Riley's POV

I don't even remember storming out of the building.

One moment, I was staring at Ethan like I didn't know him, as I'd never known him.

Next, my feet were carrying me through the lobby, past the glass doors, out into the cold outside, without a single glance at anyone. I didn't care if the important investors were waiting. I didn't care what rumors would spread.

Let them talk.

Let them say "Riley Grayson lost her mind." They'd be right.

I got into my car, slammed the door shut, and drove. I didn't check where. I didn't plan. I just kept my foot on the gas and my hand clenched around the wheel, my vision swimming with the weight of betrayal.

My baby...

My beautiful boy.

Gone.

And Ethan... God. Ethan did this?

"You're boring, Riley."

Those words wouldn't stop ringing in my head. The same man who took my virginity. I married at twenty when I thought love was enough to build a future on. I gave him three years. Three years of my youth, my body, my time, my soul, and now he stood in a glass office, buried in my best friend, telling me I was boring.

I blinked to wipe my tears, to see it clearly with my destination. It's the clubhouse. Downtown in Crescent Hollow.

It was not just any club, though. Not the type you can walk into unless you have a reason. This place wasn't built for humans like me. It was owned, run, and ruled by shifters, mostly werewolves of high rank like the Betas and Gammas. Pack Dangerous elites. Powerful and untouchable.

Let them throw me out. Let them tear me apart if they want. I needed air. I needed noise. I needed to forget.

I pulled the car into a side lot, got out, slammed the door behind me, and walked straight for the entrance with no hesitation. My black dress clung to me, wrinkled from hours of wear, tear-stained at the collar, but I held my head high as I stepped inside.

The scent of thick musk hit me first, mixed with sweat, leather, alcohol, and forbidden. The thrum of music pounded through my bones. The place was alive with movement. Dancers grinding against each other.

The low-ranking wolves-omegas in seductive forms with flashing smiles as they laughed, flirted, fought. No one noticed me at first. Maybe no one expected a human to walk in alone.

Definitely not a grieving one.

I made a beeline walk towards the bar.

The bartender, a tall shifter with silver rings in both ears and tattoos crawling up his neck, blinked at me like I was a hallucination.

"Tequila," I said.

He raised a brow but said nothing and poured a shot for me. I downed it in one go. He blinked in confusion and poured another. I downed. Third, Fourth. Fifth.

Ethan's voice was still echoing in my skull like a curse I couldn't shake.

After everything... after every night I held that man's business together... after every moment I managed to take care of our boy while he "couldn't be bothered."

Seven shots in, I slammed the empty glass on the counter and opened my mouth to ask for another, but the bartender hesitated.

"I'm sorry, miss," he said, glancing at me with narrowed eyes. "I can't give you more. You're wasted."

"What?" I frowned. "Are you the one who's going to tell me how much I want to drink? Do you even know how I'm feeling right now?"

I wasn't yelling. But my voice was loud, thanks to the music pounding through the club. The lights felt like they were spinning. My pulse buzzed in my ears.

"Pour me another."

"I'm serious," he said. "I'll get in trouble if I give you one more. I won't leave this place in one piece."

I snorted bitterly. "Says who?"

His eyes darted past me over my shoulder. "Says them."

I turned slowly, and my eyes landed on them.

Three men.

Three impossibly large, devastatingly handsome men were sitting at the far corner of the club in a booth no one else dared to come near. I hadn't noticed them when I came in - how could I have missed them? It was like the aura shifted around them. Like the room moved differently in their presence.

Their eyes were on me now. Watching intently. All three of them.

One with a jaw carved from stone and hair pulled into a loose knot at his nape.

Another leaned back lazily, fingers tapping against his glass, his eyes molten gold even from this distance.

The third seemed darker - danger seemed to curl around him like smoke, his unreadable expression fixed right on me.

They looked familiar somehow. Too familiar.

I squinted, rubbing my eyes. The tequila had definitely caught up to me, but something told me I'd seen them before. Somewhere. Somehow.

They were still staring, and all of a sudden, heat prickled hot across my skin.

What the hell did they want? Why were they looking at me like that? And what kind of sick twisted joke is that I have to listen to them?

Do they own this club or what? I slammed my palms on the counter, making the bar guy jerk in shock as I straightened up, wobbling slightly on my feet.

"They'll have to tell me who they're to tell me not to have more drinks," I said as I clenched my palms and walked up to them.

Riley's POV

I stormed up to their table, my heart thumping fiercely-not just from the tequila, but because something about them unsettled me. Their eyes locked onto me, unblinking. I felt the heat of their gazes press against my skin, thick and heavy like the humid air.

"Hey!" I snapped, forcing my voice steady despite the nervous flutter in my chest. "Why did you tell that man I can't have more drinks? Do you own this place or what?"

The tallest one-the first-lifted his glass, swirling the dark red wine inside like it was some kind of poison. His dark grey eyes caught the dim club lights and flickered with a lazy, unsettling smirk.

"We do," he said, voice low and smooth.

I blinked, momentarily frozen by the confidence in his tone. Still, I forced the words out. "Well, just because you own the place doesn't mean you can control how many shots someone has."

He raised an eyebrow, amused. "Apparently, we can, Riley Grayson."

That made me stop cold.

The second man spoke next, his voice a bit softer but just as commanding."We decide who drinks and who doesn't, Riley."

His eyes were the color of oceanic amber, like molten gold flecked with the deepest blue. They seemed to look right through me, as if they could see every secret I tried to hide. He was handsome, sure, but more than that-he carried an aura of confidence that drew attention without trying.

"How?" I stammered, fighting the mix of surprise and fear twisting in my stomach. "How do you know my name? Have we met before?"

Before they could answer, the third man's voice cut through the haze.

"You're not supposed to be here," he said sharply. His eyes were cold-silver, almost, and his expression was deadly serious. Something was frightening about his calm, like a wolf waiting patiently for the right moment to strike. His handsome features were precise, but his gaze held a weight that made the air between us suffocating.

He raised an eyebrow, his voice icy. "Does Ethan know his human wife is wasted in a downtown clubhouse?"

I froze. My mouth is dry, mind racing. "How do you know Ethan?" I asked, desperate for answers.

The dark-eyed man, the one with the smirk, leaned forward, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"We know a lot of things, pretty," he said with a slow grin. "And we also know about your now open marriage."

My breath caught, and my mouth fell open in shock. For a moment, I was speechless. The words stung-not because of what they meant, but because it was clear these men knew things no stranger should.

"Who the hell are you people?" I almost staggered back, my voice sharp with shock and suspicion.

They just smirked, settling back into their seats like they were enjoying some private joke I wasn't in on.

The second one, the one with those oceanic amber eyes, leaned forward, eyes locking onto mine like he could see every fracture in my soul. "Don't you know who we are?"

I hesitated. He let out a low chuckle, slow and dark. "Maybe that's because we've been away for a while, pretty. Out of town for three years. But we're back now."

Before I could react, the first man, the dark grey-eyed one with that lazy, dangerous grin, stood up smoothly, towering over me. I took an involuntary step back, the heat radiating from his body making it hard to breathe.

"Since you want an open marriage," he said, voice low and teasing, "we thought we'd make you an offer, Riley." His grin widened, sharp and wicked. "You want to get back at your husband, don't you? To prove you're not the boring woman he made you out to be?"

I found myself nodding, more out of shock than agreement.

"Good," he said, stepping closer, eyes never leaving mine. "Then let us join your open marriage."

I blinked again, the words hanging heavy in the smoky air.

"As you can see, there are three of us," he continued, a slow smirk playing on his lips. "And we can give you everything you've been craving for the past three years with Ethan."

His gaze was intense, daring me to respond.

"But," he added, voice dropping to a teasing whisper, "there's one thing you should know-we like to be... together."

The amber-eyed man nodded, his eyes gleaming. "One woman. Three men. At the same time."

My heart hammered, a mix of fear, anger, and something dangerously thrilling coursing through me.

I wanted to back away, to refuse, but something about the way they looked at me made it impossible. Not just desire but a challenge.

"Why me?" I managed to ask, not liking the images that were being painted in my head, nor the way my body was already reacting to those images.

The first man shrugged, that wicked grin still in place. "Because you're tired of being pushed around. Because you want to prove that you can still hold it in without him. And because... well, we like a woman who's wrecked and ready to be used to get what she wants ."

The silence stretched, thick with possibility.

I swallowed hard, my voice barely steady. "And what if I say yes?"

They exchanged glances, their smiles widening a bit in surprise. They might think I would have turned it down, but no, a wicked thought already crossed through my mind, mixed with the heavy alcohol that was swimming in my head at the moment.

"Then," the grey-eyed one said, "this night just got a whole lot more interesting," he said, his voice low and full of promise. "And once we start, we don't stop."

Riley's POV

I swallowed hard, knowing the smart thing, the sane thing, the Riley-Grayson-CEO thing, was to turn around and walk out of this club right now.

Walk away from the three men who looked at me like I was already naked on their bedsheets.

Walk away from the revenge that tasted like honey on my tongue.

So I turned.

One step. That was all I managed to take before a hand clamped around my wrist, large, hot, unforgiving, and yanked me back so hard I stumbled, my heel catching on nothing. My vision tilted as my back hit the wall of a narrow hallway that led to God knows where. The bass from the club thudding through the plaster.

The grey-eyed one was suddenly in front of me, caging me with his body. His scent slammed into me: leather and something deadly that made my knees want to fold.

"What-" My voice cracked. "What are you doing?"

He didn't answer. He just stared down at me, his pupils blown wide until only a thin ring of storm-grey remained.

The hallway lights flickered over the sharp cut of his cheekbones.

"What do you say to our offer, Riley?" His voice was quiet.

I tried to pull my wrist free, but his grip only tightened, his fingers pressing over my pulse that was racing.

"No...I-I don't want this," I managed, the lie tasting like ash. "That my marriage is open does not mean that I can fuck just anyone."

His eyes flashed into actual molten silver, bleeding into the grey, and the air around us dropped ten degrees. Behind him, the other two rose from the booth. No one in the club looked over. No one dared.

"Just anyone?" he repeated, soft and venomous. He stepped closer, and I stepped back, my spine meeting the cold wall. Another step. Another. Until his chest brushed mine and I had nowhere left to go.

His head dipped closer, his lips grazing the shell of my ear. "If I decided to start right now," he whispered, breath hot on my face, "I'd punish that mouth of yours first. I'd make you kneel on this dirty floor and choke on me until you forgot how to say no."

Heat flooded me so fast I swayed. My thighs clenched involuntarily, shame and want tangling into something vicious. I hated that my body answered him. Hated that I even painted the picture in my head.

"Get away from me," I hissed, but it came out breathless and broken.

He laughed, low and mean. "You want this. I can already feel it."

From behind, the amber-eyed one spoke, voice cruel. "Look at her eyes, Cane. Little human's soaked already, and we've barely touched her."

The third one with silver eyes and the coldest leaned against the opposite wall, his arms folded, watching me intently. "She still thinks she has a choice," he said, almost bored. "Adorable"

Cane? So that was his name, dragged his nose along my jaw, inhaling like he was memorizing my scent. "Tell me again you're not interested," he murmured. "One more time, and we'll bend you over that table in front of everyone in this club. I'll make sure they all see exactly how boring you're not, Riley."

My breath hitched. A tear slipped free from my face, grief, rage, lust, I didn't know anymore. He caught it with his thumb and swiped it off.

"Ethan took something from you today," the amber-eyed one said, stepping closer. His voice was gentle but cold. "Your son. Your dignity. Your illusions. Let us take something back for you."

I shook my head, but it felt weak. "Why? Why do you want to help me get back at him?"

Cane was slow. "Because taking what he threw away," he said, voice low enough to cut, "is the only thing that will make destroying him feel good."

The silver-eyed one finally moved, crowding in on my left until I was trapped between three walls of their muscle and heat and threat. He didn't touch me, but his voice slid down my spine like ice water.

"We share everything, Riley. Territory. Women. Especially women who walk in here wrecking with heartbreak, asking to be ruined."

My knees actually buckled, and he caught my other wrist, pinning both arms above my head against the wall with one hand. The stretch burned as Cane's thighs shoved between my legs, forcing them apart, the fabric of my dress sliding up high.

"Say it," Cane growled against my throat. "Tell us you accept the offer and want this."

"I-" The word fractured on my throat. Ethan's voice echoed in my skull [You're boring, pathetic, a walking tragedy]. I closed my eyes and saw Wendy bent over his desk, heard my baby's last heartbeat on the monitor.

Something inside me snapped a second time today."Fuck you," I whispered.

Kain's grip turned brutal. "Wrong answer."

"No," I said louder, meeting his eyes. "Fuck him. Fuck Ethan. Use me. Ruin me. Make me forget."

Silence dropped between us, a hard and heavy silence. Then the three of them smiled viciously.

And just immediately, Cane's mouth crashed into mine without warning, with no softness at all, no permission, just possession. His teeth scraped my lower lip until I tasted blood. His tongue forced its way in, claiming every corner like he was marking territory. I whimpered into him, hating how desperately I kissed him back.

The silver-eyed one slid his hand up my thigh, under the hem of my dress, his fingers tracing the edge of my lace pants that's already soaked through. "Jesus Christ," he muttered against my neck. "She's dripping for us."

He still held my wrists, his free hand coming up to fist in my hair, wrenching my head back so Cane could devour my throat.

I was shaking so hard my teeth chattered. My dead son's face flickered behind my eyes. Ethan laughed while he fucked my best friend. The open marriage I'd thrown at him.

I looked at the three men who could destroy me more thoroughly than Ethan ever had.

And I said the words that burned my soul to ash."Take me."

Cane's eyes flared darker. The other one released my wrist only for Cane to hoist me up by the thighs, slamming my back harder against the wall. My legs wrapped around his waist on instinct. I felt him, his huge, rigid bulge pressing against me through his jeans, and a panicked moan escaped me as he looked at me intently.

"Not here, Cane," The other one said, voice rough with restraint. "Private room. Now."

Cane released my hair as the cold air rushed in where his body had been, but he didn't put me down. He simply turned and carried me deeper into the hallway like I weighed nothing, my dress rucked up to my hips, my panties exposed to anyone who dared look.

But no one did

Cane kicked open a door at the end of the hall and said, "When we're done with you, we'll send you back to him so thoroughly claimed he'll smell us on you for weeks and know exactly who owns you now."