Knotted By The Devilish Alpha Brothers

Chapter 17: Chapter 17: New conditions

Amelia stood frozen in place as the men settled themselves around the room like they owned every inch of it—which, she supposed, they did. Enzo carried a thin file under one arm. He glanced at her with those flat grey eyes.

”Sit.”

”I’m fine standing.”

Dean dropped onto the bed without ceremony, stretching out like he owned it—long limbs sprawling across the plush duvet, his silver-black hair fanning out against the pillows.

Reid shot him a look from where he had already claimed a chair, sitting the wrong way around so his chest pressed against the backrest, his arms folded over the top. His chin rested on his forearms, and his eyes tracked Dean with something between annoyance and amusement.

”Don’t rumple my bedsheets.”

Amelia drew in a slow breath, forcing her feet to carry her a few steps closer to the bed. The distance between them felt like a chasm, but she crossed it anyway.

Every ounce of bravery I still possess is going into this next moment. I have to ask. I have to know. Even if I don’t like the answer.

”Can I speak?”

Enzo’s grey eyes flicked up from the file he was opening. ”Go ahead.”

Amelia’s hands clenched at her sides, her fingers curling into the soft fabric of her gown. The words came out steadier than she felt, though her voice trembled at the edges like a plucked string.

”I already accept my fate. I brought myself into this situation. I know that. I know I made choices that led me here, and I’m not going to pretend otherwise.” She paused, swallowing hard. ”But I don’t understand what’s going on. I don’t understand any of it—what you really want, why I’m still alive when I should be dead. If you have any bit of mercy... what can I do to break ties with you? No matter how long it takes. No matter what it costs. Just tell me there’s a way out.”

Reid’s charming smile appeared, like she’d said something amusing rather than desperate.

”Death.”

The single word extinguished whatever fragile hope had begun to rise in her chest. Amelia felt it collapse inside her, a small death all its own.

Reid continued. ”You chose not to die. That was your decision. You could have let the poison take you. You could have faded out, gone quietly, ended everything right there on that bed. But you didn’t. You clawed your way back. And now you’re here, alive, walking around like a person with choices.” His smile sharpened. ”But you don’t have choices, Amelia. You made yours the moment you took that cure. So you’re stuck with us until we’re the ones who are dead.”

That sounds like hell on earth. Eternal servitude with no end in sight, no light at the end of the tunnel, no promise of anything but more of the same.

Amelia’s vision blurred at the edges, and she blinked rapidly to clear it.

Enzo spoke next.

”There is an exception.”

Amelia’s head snapped toward him, her eyes locking onto his face as if it were a lifeline thrown into stormy waters. Her heart hammered against her ribs, loud and frantic.

An exception. A way out. A chance.

He held the file out, extending it toward her with steady hands. She stepped forward, took it carefully, then retreated several paces to put distance between them again. Her hands trembled only slightly as she opened it and pulled out the papers inside.

”We made changes to the contract you signed,” Enzo said, his voice matter-of-fact. ”You will stop being our mistress when certain conditions are fulfilled. The first is that you will play the role of a wife for a while—until the second condition is met. The second is that you gather critical information about the Underworld Territory. Something invaluable. Something that benefits us. A piece of intelligence so significant that it changes the balance of power.”

Amelia processed the words slowly, reading the same lines on the page as if they might rearrange themselves into something kinder. Her eyes scanned the text, searching for loopholes, for hidden meanings, for anything that might give her an advantage.

Underworld Territory. I have never heard of that place.

”Does that mean...” Her voice came out hesitant, fragile, like glass about to shatter. ”If I’m able to fulfill these conditions in six months, I’ll be free? No more contracts, no more obligations, no more being your—your property?”

Reid’s voice teased. ”Exactly. But do you really think you can fulfill the second condition in six months when we’ve been trying for three years?” He tilted his head, studying her like a curious scientist examining a particularly interesting specimen. ”Three years, Amelia. Three years of resources, connections, manpower. And we’ve come up with nothing. Absolutely nothing. And you think you can do it in six months?”

He’s right. He’s completely right. It’s impossible. It’s designed to be impossible. They’re not giving me a way out—they’re giving me a way to fail.

The hope that had flickered for a brief second died again, smothered by the weight of reality. Both conditions were impossible. It was a cruel joke dressed as an offer, a glimmer of light that turned out to be a trap.

Enzo closed the conversation with quiet finality, his grey eyes meeting hers with that steady, unwavering gaze.

”You don’t need to make a decision now. We’re giving you twenty-four hours. Think about it. Consider your options. Weigh the risks and the rewards.” He gestured toward the door. ”The maid outside will take you back to your room. Get some rest. You’ll need your strength.”

Amelia left without another word, the file clutched tightly against her chest like a shield. She walked with the maid in the hallway, until she reached the door of her own room.

The moment the door closed behind her, the weight of the papers felt heavier than before. She sank onto the edge of the bed, her legs unable to support her any longer, and stared at nothing—the wall, the window, the empty space that seemed to stretch on forever.

My life is over. When the time runs out, it will be death. Staying with them longer will still be a slower kind of death. There’s no way out. There’s no escape. There’s nothing but this.

She looked down at the file in her hands, the pages blurring before her eyes.

What difference does it make? Six months, six years, six decades—it’s all the same. I’ll always be theirs. I’ll always be trapped.

A sharp, rhythmic tapping cut through her thoughts. Tock... tock... tock. The same sound of a beak striking glass.

Amelia lifted her head.

Outside the tall window, perched on the ledge as if it belonged there, was a strange silver bird.