Alpha Royale Read online

  Alpha Royale

  A Harem Fantasy Novel

  Skyler Grant

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Author's Notes

  1

  "You do realize I could just hack the door," came Bridgit's Irish-accented voice through the ear-piece.

  "Didn't work out that well in Barcelona," Tyson said as he cut another wire. The security panel before him had been opened with acid eating through the lock, a silent if slow approach that he'd spent most of the last hour working on.

  "You always bring up Barcelona. That wasn't my fault. How was I know to Ginny and her crew were going to hack the system at the same time I was and try to fight me for control of that drone?" Bridgit said.

  That was one of the awkward things about thievery. There wasn't exactly a sign-up sheet so you could make sure two crews didn't try the same job at the same time. Especially awkward when a camera drone crashes into the wedding cake of the daughter of the man you are trying to rob.

  It was early in the evening, a little after eight PM, and elsewhere on the estate a party was going on. The chill night air carried the sounds of music and conversation. It was doing a lot to keep estate security distracted; it was why they'd picked this night.

  Another wire, that made four, and that was enough. Tyson fed the severed wires into a blocky device, a pair of red lights turning green.

  This was just a local system, interrupting the security sensors of a particular window. If all was going to plan, it had just registered a sensor interruption, but after a minute on a follow-up request, it had reported all clear. If security had time they'd send a guard out to investigate, just to be certain nothing was amiss, but the alcohol flowed as the night went on. Security was busy keeping high society from doing anything they'd regret too much the next day.

  "This job already has too many unanswered questions. I want to keep things as simple as I can," Tyson said.

  Bridgit had no response for that except for a hmph. As the technician of the team, there was nothing that she thought didn't call for a more clever device or solution.

  The next part of the plan wasn't exactly subtle, but sometimes a direct solution was best. Tyson anchored a line and swung off over the edge of the roof. The mansion was only three stories tall; it put the third-floor windows beneath his feet as he landed against them. A quick whirr of a diamond-edged blade and he was through to the other side.

  This put him in an office on the third floor, the office of the estate's owner.

  Oliver Rahse was a billionaire, a playboy, and by all accounts a harmless and charming hedonist that had absolutely nothing to hide. That made his discreet purchase of a Bextech RN-2708 alarm solution such a surprise.

  Tyson and the team had broken into Bextech months earlier to gain access to their systems. It was a job that had taken them months to pull off, but it was worth it. When your goal was to rob some of the most rich and potentially terrifying people on the planet, it helped to know who was buying the best in security systems.

  The RN-2708 was so elite a system that its very existence was something of a secret. It was the sort of thing used not just by those with something to protect, but those willing to spend a fortune to do it for the absolute discretion that came from Bextech.

  Tyson slid on his smart-goggles and tapped the side to activate them. The room flickered as scan lines overlapped his view of the room. He tapped again to switch between views such as electrical signatures, heat levels, and a night vision mode.

  Right now they weren't coming up with much that was unexpected. A computer on the desk, the lighting, everything in order and seemingly normal.

  "You seeing what I'm seeing?" Tyson asked.

  "Non-electrical. We know the door we're looking for will be. It must be further in. You're the one that likes things old school, you should be paying this guy to rob him," Bridgit said.

  Old school meant mechanical triggers, hinges, something that wouldn't be showing up to the electrical sensor.

  Anything that swung, however, would leave wear patterns, and that meant his attention will be on the carpet.

  A few more taps on the edges of Tyson's goggles switched them to a standard view, and he enhanced the brightness and magnification before walking the perimeter of the room.

  Bookshelves, not it. Paintings, sea-scapes, not it.

  A bust, Alexander the Great. The wear signs on the floor below were faint but definitely not natural. A quick exploration of the bust itself revealed nothing. Marble. Solid. If it rotated, pushed in, or had any hidden switches, they weren't clear.

  Tyson looked over the room once again. The choice of Alexander wasn't an idle one. A great conqueror; it didn't fit at all with the image of Oliver Rahse. That was just another piece that didn't fit, or rather, fit something completely different from what was publicly portrayed.

  People were the stories they told to themselves, and this man was telling himself a story. There -- on the desk. At first it appeared to be a modern art sculpture, a tangled ball of wires.

  It wouldn't be that to a man that idolized Alexander, to a man that thought of himself as walking in those footsteps. To such a man, this wasn't some abstract sculpture. This was the Gordian Knot.

  The Gordian Knot was part of the legends tied to Alexander. The king of Gordium had tied a knot so intricate none could undo it and said that any who could unknot it was destined to become the King of Asia. Alexander had cut through it with his sword. Probably not true, but a great metaphor that there was no problem so complex that it could not be solved by the direct application of violence.

  What was lacking was a sword.

  What seemed to be a hilt protruded from a cup on the desk and Tyson pulled it free. A letter opener in the shape of a miniature sword? That would do.

  "Going hunting?" Bridgit asked.

  "I've got a Gordian Knot situation. I need scans of the sculpture. Figure out where I am going to put the thing," Tyson said.

  "Get me the angles," Bridgit said.

  Tyson turned his head, moving to study the sculpture closely from all angles while his goggles scanned and uploaded the images to Bridgit.

  "Be careful of traps," Tyson said.

  "I know what I'm looking for, and you're right. Three possible entry points that fit your little blade, but none of the wear patterns look right. Not one trap, but three," Bridgit said.

  So it wasn't the knot at all? No, people were too into their stories. Whatever this man was hiding, he wanted that rush of feeling like Alexander when he went into it. Tyson reached out. It took a few seconds of feeling it out, but after a few moments the outer edges of the sculpture turned and settled into a new orientation with a faint click.

  That would do it. Tyson again maneuvered his head, taking new scans.

  "Two possible entry points this time. Only one shows the scratches of a fumbled entry a time or two," Bridgit said.

  "And we're sure the material can scratch?" Tyson asked.

  "You're not carrying a scanner that will allow me to do material identification. Figure it out," Bridgit said.

  There was one practical way to do that Tyson could see. He dragged t
he edge of the letter opener against the sculpture and put some force into it. Markings, faint but visible, were left in the wake.

  That meant Bridgit's choice it was. Tyson slid the letter opener into place. There was a click. A moment later a section of the wall swiveled inward, revealing a corridor beyond.

  Tyson put his goggles into scanning mode. The old school trigger was alarming. Either Oliver Rahse was especially alert to the way of modern thieves, or it was just a coincidence. From a man that bought top of the line security, Tyson didn't have any faith in the later conclusion.

  That meant being alert and careful. Any mechanical traps, in addition to electronics, the goggles scanned for. There didn't seem to be any. All he could see was just a short corridor ending in a featureless metal wall.

  The RN-2708 was in many ways simple, and that was why it was a work of art. One massive metal sphere, all of the surface could be used as a transmitter. No live data feeds, no ports to the outside world, everything that operated the vault was contained inside of it. You couldn't hack it, you couldn't breach it without sounding an alarm both here and back at Bextech. You might be able to jam the signal or build a Faraday cage around it, both solutions that Tyson had considered before just infiltrating Bextech itself.

  "Rathmines," Bridgit said through the comm before killing the line.

  It was a single word, but it chilled Tyson to his core. Rathmines was a neighborhood of Dublin. It was also the site of the worst day Tyson and his team had ever had. When every ally they thought they'd had wound up turning on them, and every detail of the job they thought they were running turned out to be false.

  Rathmines meant Bridgit was compromised, and that meant Tyson was compromised. It couldn't be the window. A guard spotting might have allowed them time to find Tyson, but not his operator.

  Was there any point in going back? If this was a setup, there would be security back there just waiting for Tyson.

  No, going back wasn't the right call. Tyson hadn't come all this way for nothing.

  Stepping forward, Tyson pressed his hand against the metal wall. Within, circuitry scanned. It was a shortlist the vault would allow in, including a few certified Bextech personnel, and Tyson's name just happened to be on that list.

  A hiss and the wall peeled away.

  Within was a single large room. Tyson knew that beneath his feet would be most of the actual electronics that made this vault function.

  The air within was crisp, cool, and completely recycled. In the event of a bombing or chemical attack, a vault like this could also serve as a safe room.

  The walls were filled with displays, but Tyson wasn't looking at a single one of them. From the moment he entered, he could see that he wasn't alone. A masked figure was seated in the middle of the room with a gun pointed right at him.

  "Mister Graves. I've been expecting you," said the seated figure.

  Tyson already had his own gun out and leveled. If this person had wanted to kill him, there were easier ways. It meant he had some freedom to let his eyes wander. The displays around were almost like museum pieces, but for recent events.

  The smallpox outbreak in Brazil. The takedown of the US air traffic control system that had resulted in the crash of fourteen planes.

  They weren't connected, not in any way Tyson knew, but the fact that they were facing off at all meant there were things he didn't know.

  This man had a pitch to make, a speech to give, the worst of bad guys always did. Evil just wasn't fun if you couldn't justify it or brag about it in the right setting.

  Tyson wanted to know what he had to say, but to let this go too long and his situation got worse, not better. Careful not to telegraph his movements, Tyson pulled the trigger.

  Suddenly, Tyson's view was blocked. A woman was in front of him now. Brunette, shapely, and in a killer red dress that hugged her hourglass figure. There was another woman in front of the chair, golden-haired and golden dress.

  Neither had been there a moment before and the room rung with the sound of twin gunshots.

  "Not today, boys. You've places to be," said the blonde.

  "Killing each other will have to wait. Trust me, you'll get your chance," said the brunette. She rested a manicured hand on Tyson's shoulder as the world vanished in a blur of light.

  2

  When the light faded, Tyson found himself seated in a chair in a circular arena. Each chair crested a small mound on the floor and contained a seated man with a woman standing behind him. Glancing backward, Tyson saw the brunette from earlier.

  Attempting to move was futile, some invisible force was holding him down and trying to talk wasn't accomplishing anything.

  "We'll talk soon, sweets. I'm Hana, by the way," said the brunette behind him.

  Tyson recognized several of the seated figures. Paul Tonit, the President of the United States. Alfred Wiles, one part celebrity and one part inventor. Colin Went, the world heavyweight boxing champion. One of the figures was staring at him, Oliver Rahse. No mask this time. He was in a suit and tie, as was everyone else, with the blonde standing behind him.

  Light flared, a thousand motes of multicolored light, and a new figure materialized in the middle of the room. The woman was tall, around six-foot. Vibrant pink hair was braided into a long ponytail and her skin was red -- emblazoned with intricate golden patterns from head to toe. She was lean, long muscles and firmly curved. She wore a bikini top, one side black and the other white, and a pair of shorts with the contrasting pattern. Apart that the only thing she wore was jewelry, but for that she was not shy. The silvery torc that rested upon her head was studded with diamonds, woven designs of the same metal in a pair of armbands and several glittering piercings adorned her body.

  "What's up?" The woman asked, twirling around to look at the room. "Right, captive audience and I've kind of turned off your ability to speak. It's all good, remain silent. I'm Vix, and I am sure you are all wondering just why I've chosen to abduct you today."

  Vix's eyes were a notable shade of red, they almost glowed.

  Tyson was trying to keep his wits straight. It was a strange look that Vix was sporting, and not really Tyson's thing, but if he had to rate all the women in his life he'd met by beauty, Vix had just forcibly elbowed the others aside. It wasn't how he should be feeling in a situation like this.

  "The really short version is that I'm a Lady of the Golden Sea. Render of veils, destroyer of worlds, yada yada. I need a husband. I vacation on your Earth, love your television, so yay, spoiler, it is going to be one of you," Vix said pacing back and forth. There was a certain manic energy to her.

  What she was saying would be patently absurd, if Tyson hadn't just been kidnapped along with some of the most powerful men on Earth.

  "Now I know what you're saying. But Vix! I'm already married, blah blah blah. I don't care, grab the golden ring boys. I'm the best catch you are ever going to have. Powerful and rich in ways you can't even imagine plus, so hot, so if you've been going around with an inferior model it is time to get yourself an upgrade," Vix said.

  Tyson wasn't married, or seriously dating. It was something of a complication in a business where somebody else could always betray you.

  "Now I like your world, but what I hate are the beta pieces of shit floating around it. Every one of you is an alpha, you are at the top of your game and your field. You're all straight, smart, and totally ruthless," Vix said with a toss of her ponytail. "If you weren't, you wouldn't be here."

  Tyson shifted his gaze for a moment to the others in the chairs. While he couldn't tell if everything she said was true, it was an unusual group. Nobody was panicking, everyone was focused. This was a room full of predators.

  "Behind you is standing your Nepha. They'll answer your questions, serve you however you desire for the duration of this contest. Make use of them. But I'm sure you want to know more. The contest itself!" Vix exclaimed.

  Vix gestured, and the air shimmered as a planet came into being, spinning overhead.


  "The planet Vorha, I made it just for our little contest. It has all your pulp fantasy pieces. Elves and Dwarves and Dragons, oh my," Vix said with a giggle. "Where every woman is beautiful, wears skimpy armor, and stepping off the road gets you eaten by things terrible and nasty."

  Could she do that? Create planets? Tyson didn't have any reason to doubt it, given his company.

  "It is going to be the battleground for all of you to kill each other. Or, force each other to submit. I'm not picky except that only one ultimate alpha is leaving that planet. Enslave the locals, make friends with them, butcher them to the last, whatever. Gather power, crush your foes, get the girl," Vix said, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

  The room was still silent, of course. Tyson still couldn't speak, and neither could the others.

  "I'm a huge reality show fan. There will special contests, events, this is going to be so much fun guys! Try not to play my game and I'll have a whole lot of fun cannoning you into the spotlight," Vix said.

  That eliminated the first option that Tyson had thought of, waiting. In any big fight, if you wanted to be the winner at the end, patience at the beginning tended to pay dividends. The more energy your opponents wasted on each other, the less they had to defend themselves from you.

  "For the next three days you are here at the mansion and then I drop you planet-side. Make friends, make enemies, flirt with me because seriously guys you want me on your good side. There is a library. Figure out where you want to go. But for now, enough of my talking," Vix said with a sunny smile. "Nepha, show your contestants to their rooms and answer any questions. Lockdown for the next two hours."