by Addison Cain
Swallowing, she nodded as if promising there would never be another time.
“And you will stand before my men, and watch. At my side.” Voice dropping in tone and thickening with warning, he added. “A loyal, marked Omega.”
Cold, teeth rattling, Wren nodded again.
“Don’t disappoint me.” That final warning given, Caspian threw back the covers to show that both Kieran and Toby stood near enough to grab and pin her down. And both of them wore unyielding expressions, measured her, ready to spar.
“Come.” In his hands, Toby held clothing. A luxury they had denied her since dragging her chained from a cage. “We don’t have much time.”
***
The dress was white, bridal. Completely inappropriate for the grungy Waterworks or the disgusting crowds gathered within. Already the dragging hem had grown saturated, lace catching on old cement and sodden from the pooling water caught in uneven slabs. It clung to her figure.
A shroud that left her bitten arms bare to the cold.
Still she sweated.
Nerves gnawing at her guts, banked by a stalwart Caspian and an unsmiling Kieran, mist rained down on her head.
Damp hair began to curl into itself, to stick to her skin.
Several levels below, Toby, wielding a bullwhip, had her boy chained to a wall for all the Syndicate to see.
Crack.
She’d twitched at so loud a noise.
A tickle, he’d told her. Some blood for show.
Yet her boy was screaming, every cell in Wren shouting for her to kill all who stood between her and her child.
Crack.
So much blood. The ear-piercing screams of an innocent.
And she could not go to him… because those who had gathered had not come to this place to see a kid tortured. They had come to stare at her. The defeated Omega Caspian had bitten. The wild thing who had survived her Omega rampage and been cowed by their great leaders.
To see if she’d snap under pressure and entertain them once more with her death.
Crack.
The unbroken pinky finger of her left hand curled around the nearest living support. Wren took the hand of the man responsible for her boy’s torment, held it with all she could, because she could not bear this alone.
The intimate touch before his men… Caspian allowed it.
Just as he allowed her silent tears to run free, the convenient mist concealing every trace.
Crack.
Four strikes and Alec had lost the ability to stand, hanging from chained wrists like a broken doll.
Crack.
Voice grown hoarse, the boy’s screams no longer reached her ears. Though his shoulders shook with visible sobs.
Crack.
Lavender eyes turned away from the rivulets of blood running down the flesh of her beloved child. They settled on a muddy brown gaze.
Caspian, the arrogant and deceitful king, saw everything.
Unmitigated despair.
Crack.
Squeezing the tiny finger she had hooked to his palm, he offered. “It won’t kill him.”
And that justified this?
“The kid came to me. He took an oath when he joined, swore to forsake all family. That was his choice.”
Crack.
“Which means”—significance burned in that treacherous gaze—“that he is no longer your boy. He belongs to me.”
Always. Alec would always be her boy.
Even when he was old and gray. Even after her body had long since decomposed in the mud, Alec would be her boy.
Crack.
Love, she felt pure emotion even in that horrible moment. And Wren knew Caspian could feel it churning in her. And knew that the Alpha was well aware it was not for him.
Crack.
His eyes narrowed, a less than subtle reminder that this was her punishment too. A test that, should she fail, would be the end of more than just her life.
Alec who suffered. Mikael who healed. Both were nothing to him.
Crack.
That was why she’d been paraded before his slaves, his servants, his whores, and his Syndicate. An Omega. A woman he’d defeated at her most dangerous. Who he’d mounted in abject victory. Who he had marked in a frenzy of violence that would never leave her skin.
Crack.
Each lash might as well have been lain to her flesh.
“That’s enough!” Caspian’s voice boomed across the massive space. Loud enough that even a thousand gallons of rushing water could not drown out his bark. “Punishment has been served.”
Panting from the exertion of wielding the whip, Toby cut a glance over his shoulder. Then he turned, bare chest covered in a myriad of tattoos. He looked right to her.
The way her bones vibrated, Wren knew he called through their link, demanded that she give him her attention. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t lift her eyes away from the weight of Caspian’s stare.
She would never be able to look at Toby again.
“It could have been the kid’s hand. Remember that, pretty mouse, before you hold a grudge.” It wasn’t Caspian words that made her flinch, it was what was buried far beneath them—a hint of regret.
It was as if even a megalomaniac of his proportions had finally recognized that what he’d done had… eternal repercussions.
As if the thought had never occurred to him.
As if his unsettled feelings were foreign, uncomfortable.
What vibrated from him was too subtle to be called guilt, and too selfish to be culpability.
His concern was utterly selfish, the male bothered by the loss of something he’d never had to begin with.
As if to offer this recognized deficit that lingered between them, he spoke over her head. “Kieran, have the boy taken down and put somewhere dry.”
Her face was so warm, the splints binding her fingers creaking from the force she’d exerted gripping Caspian’s hand for support. Which had to be why her bones protested when she let go, her fingers slipping from Caspian’s grasp.
Chapter 8
“No.”
No?
Back in Caspian’s den and away from the eyes and ears of his men, Wren had wept. The ugly kind of sobs that left one rocking themselves and breathless.
Curled up in the corner, sopping wet from the waterworks downpour, her dress was no longer white.
Dingy, like the Alphas’ whole fucking hive, it suited her.
Stuck to her skin, marking the floor where she’d plopped down in a puddle, it gave her a barrier to shut out the males when she buried her face in her knees.
After she’d purged, hiccupped, and hated, silence stole over her thoughts.
Everything felt fuzzy, disconnected—as if she’d floated beyond reality and watched from a distance.
Toby’s hand on her shoulder, the very hand he’d used to wield the whip that had mutilated her boy, didn’t so much as make her flinch. She’d hardly felt it at all.
Whatever he muttered to her, was lost.
But she was not lost.
She was more than one terrible collection of days.
More than the brand on her face or the bite shaped scars on her skin.
She was a mother.
And unlike the little ones dead and buried in the mud outside her home, Alec and Mikael still lived. Would thrive.
She had to help assure it. Do whatever it took to make it all better.
Alec needed her now. He needed her collected and capable. He’d need her smiles and purrs.
He needed her medicine.
Yes! Pushing from the ground, Wren ignored the crouching male at her side and ran to the murdered doctor’s box. Rifling through the medications Toby had meticulously organized by day and hour, she knocked it all aside in search of the precious injection: a healing boost.
When her hands closed on the prefilled syringe, feeling rushed back. Holding it to her heart, excitement on her face, she’d turned to Caspian and shown him.
“No.”
<
br /> How could it be so simple to deny her child relief?
Yes.
“No.”
Holding it out to him, she crossed the room and went to her knees, prepared to beg… lick his boots if that’s what it took.
Radiating agitation, the brute fisted his hands into balls, and glared. He met her eyes and snarled, “I told you no.”
Wren tried to unfurl his fingers, to put the syringe in his hand. But he was too strong. So she set her cheek to his thigh and held to his leg as her shoulders shook.
“Mouse, you are angering me.”
There had to be some way to purchase mercy for her boy!
Clawing at his zipper, she pulled out a flaccid cock, feeding it into her mouth just like Rosie did. Tears streaking her face, she tried every trick she’d seen, and though he swelled, Caspian never got fully hard.
The shove that knocked her back onto the floor sent the syringe flying from her grip. Scrambling after it, Wren let out a cry when Kieran snapped it up in his hand. It was him she fell upon next, kneeling at his feet and holding onto his leg so that he could not kick her away.
No matter her debasement, the Second Alpha wouldn’t even look at her.
Aloof, staring forward, he ignored the silent begging and louder sobs. He even ignored her screams when Toby forcibly peeled her away. Kieran just walked out of the room, dismissing her completely.
Striking out at the Third, she shoved him off and stood before the pair of offenders as if she stood a chance at seeing them ripped apart. Panting, smoothing her hair and trying to catch her breath before she fell into a dangerous mental state, she shook, coughing up old phlegm that rattled its way out of her chest.
And could not pull herself together even enough to breathe properly.
Enraged, Caspian threw her box of medicines, roaring, “What more do you want from me? Never have I spared a hand!”
Pills spilled over the aging rugs, bottles broke.
Next he lifted her breathing treatment machine over his head, smashing it against the distant wall. Metal split at the seams, internal bits destroyed.
“You take all this crap and still you cough! I have to hear you wheeze while you sleep. I feed you a fortune in engineered foods. And you want to give what I provide to a traitor? He knew you’d sold your body to me and came begging for a place anyway!”
She didn’t care about the medicines or the machines. All she’d lived for had been those boys.
Wren growled… she hadn’t meant to, but the insulting noise had slipped out all the same.
Both Alphas froze.
Nearest her, Toby reeked of something far deeper than anger. That was nothing to the wave of fury emanating from the First Alpha across the room.
“GET OUT!”
Stepping between her and the rampaging First, Toby held her behind his back. “I’ll take her upstairs.”
Nostrils flaring, Caspian’s livid glare turned upon his Third. “Toss her back into the Warrens. Let her remember what life was like before I dragged her out of the mud.”
***
There was no fight left in her when Toby dragged her from the waterworks. None.
He wasn’t purring or sweet, but nor was he as rough as his anger signaled an infuriated Alpha should be. There were no words between them, only the singed buzz of an insubstantial link.
One that fluttered with… concern.
Nothing like the burn that twisted her guts from the male above. Even with Caspian far away and locked in his den—she could feel his tumultuous wrath. Feel how it was blended with desperate lust as he thought to slake such feelings on the body of another.
She could sense his confusion when the simple act of fucking was not enough to assuage the tempest.
And because both males and been arrogant enough to force a half-formed link on her, they sensed her total disgust. Her hatred. Her disappointment in their failings as men.
“You need to cool off for a few days.” Toby snarled between clenched teeth, openly angry with her. “Stay out of his reach before you push him to ruin what we have.”
His grip on her arm tightened, the Alpha marching her along like a child who needed to be put in the corner.
But he didn’t bruise. He didn’t yank.
Considering his anger, Toby was downright gentle.
He was even worried.
That did not change how he shoved her out of their building to land straight in the mud.
Knees scraped, the familiar squish of unsteady ground under her hands, Wren took in her first deep breath of outside air since she’d been taken.
It reeked of shit.
Cold air brushing naked arms, wet skirts icing in the cold, she picked herself up… and felt utterly alone.
The long walk home did nothing to ease her distress. Not when neighbors took one look at her and turned their backs.
Everyone knew who she now belonged to.
And reviled her for it.
Planks rocking under her bare feet, heart worn, she dragged her sorry bones all the way to her busted door.
No longer did she have a home. Mud had been tracked all over the floor, items cast aside and broken when looters deemed they held no value.
It was as if she’d never existed. Her life in this sorry den erased.
The scent of her boys did not even linger in the air, the smell of rot and mildew pervading each breath.
No wonder they had all been sick…
She was a terrible mother.
One of her boys lay in the hospital fighting his weak lungs for life. The other had been beaten bloody and left to hang before a gang of thugs.
And this room, this place that had been her home was so beneath what they deserved that her skin itched just standing in its walls.
So she left.
Walking around the sinking skyscraper she’d carved out a room in, she climbed over a fence made of scrap. Her skirt caught, tore, and left a lace trail that ran through soggy mud. She didn’t care. Not when she was so busy hating herself for ruining her boy’s chance at a better life.
Curling up in a place she had spent many of her worst hours, Wren shut her eyes and shrunk in her skin.
“He’s just a kid. A stupid one, but still.” It was the last person she expected to hear. Tawny hair falling in his eyes, Kieran stood over her. In his hand was an empty syringe.
Palm opening, it fell into the mud.
Turning to walk away, he snarled over his shoulder, “Tell anyone I gave it to him and I’ll kill you.”
Chapter 9
Wait!
He hadn't seen her hands sign the entreaty, ignored her pathetic throat sounds as she fought the mud to stand.
Rushing to catch Kieran before he slipped away, Wren threw her arms around his middle and held him with all her might.
He froze, stiff as stone under her arms, but he didn’t push her away. He didn’t slap her face or snarl.
The Second Alpha only stood there, as if unsure what to do.
Face pressed to his broad back, Wren breathed in the familiar scent of potent male—flooded with a burst of true gratitude and unadulterated appreciation.
Had she words, so much would have tripped from her lips. Had her fingers not been splinted, and had he the knowledge to understand her sign language, she would have told him that she would never forget his kindness to her boy.
“What are you doing?” This strained voice Wren did not even recognize.
Without allowing the awkwardly motionless male out of her grasp, Wren crept from his back to his front—so he might see her face, view her wide, glistening eyes.
All the filth she’d brought with her from the ground smeared his clothing, making it look as if he almost belonged in this dump. As if they were a matched set. And she should have apologized for ruining his clean things, but there was no way she would let him walk away without letting him know how much this meant to her.
Kieran didn’t seem to notice her filth, not when he stared down at her with a co
mplicated blend of emotions playing over his face.
Confusion dominated. Under it sat annoyance. Intrigue. Disbelief. Anger.
She needed him to understand. Ear to his heart, she hugged him not only in gratitude, but because holding someone in that moment lifted such a burden.
He had given her air when she was drowning.
He had saved her from the worst kind of self-doubt.
And he had comforted her boy, even if Alec never understood what had been injected into his veins.
Wren knew Kieran desired to leave. That he hated her. She’d even take his coming beating without so much as a cry of protest so long as she could silently display how she felt.
Just for this one moment where she knew her boy had been given a secret, precious gift. Where the man who had delivered it let her take comfort in him, even though he disliked her.
She took her moment with full enthusiasm, with a smile and the purr reserved for actual happiness.
When his grip came to her horribly tangled and mud spattered hair, she didn’t resist. Scalp tingling from the pressure, from the strength of his grip, she was made to lift her head.
The face looking down at her was a stranger’s.
He moved so quickly she’d barely had time to draw breath. One moment she’d been hugging the villain who’d taken pity on her child, the next she was slammed against the sagging wall of her building.
By him.
Because he was kissing her as if he’d die without another taste.
Kieran, who never kissed when he fucked her.
Startled, her purr stumbled into a whimper. He swallowed it, the entirety of his body pressed against her slight frame in the dark.
The noises coming from him were desperate, the force of his body rubbing against hers imprinting the wall into her skin.
And then a second later he was off of her, panting, green eyes burning as if she had done him harm.
Chest heaving, knowing she looked utterly befuddled, Wren kept herself painted against the wall.
The male pacing before her, the one manically running his hands through tousled tawny hair, was a stranger.
You hate me.
