Cassian reaches for his blade to slice it through the idiot’s gut, but the alpha has spoke the words he has been waiting to hear for weeks. “We found a specialist crushed in the pipes. Left for dead, but is still alive. Says he knows where to find your brother.”
Cassian nods, following the officer to the corroded steps away from the sands. Barnacles cling to the edges as the toxic water rushes out. The smell is rancid—Cassian always loved the shores of this continent.
“He was never my brother,” Cassian mutters. “Where is the specialist?”
“The Omega nightclub in Dagon’s red-light.”
Cassian gazes at the skyline of the city and feels nothing. The fires from the areas of destitution fans against the looming buildings. The entire horizon is sulfur yellow.
The city is only half destroyed, but he is sure it will be nothing but a memory soon enough.
Cassian brings his hand around the butt of his blade and squeezes the tough leather. “You took him to the clubs?”
The man startles, shocked by his leader’s anger.
But before the alpha can speak, Cassian cuts into the soldier’s abdomen, watching him gawk with perplexity.
He detests the nightclub sector. Naturally, all the talent was fashioned from her code. Subject EC23. Rae. They are flawed units, designed to dance, fuck, and please for the right amount of money.
They filter out the old models through a time-based system. Four years of work before complete eradication.
He hates seeing the old models.
The substandard copies cannot bear life. Still, they aren’t like the betas that populate most of the city. They produce slick and pungent scents.
The club sector is a cesspool of debauchery and scum. But he finds himself running toward those streets, toward the lights that draw alphas in like moths.
As he pushes his way through the crowded streets, he looks up at the neon insignia in the middle of the courtyard. The image of a black mamba gagging on its tail is the perfect metaphor for this world.
Time will catch up to them, but he’ll figure a way out. Mother is right. They have bigger plans.
Below the luminescent entrance of Omega Unlimited, a bullhorn blares the words: “I am the alpha and the omega, the first and the last, the beginning of the end.”
As soon as Cassian sets foot in the darkened establishment, everyone stops to gawk at the infamous brute. Even the copies stops dancing to gaze at him.
Walking toward a drunken trader, he forces his hand around his throat, tightening to an extreme. “Where is he?”
The man gags as Cassian collapses his cartilage.
“Useless,” Cassian says, tossing him to the side. Feeling his anger get the best of him, he walks toward the copies.
“All of you mean nothing to me. I could kill you all just like him. One by one, I could watch your bodies burn.”
A thin and wavering voice reverberates from a nearby room. “You are looking for your brother?”
Cassian doesn’t bother to answer. Instead, he makes his way toward the specialist, fists tightening. “It was you. You cured him,” he grunts.
The doctor’s head is dressed with gauze, and the blood has already soaked through. Backing into the corner wall of the room, he clears his throat. “Only temporarily,” the specialist protests.
Shutting the door with force, Cassian makes sure nobody can see or hear them speak. “As far as sexual release, I don’t have a preference for gender. Don’t make me fuck you raw. It will ache more than your head wound.”
Acknowledging his weakness, the doctor kneels, scowling. “I came to you, but I’m not doing it to gain anything.”
“I employ twenty-five percent of this city,” Cassian growls.
“But not me,” he says.
Cassian reaches for his holster, where a long pistol lay straps. “Your advantage is clear.”
“Please. The world must go on. Your ideas must continue to spread,” he says. “I believe in you.”
Ideas spread like a virus. Cassian doesn’t care about the meaning behind his actions as long as he achieves his goals. Even if he fails, the world will remember him forever.
“Why must you speak? Do you believe yourself to be a prophet?” Cassian asks.
The doctor stumbles on his words and tries to work back through his error. “I am not,” he says, “but—”
Cassian pulls out the pistol and aims it against the sopping mess of blood on his head. “Who are you then?”
Closing his eyes, the sad sack lunges back with crocodile tears. “I am just a loyal servant.”
“You offer cures to men’s afflictions,” Cassian says. “Who gave you the right to direct the course of the world, beta?”
“I am not laudable,” he admits.
Cassian’s voice is thunderous. “Yes. You are pathetic. You aren’t worthy enough to untie the straps of my sandals.”
Sputum graces the beta’s lips and chin. “I am just a voice who calls to you for forgiveness,” he reiterates.
Cassian cocks the handgun, cringing when the metal clicks into place. “Where is my brother?”
Tears boiled against his aging eyelids. Leaning forward, he turns prostate and vulnerable. “They spoke of the barracks.”
Finger planted on the trigger, Cassian feels the warm heat of the gun explode outward with entropy. His wanton disregard for any life but his own or his mother’s is clear.
The doctor slumps in a pool of ordure, now past his prime.
The bastard got what he deserved. And Cassian got what he came for.
Next, he’ll have Vash and the concubine begging for his seed.
Chapter Nine
Surrounded by the sound of the pouring rain, Rae clings to the bed sheets and cowers.
She focuses her ears on the abrupt tapping, but with each window boarded up, Rae has to use her imagination to paint the stormy scene around her beautiful house.
“I don’t want to leave,” she whispers.
Weeks ago, she would have been ecstatic to escape. But as she finds a new rhythm with the alphas, she feels uncertain about the outside world.
The alphas have coddled her too much. They feed her fruit and take a liking to her cheery, chubby smiles.
“Precious, we can’t stay in the city. We’ve discussed this,” Vash says.
Rae doesn’t understand their reasoning. Will they force her to move every few weeks?
Sitting on the mattress, Killian traces a finger around the lock of her collar. “You must listen to us, Precious.”
Rae looks at the alpha and sighs. “You’re right. You’re always right.”
The ovulation ritual is of biological importance. They tend to each wound and feed her pills to filter out the pain, so she can finally heal.
When she is healthy, the alphas check her pussy lips, savoring the sight of growth.
Lucas moans and feed her a taste of her own slick. “Delightful.”
Twisting Rae’s taut nipples, Killian lowers his mouth and applied heat to her neck. His rough facial hairs scratch her like sandpaper. Strangely, she enjoys it.
“Do you adore the taste of your pussy, Precious?” he asks.
They have taught her to enjoy so many things. Rae swallows the sour taste and smiles. “Yes,” she whispers.
As she enjoys the warmth Killian gave her body, she sinks into his wide chest. “You are great teachers.”
As cute as Rae appears, Vash ignores her new optimism. Glancing down at her fine heap of pubic hair, he asks the alphas, “What is the viscosity and transparency of her vaginal excretions?”
“No more clear, bright crimson blood,” Killian says.
“She won’t bleed anymore,” Lucas adds.
Leaning over Killian’s body, Rae feels her pride escalate. “I have learned how to take you.”
She giggles.
Vash bends his mouth over the prickly muff. Tasting the viscid slick that leaks like slow-moving lava, he holds her legs spread. “She will reach the peak of her ovulat
ion in a few days’ time.”
Killian nods but appears worried. The barracks aren’t a safe place for fugitive omega traders, such as them. If Cassian is to find them anywhere, it is in that shit-hole.
“Will we make her a nest in the barracks?” he asks.
Lost in thought, Vash says, “I’m not sure. It’s packed with dangerous alphas.”
Admittedly, he hasn’t thought that part of the plan through. He and the alphas talked it through for days but couldn’t agree on the next steps. Lucas, for one, was completely against the idea.
“However, the barracks are big enough to blend in,” Vash argues.
Lucas’s eyes flash so wicked Rae jumps back, ass curled against Killian for more support.
“I don’t give a flying fuck. I’m not risking my life,” Lucas says.
“Aden. He’s my Plan B,” Vash says.
“He will turn us in, the snake,” Lucas hisses.
Aden is a trader from the South Sea border zones, near the coast of Dagon. Though he isn’t technically a part of Cassian’s regime, he benefits from their business.
Vash always thought of him as an excellent friend, but it is clear Lucas views him differently.
“I need those kits, Lucas,” Vash says, trying not to argue in front of the omega.
“Then buy the kits in Dagon. There are street vendors on every corner,” Lucas says. “I don’t understand the danger of heading into a place like the barracks. For one, there are enough cameras to fill an island. Two, it’s run by Cassian and his men. Sure, the outer regions aren’t safe, but we have a better chance of keeping the bitch in our control if we keep in the other direction.”
“The tests have a high probability of being faulty,” Vash argues. “Plus, you know the regulations put on doctors and specialists.”
“Used to be we didn’t have to follow the law,” Lucas says.
“When a citizen makes an appointment with any specialist, they must document it with the correct identification hardware,” Vash says.
Fingerprint scans. Retinae scans. Bio-scans of all kinds. This is all standard procedure.
Killian winds his arms around Rae’s soft body, squeezing. “Vash is right. We need to be careful. We don’t have the privilege we used to have.”
“What makes you so sure we’ll find what we need in the barracks?” Lucas asks.
Killian feels the urge to throw fists. The more he thinks about the future, the less certain he becomes. “Whether we like it or not, we need to keep moving.”
Vash wants to keep her as she is. The outside world is full of things that can taint an omega, reintroducing her to ideas that might ultimately lead to her regression.
None of them want her to stumble back into her madness, but the looming threat of torturous imprisonment and even death seems like a worse fate.
Vash slams his fist against the drywall until it leaves the prints of his knuckles. “Enough,” he shouts. “Cassian’s overconfidence and stupidity led me to her. Me. I found her, which is why it is now my choice to make the next move.”
Lucas shows his rage. “We will not make a nest in that place.”
“Very well,” Vash says.
They shouldn’t argue in front of Rae. When they hurl insults at each other, it frightens the brittle flower, now closer to ovulation. If they keep it up, she will try to make a run for it.
“Please stop fighting,” she whispers, soft and sweet.
The men stop and stare at her. Continuing, she speaks up, despite the consequences. “Lucas, we must go to the barracks. Do you wish for Vash to die?”
Lucas sucks in a deep breath and exhales. “No. The pack’s legacy is important to me.”
“Then, we will go. When we buy the kits, we will head to a safe place where you can knot, and then I will nest. I know where we can go,” she says.
The three alphas lurch over her. “Where?” Vash asks.
“My home village, Varikar,” she says. “There is a doctor there. You can get the treatment you need.”
“You will not be reunited with your family,” Lucas warns. “You know who you are.”
She swallows. Yes, she knows. But deep down, she believes there is a possibility all of what she remembers of her home is real, not make believe.
“We talk later,” Killian says. “Cassian will be looking for us. We should keep moving.”
After the men dress her in thick robes to mask her identity, they leave the house, never to return.
Screeching, a subway train comes to a sliding halt near the crowded platform. “How many more stops?” Lucas asks, eyes searching the passengers who board.
“Just keep your hoods up and stop talking,” Killian mutter.
Vash digs his fingers into the omega’s waist as he eyes two possible traders boarding the rundown car. Glancing down at his feet, he pauses until their scent wafts into the back of the vessel before speaking up. “Not long before we get into the barracks.”
Omegas can move freely with their owners, but authorities are on the lookout for one in particular. Every movement is a risk.
As the train speeds forward, Lucas stares through the crowd of fetid alphas, hand on his holster.
Rae watches him but does not say a word.
Rae has only spent a few weeks under their control and care, but she carries a general sense of how they work. The bond of their pack connects them, but she wonders how far that connection goes.
“Hey, you.” A cold-blooded, unfamiliar alpha stands before Rae. Her glossy eyes roll upward to face the creature.
Killian stands and removes his revolver, pressing it into the bastard’s gut. “Get moving.”
Smiling, the alpha reveals his rotting teeth. “Persuasive, aren’t you?”
“One blast is all it takes to remove you from history,” Killian growls.
But the strange alpha doesn’t seem to care. Forcing his hand around the barrel, he steps forward. He keeps his eyes fixed on Rae, and not the alphas who own her.
“I’ll do anything to taste her,” he says.
The ringing of her ears seems to occur before Killian’s gun goes off, but Rae knows it to be a trick of the mind.
Rae notices that the rest of the passengers have lowered their heads. She is the only one still staring at the man’s exploded head. His body, a sunken mass near the moving doors, spills more blood.
Killian holsters the dripping and blistering weapon. “Fuck me,” he grunts.
Vash curses under his breath and stands with his hand in his jacket pocket. A stale attempt at rectifying the pitiless murder, he pulls out a small badge that flashes Cassian’s insignia with neon cathodes.
The ones who peek at the logo, quickly look away in fright.
When the train car stops for a second time, Vash yanks Rae up and onto the platform. The station itself is unlike anything she has seen, though that has become a trend for her.
Outside, Rae can’t stop thinking about the alpha in the train. “Why did he give his life for me?”
Ignoring Rae’s badgering questions, Vash pulls her through the front doors. Outside, a group of drunken traders bump Rae’s frail body, causing her to fall to her knees. She gazes up at the tall arena that stands a brief walk from the station.
“I didn’t expect this,” she whispers.
Killian pushes her forward and out of sight. “Too much talking,” he says. “You’ll get us killed.”
Lucas follows them to the entrance of the small base. “Welcome to our old home.”
And that’s when she realizes where they are.
The barracks are the major camps for the alpha slave traders who work under Cassian.
Walking inside the arena, Rae counts the number of alphas near her and feels the sudden urge to cower and run. “No,” she stammers. “We can’t stay here.”
Vash throws her forward with a hard smack. If she complies, the rest of the alphas won’t ask to see her branding. Even if they do, Vash can come up with a lie that sticks. After all, he is
Cassian’s own brother.
Rae’s careless acting out doesn’t help their cause. “Would you like to go back in the closet?” he asks.
She shakes her head.
“Head down, before somebody sees you,” he growls.
Using his fingers as a fishhook, Lucas brings her up and caresses the back of her head. For a few long seconds, her plump, red lips dangle as his fingers thread through her fine hair.
“Testing your luck, Precious?” he asks.
When he kisses her, he chokes his tongue into her candied mouth. The sweat perspiring from his forehead runs across her, and she inhales him with deep comfort.
The sweetness of her flower is too great for any alpha, but Vash watches as Lucas restrains his hunger to punish.
They need to find a safe room first.
She lurches her lips forward for another kiss, but Lucas nudges his chin back before delivering another hammering blow. Rae feels the skin tighten around the freshly swollen lump, head reverberating. Though the urge to cry is strong, she knows she shouldn’t.
“Thank you for reminding me,” she says, bowing her head against the static light of the inside.
“Next time, I’ll break the flesh,” Lucas warns.
As they walk through the grounds, Rae can’t help but notice how large the place is. The area itself must be twice the size of the pipes.
Small shops line the back areas. More merchants holler. Soldiers laugh, drinking psychotropic drinks. The sleeping quarters are in the center of the building.
The smell of meat and unfamiliar odors waft into the surrounding air. Stomach rumbling, Rae remembers that she hasn’t eaten in almost two days.
“Food,” she mutters hungrily.
“Not much food here, but you can feast on our seed if you ask politely,” Killian says through his wicked smile.
As they round another corner, Rae jumps at the sight of a young alpha, mouth open, covered in soaking cum. His eyes sway into the back of his skull as his ass opens wide with pumping knots. Four shafts rip into the meaty hole as a crowd gathers to take turns unloading into his mouth.
This place is filth. Disgusting filth.
Rae does not ask why these men engage in such bizarre behaviors. She doesn’t have to ask anymore. As horrid as Dagon was, the buildings and sizable crowds gave it an air of safety.
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