there," I shrugged while wiping the fluid on my thighs.

"You're impossible." Sak snarled. "It seems that you just can't get enough of him."

I exhaled smoke, watching it twist in the dim light. "Let's just not blow this out of proportion, Okay? Just a movie fan of His Highness. You can't blame me, Sak. He's damn good-looking and his last movie made us three billion dollars. That's like... a lot of money." I thought back, keeping it light, playful.

"Like you give a shit about money," Sak pressed, relentless. "He treats you like a fuck toy. You good with that? Letting him fuck you over like this?"

"I've got a plan, brother," I shot back, voice firm in my mind. "It's all going how I want it. Stop worrying. You know you're the only one that I love."

He went silent, but I knew he was rolling his eyes so hard that he could see the back of my head.

The door creaked open mid-thought, and the tall slave stumbled in, shoved by the guards. They'd cleaned him up - blood gone, wounds patched, just a bathrobe hanging loose over his frame, chest bare and marked with the faint brand of the market. He looked taller now, sharper, all rough edges and wild charm, like a beast barely leashed. His eyes raked over me, hungry, predatory, locking onto my sprawled-out body.

I smirked, taking a slow drag. "Like what you see?"

He swallowed hard, throat bobbing, and nodded once, slow and deliberate.

I spread my legs, letting the robe fall wider. "Then come fuck me."

He didn't hesitate - pounced like a starved animal, tearing the robe off me, pinning me down with hands that bruised. His mouth crashed into mine, all teeth and heat, and I bit back, tasting blood as he shoved himself between my thighs. It was fast, brutal - his cock driving into me, raw and relentless, my nails clawing down his back as I arched up to meet him. Sweat slicked us together, the room filling with grunts and the wet slap of skin, a rhythm as primal as the fights I'd watched earlier. I lost myself in it, head thrown back, gasping as he fucked me into the cushions.

The phone buzzed, sharp and insistent, cutting through the haze. I glanced over - Lycidas' name flashing - and reached for it, one hand still gripping the slave's shoulder.

"Don't stop," I growled at him, then hit answer, voice ragged. "Yeah?"

"Where the fuck are you and why didn't you pick up my call?" Lycidas' voice crackled through, tight with something like panic.

I groaned as the slave thrust harder. "I'm at the slave market, Your Highness."

"What the fuck are you doing?" he snapped, louder now.

"I'm... busy," I panted, a moan slipping out as the slave's pace turned savage.

"Stay the fuck right there," he barked, then the line went dead.

I chucked the phone aside, hands digging into the slave's hips, pulling him deeper. Lycidas could wait. The night was mine, and I wasn't done yet.