Vash chuckles. “If the stories are true, she is everything that you’d want in an omega. Curvy thighs. As creamy as milk. An ass to die for. Ready to spread and fill,” he coos.
The men lick their lips at the thought. Vash hopes he has not misled them, but he has no idea what the bitch looks like or whether the stories his brother told him weren’t simple boasts of dominance.
Does she even exist? He sure hopes so.
His ass is on the line.
“Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Does it?” Vash asks as they walk through the derelict station.
This place has gone to ruin. Came quicker than he expected.
“I’m not following your logic,” Lucas replies. “They’re traumatizing the poor bitch, and our likeness will be all over the reports tomorrow. Everything matters right now. We need to make the right moves.”
Vash laughs arrogantly as he props the exit open with his shoulder. “All I’m getting at is that you are both wanted in two provinces for acting against the chain of command. How will that shape up now that Cassian’s the big boss? Do you really think you can turn around and beg for forgiveness?”
They defected to find an omega. All of them. They’ll be killed. No one should be arguing to retreat this far into the trip.
The warm air outside stinks like a decaying beast. Lucas runs his hands through his slicked jet-black hair. While taking a breath, he then adjusts the sleeves that curl over his darkened forearm of ink. A sharpened, metal toothpick rocks against his lips.
“We’re fucking breeders. We do what we can to survive,” he growls.
“You’re talking about minor offenses, Vash,” Killian grunts.
“Not to mention, you have more at stake than we do,” Lucas adds.
Vash strokes the edge of his unkempt facial hair. His sandy mop wavers against his eyes, and, for a brief moment, he lets it hang like a curled thorn. He isn’t a devil like Cassian, but, sometimes, he wishes he could be.
“Leave me if you must, for I will suffer my losses alone easier,” he says.
The two alphas stop walking and share a glance, but Vash continues through the damp alleyway that leads through the heart of a massive dome, a high-security fortress designed by Cassian.
Already, he can see the faint outline of electricity that runs across the glass edges and rises above the buildings. It is one of the most heavily guarded areas within the province.
That doesn’t mean shit to them.
“Vash.” Lucas runs toward his pack-brother in arms. “How many chips you got?”
Chips. Money. A sliver of value.
Vash searches his jacket pocket. Feeling the loose coins roll across his fingers, he roughly counts the circular edges.
“Too many to count,” he says.
Lucas arches a brow. “Think the guards will take the bribe?”
This time, they can laugh and breathe a little easier, despite the polluted air that swirls into their lungs. Vash doesn’t have to answer that one. The guards, police, soldiers, and breeders love a sweet kickback.
Voice clinging to a cacophonous note, Killian sings, “It’s a dog-eat-dog world.”
Lucas grins foolishly. “It’s a god-eat-dog world. We’re the dogs.”
“Quit with the jokes. They’ll take the fuckin’ bribe,” Vash says.
Continuing forward, they keep their eyes on the trail until a voice shouts down from a tower. “Hands!”
Killian is the biggest of the bunch, and the first one to step forward. With two rifles in his hands, he fixes the weapons at the alpha above. He makes sure the guards know they are armed.
He shakes his head forward to lower his rounded sunglasses and grins. “Can you see my hands from up there, fuck-wad?”
“An Ouroboros…”
Going ahead with the plan, Lucas steps forward next. “We need access into every room in this facility.”
It’s a hell of a lot to ask.
The sleek metal clicks from the guards’ writhing fingers. They have their red sights focused on the pack, but Vash saves the best for last.
“Okay. You win,” Vash says, stepping forward. Raising his hands in the air, he kneels on the concrete, immediately soaking his kneecaps.
The guard lowers his weapon and lets out a shriek of anger. Sniffing, the man cocks his head through the thin window.
“A ploy,” he whispers.
“Not a ploy. I am of Cassian’s blood,” Vash says, revealing the unique and glowing ink on his wrist. The snake eating its own tail. The Ouroboros.
The guard chuckles. Maybe he’s heard that excuse one too many times. “We will need to fingerprint and quarantine you and your men if you want access,” he says. “That will come after we call Lord Cassian.”
Lord Cassian. Vash hasn’t heard that one before. He feels the urge to hurl.
“Fredrik Johansson,” Vash says. The man stirs, but he does not say a word. “Two children. One mate—a biological beta female, who, by her very nature, is not fruitful. Law requires you to keep an omega in the household at all times if you are a breeder, correct?”
“I… I do not thin—”
Vash stands and reveals the glimmering coins. Cupping his palms, he allows the money to fall onto the wet pavement, coin by coin. “Let us in, and all of you can live deliciously.”
Heavy whispers from above shrouds the guards’ plans. It is easier to take control of someone than most think. Cassian knows this. He’d taught Vash his ideas, but Vash internalized it in the opposite way. He is more compassionate than his brother.
Every brute deserves hell for their sins. However, that doesn’t mean he will let the omega off easy.
True enough, the omega doesn’t mean shit to him.
The guard grimaces but agrees. “Sending someone down. Lower your weapons.”
Without a word, the alphas comply and even kneel to the guards above. As the lone guard descends the ladder, Vash smiles at his instant success. Now, he can find his brother’s grand experiment, the overwhelming loneliness he trapped inside a body.
The omega they came to take.
Stepping into the puddle of water, the guard strides in front of the men and raises his rifle. He doesn’t seem too pleased with the coinage.
“I cost more than that,” he scoffs.
Vash raises his eyes at the alpha and analyzes his youthful face. He’s practically a kid. Must be in his late teens. He doesn’t know fuck-all about this house of trauma and pain. Someday, when Vash takes control, he will find out.
“You called my bluff,” Vash says.
The guard nudges his barrel against the tip of Vash’s cold nose. “Don’t have all night,” he growls.
When the last of Vash’s coins spill out of his pocket and into the man’s grubby hands, a sudden stillness surrounds them, as if the guard has just realized their plans. “Is this a-a-a-?” he stutters.
Killian finishes the boy’s sentence for him. “Set up?”
Vash runs his fangs against his lips, teasing the moment out. “I’d advise you and your men to leave the area at once.”
“We’ll disband, but you’ll have to blow the dome open and take out any remaining men inside,” the guard says. “I’m not taking the fall for this.”
Killian grimaces and grinds his heel on a rock beneath his boot, unhappy. Vash assumed his pack brother would go along with the plan because he wasn’t fond of Cassian.
It wasn’t Cassian’s brutishness that bothered Killian, necessarily. Behind every action was a clear lack of loyalty and disdain of any overarching hierarchy. Killian could never understand it. A pack was supposed to be devoted to the group at large, but Cassian is a lone wolf hell-bent on taking power.
Killian frowns. “You must be proud.”
Vash can’t help but smile. He is proud. Everything is going according to plan.
The man raises his eyebrow before pocketing the remaining coins. Pointing at Vash, he peels his lips back, revealing a dreadful smile. “A man’s got to eat.”
/> Appearing calm and collected, Lucas lowers his night-vision goggles and images the area for any heat signals. Quickly, he finds a row of sheds, rooms that house the omega subjects. However, scattered throughout the vicinity are other guards. It’s not going to be as easy an entrance as they’d once thought.
Even then, they have no guarantee she will actually be in this facility. Vash has gone off his brothers’ descriptions, but there are notable signs she has been moved. Plus, there are facilities scattered throughout every neighboring metropolis.
Lucas tries not to think too hard about this. The mission itself is more important than muddying his mind.
Reaching into his bag, he feels the dense mold of C4 and copper wiring. Every step needs to be followed to accurate detail, or they’ll all be dead.
Lucas inserts the blasting caps into the crystalline white mold, carefully bending the material to suit his needs. He applies the sticky adhesive and tops it against the thick glass entrance of the dome. Lastly, he threads the cables into a small black box.
He snarls at the remaining guards. “Get your men the fuck out of here,” he cries.
Quicker than he expected, the men come down. “Where’s the money? C’mon, asshole. We played by your rules. Pay up.”
Rules? Rules don’t matter. A ploy is a ploy.
Killian withdraws a pistol from underneath his jacket.
“Truly sorry about this,” Killian mutters before hugging the trigger of death.
Buckets of bullet casings drift toward their bodies, sizzling with the smoke of gunpowder and red mist of fresh alpha blood. The three unleash a wave of horrid killing.
Soon, the alarm breaks through the air, sending shock waves of panic throughout the area. Any second now, droves of soldiers will descend upon them.
“Lucas, what’s it going to be? We’ve got sixty-seconds to get in there,” Vash says.
Lucas punches a code and waits for the correct response tone from the machine. “We’re good to go.”
Running to the other end of the road, they crouch behind a metal sheet and wait. But as the alarm gives way to penetrating gunfire, Vash frantically clutches his hands over his head to protect himself. “What the fuck, Lucas? When’s this thing going to blow?”
Biting down on the metal toothpick, Lucas abruptly curses and squeezes around the butt of his rifle, sweat building around his palms. “Killian, tell me you put a new fuse in the box,” he speaks through his teeth.
Killian shakes his head. “Don’t put this one on me, pal.”
“Fuck,” Vash screams.
As soon as Lucas pokes his head out, a bullet digs through the concrete near him. He ducks behind the cover again, praying. “He made darkness his secret place. His canopy around him was dark waters and thick clouds of the skies…”
“Shut the fuck up and get out there,” Killian screams.
Tumbling into the frantic war zone, Lucas jumped away from the sounds of whizzing bullets and falls against the detonation box. He picked it up, glancing at the levels on the LED screen. “Fuse is fine,” he calls out.
“Shit, shit, shit.” Vash darts out from behind the metal sheet. Loosely aiming his rifle, he squeezes the trigger and fires blindly.
He runs toward Lucas, scraping his legs across the rain soaked pavement. “You okay?”
Lucas nods, but he’s rushed for time. “I’m good, but this should have worked. I don’t understand.”
Killian loads a second clip and grins as he takes out a guard on the west wing of the dome’s central tower. “What the fuck is the problem?” he asks. “Light that puppy up.”
Annoyed, Lucas hits the side of the box with his palm. Suddenly, the glass erupts in a pulverizing detonation. The sound blisters through their eardrums, knocking the men to the ground.
As Vash watched it all unfold, the scene seems to slow down. The puddles on the ground dry almost instantly, but before he can close his eyes for the kiss of Death, rough hands pull him away from the burning rubble.
A cold, callous face slithers above his. “Brother…”
A chill runs through his veins before the shock numbs his nerves.
It’s over.
Cassian found them.
Chapter Three
“As you know, the old Republic’s coalition of armies will forfeit their rule over the seven continents. I will replace them with certain…small factions. My men, of course,” Cassian says. “Traders. Bounty hunters. We’ll keep the long-lasting institutions, but there will be some major changes.”
Rae rests on his lap like a small kitten. Dirt runs through her once shiny strands of hair, and a large red bruise swells underneath her eye.
As she listens to the devastating news, she watches her father, an old man with stress eating at his heart. The wrinkles seem to reach every patch of skin. She sees his every weakness and knows what fate he’ll bestow on her.
Coward.
This isn’t reality. She understands this is just a memory Cassian teased out of her like the melody of a broken snow-globe. However, every time she lapses onto that strain of truth, a rush of confusion shrouds her thinking.
Maybe everything is an illusion…
A smile forms on her face as soon as the thought passes. It gives her a sense of peace to think of her memories as unique rooms with doors that can open or close at will. Sometimes, she will see her father and feel the utmost love. On unpleasant days, she will see Cassian’s shadow and tremble.
Perhaps “peace” isn’t the right word, but if she believes these visions aren’t a mechanism of being trapped inside a gilded cage, she can keep finding the energy to push onward.
She has to believe she is free. Has to.
Cassian spreads her legs over his thigh, and he lightly taps his heel against the wooden floor. As her pelvic bone bounces against his kneecap, Rae counts the exact number of spiders she sees hanging on the dirty cobwebs above the doorway to the living room. Eight legs on all of them. She imagines plucking each out. Was that how Cassian felt when he saw her running away?
Her father bows his head like a fanatic, one of the crazed people in the cities she has heard so much about. He praises the accomplishments of Cassian’s veterans, of his skillful planning and fortitude.
“Let’s discuss what you came to discuss,” her father says.
A jagged grin cuts against one side of Cassian’s cheek. “Which is what?”
“You have a liking for my girl. Don’t play games with me, sir.”
He stops bouncing his heel. Rae squirms away to her papa, and Cassian lets her run.
Pulling on her father’s work clothes, she cries. “Daddy, please. I want to stay with you.”
“It’s okay, sweetie,” he whispers.
A shiver of darkness runs through her, but her father makes no attempt at squelching her fear.
“How much is she worth to you?” he asks.
“Ten thousand chips,” Cassian says.
Scorching air falls from the man’s mouth as he pretends to think about the number. Obviously, it’s a substantial offer. Ten thousand chips can get him through the next five years of instability. It just might save his life.
“I might need some time to think,” he says.
Cassian reaches for his belt. A fairly large leather satchel hangs off the side, full of lifesaving coins. As he dangles his fingers around the bottom of the sack, they jingle loud enough to tantalize the father.
“Time is something that I no longer have,” Cassian says. “The city of Dagon will fall any day now. I need her.”
“Then so be it. It is the lord’s way,” he says, voice trailing low until it disappears.
“Yes. The lord’s way,” Cassian repeats.
Rae’s father lifts an eyebrow and smiles with sudden joy. “Shall we pray?”
Religion is the one thing that has lasted throughout the ages. The passages from the great scrolls can be taken, twisted, and molded like the clay that made alphas. It’s a tool of control much like everything else
in this grotesque world.
Cassian kneels in front of the girl. “Come. We don’t have to play games anymore. You know what happens next,” he says.
Rae walks toward him and places her arms around his portly neck. “Will it hurt like last time?” she asks.
Cassian nods and takes her hand. Unfurling her index finger, he drags a sharpened nail across the skin. “Pain is your body’s response to weakness. If it hurts, it is your fault for being unprepared.”
He presses the tip of his nail until a thin pool of blood forms.
“Ouch!”
Rae jerks her arm back and dips her finger onto the bed of her soft and healing tongue.
Weakness.
She takes his hand and watches Cassian channel his blade out of its sheath. “You are mine now.”
She nods.
“So be it. The lord has spoken,” her father says.
Quick and easy, Cassian slices her father’s throat clean. Sprays of blood shower onto Rae’s nose, lips, cheeks.
Unlatching the leather satchel on his hip, Cassian allows the coins to fall onto his twitching body.
The front door swings open as the house starts to deconstruct into ashes. Outside, the landscape turns into a darkened mess. He pulls her toward the open storm, laughing.
One thing is for sure. When he opens her, she will tear his fucking cock off.
* * *
Calmly steadying his eye against the microscope, the specialist gazes at the girl’s blood sample, swiveling the dial to enlarge the image. “Everything in the slide appears normal,” he reports.
Her immune system is a little weak, but Cassian knows that can clear up in less than a week with the proper hydration and nutrition plan. He will socialize her again when her mind heals.
He prays this will be the last round of memory treatments they have to give the poor slut.
Tracing his finger down her smooth stomach, Cassian stops when his nail hits the center of her navel. “My brother Vash has taken one facility down in the East. Near Dagon.”
The doctor clears his throat and sucks in a breath.
Broken Angel: The Complete Collection: A Dark Omegaverse Romance Page 2
