Two years after the fight between the Salvatore families.

Lorenzo and Darius had let Zane go outside for the first time since the Second Family's downfall. It was not far. It was not where he would've chosen to go if given the choice. It was in the background of the First Family's compound where the bodyguards looked on, some with pity when they saw the chains on his ankles, some with cautionary eyes, and some with a pompous sneer on their lips. And he ignored them like he ignored plenty of things. They did not matter; he was outside, breathing in a false taste of freedom. The only thing that mattered.

He had smiled when the afternoon sun kissed his face, big and bright with teeth. And then he looked over his shoulder and smiled again. This time at Lorenzo and Darius. Back then, he could have sworn their breaths were caught in their throats by the way their bodies tensed up and their eyes dilated. Then again, he might have imagined it all.

That was one year.

After they let him out of the backyard, they started fucking regularly—the three of them. Zane enjoyed it as he enjoyed it the first time; he relished it. Sometimes he believed they were not fucking; instead, they were making intimate, passionate, lovemaking, by the way the two alphas would caress him: so tender, so desirous—like a priceless jewel. They painted his body with their mouths, coloring him from head to toe. In a sense, they were worshipping him like a god while he wallowed it all up every time, always hungry for the praise and touches.

One time, after their lovemaking, Darius gave him a massage while he lay naked on his stomach. It was a rainy day, and he had his eyes on a shirtless Lorenzo who stood by the sliding doors, staring outside with a cigarette in one hand while the other was stuffed into his pajama pocket.

Their lives felt so domesticated, so wholesome, and blissful. But then he glanced down at his chained ankle, and then he touched his unmarked neck, and all his thoughts about the three of them disappeared. Was he truly a mere plaything? Was he a sort of war prize for them to feed their own egos? Zane just did not know what to think or what to make out of the situation. So he did not think. Instead, he pressed his face against the pillow and inhaled, hoping to stifle himself. When his lungs had started burning, though, and his traitorous body screamed for air, he moved his face away and pretended it never happened while Darius moved to rub under his feet next.

That was ten months.

Soon, Valentine's Day arrived.

Like most days, the day had begun very pleasantly.

Lorenzo had woken up Zane and Darius from slumber, greeting them both with a feverish kiss, two separate bouquets of several dozen red roses, and a "Happy Valentine's Day, darlings" to start their morning. The gesture was so simple, so sweet; Zane had smiled with pure happiness before he could stop himself. Then Lorenzo dug his hand into his pocket and gave them both jewelry boxes. Each had an identical golden ring, almost like a simple wedding band. It reminded Zane of the one he lost, the one sitting on Darius's finger. Still, although his face had fallen, he allowed Lorenzo to put it on his left ring finger without resistance.

Darius had given them gifts too.

Zane had watched him with curious eyes while he walked over to the walk-in closet. When Darius returned, his hands were filled with gift bags before he shoved them into Lorenzo's lap and kissed him, giving him a little peck on the lips. When Darius did not do the same for him, Zane's insides grew cold, and he readied himself to get up, only to be dragged down by Darius, who gave him one of the two gift bags that instantly warmed his insides back up.

Darius had also given them both identical gifts: heart-shaped boxes—the red velvet kind—filled with chocolates and green Hawaiian-style shirts that gave Zane an eye sore. Darius had even gotten one for himself, and he appeared excited when Lorenzo offered to take him to Phuket for the weekend so they could wear their shirts together.

It was then that Zane realized he had no use for the gift. They still kept him trapped inside, in chains, while they set off to do whatever they pleased. He was still their prisoner. He had never left the compound since his family's downfall. Still, he blinked back the tears and faked a tight smile.

Zane had thought that would be the end of their day.

It was not.

The afternoon came—that dreadful afternoon.

Lorenzo and Darius had just stepped out of the shower with their towels tied around their waists while he sat on a chair next to the window, engrossed in a novel Lorenzo had given him some time ago, A Farewell to Arms. He had paid them no mind; they were getting ready for bed, he had concluded. However, that was not the case. Instead of stepping into their pajama pants, they went to the closet and emerged in suits and ties. Lorenzo's classical blue and Darius's green.

It was then that Zane felt a knot in his throat, and no matter how many times he swallowed, it remained like an irritating scratch.

He raked his mind for answers. Where were they going? Why were they leaving? And his thoughts replied, isn't it obvious? They are going for dinner on Valentine's Day. They are husbands and bonded pairs—soulmates and lovers. They care and love each other; why wouldn't they spend time together? And of course, his thoughts made sense. They did not need to take him with them because he didn't truly matter.

Still...

He had asked them, "Where are you going?"

And "Out to dinner," Lorenzo responded kindly.

"Don't wait up," Darius had chimed in.

They left after kissing him on the lips; their lips felt cold, though.

That night, the emotions came in stages.

First, self-scrutiny came, and Zane questioned his worth. What had he done wrong? Then came confusion. Had he not been good enough? Had he not done every fucking thing they asked of him? Did he not matter? What about the nights they spent together? Did nothing matter!? The bitterness came right after. He was jealous of Darius and then jealous of Lorenzo. Sadness followed. It caressed him with a tight grasp, suffocating him. He had shed plenty of tears.

Afterward, when he finished, he threw the roses and golden ring outside, and the ugly shirt followed—past the sliding doors and into the backyard. Then he went to bed and hollered into the sheets.

When Lorenzo and Darius returned and found out what he had done, Lorenzo got angry, his eyes boiling in rage whenever he looked at Zane. Darius was disappointed, unable to look at him at all.

That night, Lorenzo had ordered the bodyguards, five or seven of them, to probe the area for the jewel. They were out the whole night. When dawn came and they finally found it, Lorenzo had forced it back onto Zane's finger with a deep frown, a clenched jaw, and a firm warning: "If you take it off one more time, I will weld it permanently on your finger myself. Then I'll lock you in the cell for a month."

The threat stayed with Zane, so he never removed it from his finger.

That day made him realize something:

One: He was right all along. They did not genuinely care about his thoughts and feelings. They cared plenty for each other, though; they loved each other to great lengths.

Two: He had no voice when it came to anything; he must accept whatever they said without question.

Three: He was not viewed as their equal, the way they viewed each other.

That was four months ago.

Today.

Zane sat by the First Family's patio table, overlooking the background with Lorenzo and Darius.

As the minutes went by, he glared at them with bitter eyes while they talked to each other, staring into each other's eyes like love-struck fools while chatting about the family business, the Italians, and the re-doing of Zane's former compound, all the while ignoring Zane's existence. Or it felt like they were ignoring his existence. It had been a whole five minutes since either one of them spoke to him.

When they leaned in and kissed each other playfully on the cheek, giggling like clowns, Zane gritted his teeth and dropped the knife and fork back into the plate before him. He was no longer hungry for steak.

Usually, just seeing them together brought an abundance of joy. Not today—or the days prior, though. If anything, Zane's insides felt sour. He did not understand why he had to be around them. Of course they gave him their attention, more at times. But it no longer felt the same; it felt forced.

He might just be bitter.

Or he might just be onto something.

"Why aren't you eating?" Lorenzo asked, snapping Zane out of his wandering thoughts.

Zane did not answer. Instead, he folded his arms and looked elsewhere. He had nothing to say other than that he felt used and abused.

After Darius stuffed a forkful of steak into his mouth, he said, waving the fork around, "And why are you ignoring us? You hardly said a word since we came out here. Come to think of it, you rarely talk to us these days. Zane?" When Zane ignored him too, he turned his attention to Lorenzo. "You see, I told you he's ignoring us."

Zane sighed dramatically and looked toward the outdoor pool area, at the fountain, refusing to give them any form of satisfaction.

"Dammit Zane," Darius said, dropping his knife and fork down with a loud clink. "Say something."

Say something.

What did Darius want him to say exactly?

How utterly and hopelessly lost did he feel? How did he feel at home with them around, yet trapped at the same time? How did he despise them and love them in equal measure? How did they drain him and fill him up at the same time? How has he craved their marks on his neck and their claim of togetherness? How has he felt lonely without it? The emptiness he felt when he touched his neck, stretching each day, dug a hole inside him—a hole with nothingness that only they could take away.

This would only show weakness, and they feed off his weakness.

"I want to leave," he said instead.

"No," came an instant, stone-cold reply from Lorenzo while setting his knife and fork down.

"Then kill me," Zane said, not knowing why he chose to say such a thing.

Darius sucked in a deep breath. "What the hell are you saying?" he said with wide eyes before his eyes went to Lorenzo. "What did you do to him?"

Lorenzo's stern, questioning eyes never left Zane when he answered, "I didn't do anything. Zane, why are you behaving like this again? Do you miss the cell room? Because I put you back there if —"

"Then fucking do it! Zane yelled, swiping his plate off the table before he pushed himself off the chair and stood up. The corners of his eyes stung, so he gritted his teeth to keep his tears hidden. How dare Lorenzo threaten him after everything they've done together!?

Darius's eyes filled with alarm at the outburst. "Calm down," he said. "Lorenzo didn't mean —"

"You shut the fuck up," Zane said, pointing a finger at Darius before his eyes went to Lorenzo. "And you. Why am I still here, huh? What's taking you so long to just fucking kill me? You two had your fun, so do it. Shoot me." When Lorenzo made no move, simply staring at him with unreadable eyes, Zane's heart raced, and his breathing picked up. "Of course you won't. There are still others you two have to prance me around so they can see what a fucking failure I am—am I right? And let's not forget, you two aren't tired as yet of sticking your cocks up my—"

Lorenzo slapped a heavy palm on the tabletop to get Zane's attention. "That's enough!" he snapped before standing up. Although he did not seem mean and frightening like Zane remembered, the omega knew not to judge Lorenzo's pretentiousness, so he took a careful step back.

Suddenly, the atmosphere went eerily quiet for a passing minute. It caused uncomfortable shivers to race down Zane's spine, and his lips quivered, and he so terribly wanted to scream and cry—because he felt so frustrated!

Darius cleared his throat. "I think you need to calm down," he said. "Both of you. Let's eat and talk things through... Zane, I don't know what's gotten into you lately, but you can talk to us about it."

"You know what?" Zane said after a moment of silence, looking straight into Darius's eyes. "Fuck you." And then into Lorenzo's eyes. "And fuck you too. I'm done playing your little games. You kill me. Lock me away. Or let me go!" He yelled while tears unknowingly streamed down his face before he stormed off, knocking over his chair before he went.

Lorenzo's face morphed into a darkened look. "Zane, wait," he called out. "Don't walk away when I'm talking to you... Get back here!"

Zane ignored him.

"Sir." A bodyguard appeared in front of Lorenzo and Darius before bowing. "Should I get the others to escort Mr. Zane back to his room?"

Darius let out a deep sigh before his eyes locked with Lorenzo's. "No... Leave him."

_____________________________

Sometime during the afternoon hours, Zane slouched on the ground next to a bench in the back gardens. There, he shed a couple of tears—plenty of tears—while questioning his morality. At that moment, his heart ached for the two alphas, but they were not his to ache for. He faulted them for turning him this way, for making him feel fragile, a breakable thing, an omega. He faulted himself for giving in when he promised he would not. At one time, Darius had been an obstacle. And Lorenzo, his cousin, what were they doing? What was he doing? Why must his heart long for them? Why would he crave freedom yet no longer want to leave their sides?

So many questions, yet no answers. Only feelings.

Zane buried his face in his hands and hiccuped somber tears.

"Zane?" Darius's voice filtered into the garden.

Zane sucked in a breath when he caught sight of Darius. The alpha's eyes doubled, and the color in his face drained upon seeing Zane's disheveled hair and tear-coated face, and his steps quickened.

"What are you doing here?" Zane said, his voice trembling when he spoke. "I want to be alone. Leave."

Darius got closer. "We just want to talk," he said.

Zane muttered in the lowest of voices, "There's nothing to —" he paused. "We?" When fresh footsteps approached and the older alpha appeared in front of him, Zane's eyes swelled. "Lorenzo," he whispered before turning his face away and quickly wiping his eyes to get rid of any trace of lingering tears.

Darius took a seat beside him on the ground, and for a moment he seemed to hesitate about what to say. "Talk to us. Tell us what's wrong. We want to help," he settled on.

Zane stood up in one quick motion. "Stop lying to me," he said. A part of him thought he should leave—go back inside to hide somewhere else. Another part wished they would notice his suffering and... And fix it. "Neither one of you cares about me. You're just like the others I had to deal with. This is just a game, and I'm tired of it! I... It might not be obvious to you two, but I have feelings too. Just like everybody else. I have feelings."

At this point, Lorenzo grabbed onto his wrist before he could walk away. "What had Uncle Kan done to make you believe that no one could ever care about you?" Lorenzo asked, staring into Zane's eyes, seemingly hoping he might get the answers if he searched long enough.

"Lorenzo," Zane warned and begged. "Don't go there."

He had never told them exactly what went on in the Second Family's house, and he would rather keep it that way. The less they knew, the better.

Darius got off the ground and wrapped his arms around the omega's waist from behind, hugging him. "We care about you," he said. "We love you."

Lorenzo's grip on Zane's wrist turned frighteningly tighter. "Do you think it's fun to see you break down like this?" he said, and his voice expressed a great deal of sadness in them.

Did it hurt them to see him suffer?

Instantly, Zane's shoulders hitched before an embarrassing sob broke from his quivering lips. Soon, he began crying again. And when his face turned red, covered in ugly tears, he leaned back against Darius's embrace, seeking comfort. He felt grateful when the alpha tightened his hold on him.

Lorenzo stepped closer in front of him. "Zane?" His fingers brushed Zane's cheek, and shivers immediately raced down Zane's spine.

Zane rested his forehead on Lorenzo's chest while a feeling of defeat washed over him. "Even if you do care, it's not enough," he couldn't stop himself from saying. "You don't really love me either. Not like how you love each other."

"That's not true," Lorenzo replied.

"I see the way you look at each other," Zane said.

"We look at you the same," Darius chimed in.

"But it's not the same, is it?" Zane said.

Lorenzo snaked his fingers through Zane's hair and asked, "What are you talking about?"

"Look at my neck," Zane said. "Do you see any marks? If you genuinely care," he paused, and his thoughts wandered off...

Lonesomeness: The two alphas could not imagine the emptiness of it. Zane had known lonesomeness as though it might've been a second skin. It lived with him for a long time, stretching over the years. It dug a hole inside him. And when Lorenzo and Darius showed an ounce of comfort, they filled the hole with warmth and love—an abundance of joy. If they knew he wanted them to mark him, they would make excuses and probably laugh at his naiveté.

And they would, wouldn't they?

At the end of the day, he wasn't truly meant to be theirs.

"Forget it," Zane sighed before removing himself from Lorenzo's chest and Darius's hold. "I'm going inside. Don't follow me. I want to be alone."

"Wait." Lorenzo was quick on his feet, stopping Zane in his tracks before cupping the omega's cheeks with both hands. "Look at me," he said. "Is this what it's all about?"

Zane looked him in the eyes and lied, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Sensing the lie, a rumbling growl tumbled from Lorenzo's throat before his hand moved and gripped the omega's chin. "Tell me what you want," he said in a frighteningly calm tone. Zane's inner omega purred nonetheless. He needed this bastard alpha—how he hated how desperately he needed Lorenzo.

Lorenzo's eyes burned with darkness, and Zane found himself hypnotized. And before he could stop himself, the words "Claim me," escaped his lips. "Both of you. Claim me as yours. If you love me, you'll do it."

Suddenly, a wicked glint flashed across Lorenzo's eyes, and a barely visible smile curled at the corners of his mouth. It was like, finally—finally, he got Zane where he wanted him—docile and pathetic. Like, he won. Zane didn't know how to feel about this discovery.

"You know how long we've been waiting for you to ask?" Darius said it from over Zane's shoulder.

The omega's eyes doubled. They were waiting for him to decide. It made no sense. They never cared about what he wanted. He had no voice, no choice. He was nothing more than a caged bird, a thing to be—

In an instant, Lorenzo slithered into Zane's hair and tugged, exposing his neck. Zane gasped from the sting while his panicked face searched Lorenzo's face for something—anything that might give way to what the older alpha had on his mind. There was nothing, though. Darkness consumed Lorenzo. He had that look on his face—the same look he had when he snapped Zane's leg in half. Absolute madness—a demented lunatic. The rational Lorenzo had gone. Zane should be frightened by this notion. And although his heart quickened to the point of pain, he wasn't frightened.

"Why did you take so long to ask?" Lorenzo asked.

Zane's throat turned tight. "I thought —"

"You're lucky I've even given you the choice." Lorenzo growled with anger while his fingers tightened on Zane's hair.

Before Zane could get another word out, the alpha descended.

Sharp canines dipped into his scent gland, and he cried out beautifully. His omegan instincts were frightened by the sudden pressure, and he tried so desperately to move away. Lorenzo wrapped his arms around him though, sinking his fangs deeper, almost feral.

The alpha let out a pleased growl when tears sprung from Zane's eyes, and he rutted his hips against Zane's clothed cock.

Zane couldn't think straight, or he couldn't think at all. His mind felt like a foreign land. Everything hurts. His insides throbbed with flesh and veins. His whole body wasn't supposed to be seized with weakness like this. He was dying; he was certain.

"Lorenzo," he cried out, desperate for release. And when Lorenzo's eyes snapped open with madness in them, drinking in the sight of Zane's struggles with a deep interest and a mocking stare, Zane's heart skipped a beat. "You need to stop. Stop; it hurts. Lorenzo."

Lorenzo closed his eyes once more, so Zane's delirious ones searched for Darius.

"Darius?" he called.

"I'm right here, baby," Darius whispered into Zane's ear from behind his back. "Be still, okay? It's almost over. Just a little more. You want this, don't you?"

"Not like this." Zane nodded. "Get him to stop," he whimpered. He couldn't move; he felt trapped. He couldn't breathe, so he gasped. He was losing consciousness. "Darius, please. I —"

Zane screamed—a harrowing, deafening thing.

Darius had dipped down and bit alongside Lorenzo, finally marking Zane as theirs.

Tears leaked out of Zane's eyes as the struggle left his body. He was happy, in a sense. Now he belonged solely and exclusively to the two alphas.