Born Captive

by Penelope Woods

  And the children… what were he and the pack supposed to teach them? They would open their eyes to a world worse than it was today. Everything would come undone for them.

  The snake’s thirst isn’t endless. It does run out, and when it does, it retreats into a pit of fire.

  But there was the girl to think about. He… felt for her. Whatever that meant, he didn’t know. Would it last?

  The hours passed, and Vash struggled to keep his mind intact. When the boat slowed, he was considerably weak from seasickness. Moving to the bow of the cargo ship, he climbed to the top and quickly felt the pouring rain soak his body and face.

  Immediately, he was met with searching hands, concentrated blows, and degradation. Surrounded by alphas, he was beaten and taken into the facility.

  They bound his wrists, blackened his eyes until they were a mess of risen flesh. They swabbed his cavities clean. Vash didn’t ask questions or even fight back. He took every ounce of torture they had until they brought him into a solitary room.

  “In.”

  They threw him inside the dark room, cackling as they locked the door.

  Blackness.

  So, this was his fate. Locked away to die.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “She’s gone.”

  Heart beating against bone, pumping adrenaline and cortisol. Fear.

  “She’s fucking gone!”

  The shock brought Lucas an absurd amount of rage and vulnerability. Scouring the house, there was no trace of her. The gun was missing.

  Killian woke and rolled to the spot where Wren slept. The absence left him cornered and apelike, eyes frantically threading together every possibility.

  She’d warned them. Given them all the hints that she would leave. Now, she had, and she would die if they didn’t find her.

  “Vash,” Killian hissed.

  “Now do you agree? We shouldn’t have come with him,” Lucas said.

  “No way to back out now.”

  They could hear the whistle of electricity coming from the city. The faint drum of bullets ricocheting off of mortar and flesh sent shivers up their spines. The wars were picking up steam.

  “Fucking bitch,” Lucas grunted.

  They stood with no leader, no identifiable pack, and no future. “Where do you think she went?”

  “Somewhere we’re not welcome,” Killian said.

  “Omega Unlimited,” Lucas muttered, shaking his head. “She doesn’t know what she’s gotten herself into.”

  Killian suited up and grabbed a spare rifle. He threaded the bullets into the magazine. When the tight springs wouldn’t budge, he breathed easier. “We’re going in there,” he said, grimly.

  Lucas picked up Wren’s leash and squeezed around the rounded chains. So far, none of what they planned had come to fruition. As far as they were concerned, Cassian had only grown stronger and more aware of their plans, the cunning snake that he was.

  “He planned for this,” Lucas said, lost in thought.

  “Cassian?” Killian asked.

  The light from the sun was now dissolving through the windows of the home, and Lucas felt ready to burn into a ball of flame. His entire life had led to critical moments where he chose to face the barrel of another’s gun. The chance of death electrified him at times. Always, a voice inside of him reminded him of all he went through.

  He was a fighter. A soldier. Killian too. Vash, not so much. Vash was a leader—there was a difference.

  As soon as Lucas’s parents were ripped from his arms, he became a natural-born killer. Revenge was always around the corner, just barely out of reach.

  “I’ll be satisfied when I impale Cassian’s skull with my cock,” he said.

  Killian grinned and ran his fingers against his coarse scruff. “Be careful what you wish for.”

  When they were ready, they looked through the empty hallway of the home. Suddenly, a cold wash of nostalgia washed over Lucas. He kept asking himself the same question over and over again:

  What will I become after the world ends?

  And the babies Wren held inside her belly… Everything in their life was fragile like an antique snow globe.

  “Let’s never come back to this place again,” Lucas muttered.

  “Deal.”

  The horror that mankind was willing to create seized on their hearts. A vileness like the pounding of clay before it slides on the wheel. It lay dormant in all alphas, and they used to believe that it made the world go round.

  As they set out for the city, they chose not to look back at the house they molded from their nightmares.

  Wren had changed them, whether they liked it or not. They would never be the same again.

  Squinting into the dirty sunset, Killian breathed in the air and tried to remember her scent. Lucas smacked his shoulder and moved through the sea of street vendors, rumbling motorbikes, and sex-crazed alphas looking for a good time.

  “How does it feel to be the most wanted man in the world?” Lucas asked.

  Killian smirked. “You tell me.”

  Lucas analyzed every face that walked past him. He was worried. There were alphas everywhere, and he was sure they’d run into a familiar face if they kept on this street. “Too many fucking people tonight,” Lucas said nervously.

  As the rounded corner, he could see a parade forming. In the distance, alphas shot rifles into the air. Their faces were stained with the crude Ouroboros insignia written in blood. Their tongues searching the air outside their lips, they cackled and raged as the gathering crowd howled with religious fervor.

  Killian held his rifle underneath his jacket, fingers shuddering against the trigger. “If I knew it was going to be a holiday...”

  A large platform with bundled omegas slowly drove toward their path. Twine and threading held their bodies together. Their eyes scanned the beckoning crowd in shock. Above them, the Ouroboros was displayed with pride.

  “Give them bread and circuses.”

  The performing alphas, most likely slave workers from the outer sectors, threw buckets of chips into the crowd. The horde of ogres leapt over the backs of one another until a massive brawl broke out.

  “They got one thing right. But where the fuck is my bread?” Lucas asked in jest.

  “Vash would have our heads for coming back into the city like this,” Killian said.

  But Vash was gone, and the idea of him dead or locked away made them feel uneasy. Worst of all, they had no way of knowing if they were walking into a trap.

  The parade thickened, and hydrochips graced their heads. Killian elbowed through two civilians, but he was met with multiple swift blows to the nose. He fell back and made sure to hold Lucas with him.

  Blood ran from Killian’s inflamed nostril. “Don’t,” he shouted.

  But the mob of people only grew, and it became impossible to see where they were. Flashing lights, frantic movements, and throaty cries from exasperated bellies circled them. The men on the platforms unleashed their fury into the sky with a rain of bullets.

  Lucas clasped his hands over his eyes and shook his head to get some grounding.

  “Look up!”

  The lights of the city shut off with a crack. Killian grabbed Lucas’s jacket before he could focus his eyes on what appeared to be, falling gift-wrapped presents.

  “What the fuck?” Lucas whispered as Killian pulled him toward a clearing.

  One by one, the gifts opened to exploding shrapnel. Waves of men fell to the floor, choking on bits of blood and rust, gasping for air. Within seconds, the parade had turned into a bloodbath of ruined lives.

  The crowd erupted with relentless force. Irregular alphas with hardware-lined faces ziplined in from the terraces. Computerized scanning systems reddened the pupils of their left eyes. Behind them, omegas wielded combat rifles. They had been trained. Every single one of them.

  “Who are they?” Lucas whispered.

  “I don’t want to find out,” Killian muttered.

  Tripping over th
eir feet, they ran toward the hazy lights of the nightclub. But when they arrived, the building was a searing pile of rubble. Everywhere they turned, death clung to the earth like an impossible stain.

  Before they could react, a series of bombs in the city sent tremors through the asphalt. They watched in silence as half of the metropolis fell into a torrent of flame. The smell of burning human flesh wafted into their noses, but it was the screams of panic that their senses focused on first.

  Lucas held his breath and stood listening. Finally, as if it were planned, the defense sirens spread the tones of chaos.

  Lucas ran through the decimated club, and Killian soon followed. Wren was everywhere. Her head, limbs, body fragments… everywhere.

  “Copies?” Lucas asked.

  Killian carefully kneeled his head down and took hold of the soppy clump of hair from a dismembered head. The eyes were angled oddly. “Copies.”

  Lucas swallowed and looked through the steel wiring that held half of the building up. The Ouroboros had started to fire back. The city was a warzone.

  “There’s no way out of the city. We’re trapped,” Lucas said.

  Killian stood and clutched his rifle close to his chest. “We’re soldiers,” he said. “If we die tonight, we’ll be better off for it.”

  “You saw those people… are they from the southern regions?” Lucas asked.

  “The Republic,” he said.

  “No fucking way,” Lucas muttered.

  “Time to start believing. Right now is our chance to help out,” he said. “We use this as an opportunity. Let’s go.”

  Walking outside the demolished building, Lucas felt the crunch of glass beneath his boots. He inhaled the smoky scent of death and gritted his teeth. It had been so long since he punished and killed. At least this time, he had an excuse.

  Lucas followed as Killian ran into the chaotic streets. Bullets fell like rain, puckering the surface of the weathered buildings behind them. Feet carrying them to safety, they fired into the oblivion of smoke and motionless, screaming humans.

  Step by step, they ran onto the train platform, abruptly stopping when they reached the last step. The platform was quiet and empty, and the roof muffled the cracks of firing from above.

  “Okay, okay, okay,” Lucas whispered to himself, bouncing on the edges of his heels. “Where are we going?”

  Killian panted and winced in pain. Reaching around his triceps, he felt the torn tissue and trickling blood. Another bomb exploded, sending the exit of the station tumbling into the pipes below.

  “The barracks,” Killian muttered and held his hand up to block the debris.

  Lucas threw off his pack and dove to the floor when he noticed the wound. “You’re hit.”

  “Don’t fucking worry about it,” Killian grunted.

  Digging through his bag, Lucas pulled out a first aid kit. Fumbling at the edges of the case, he opened it and pulled out a small syringe. “We have to get the bullet out and cauterize the wound,” he said. “Trust me, you’ll thank me later.”

  “Like hell, I will,” he said.

  Overhead, the sound of helicopters rang out. Both of them looked toward the outside to see a set of figures slowly enclose around them. A blinding light cast before their eyes.

  A firm and commanding voice reverberated against the walls of the platform. “Put down your weapons.”

  Lucas sighed. With the weight of the world on his shoulders, he sank into a pit of despair. They had lost.

  A woman walked forward. It was Wren.

  Chapter Twenty

  “I… felt you,” she whispered, fear trickling into the casing of her spine. “How?”

  A wicked grin formed on Cassian’s face. In his hand was a rose. Delicately, he plucked the petals, letting them fall near his boots. The center of the bulb was tightly enclosed, but he broke it with his index finger. He stepped forward, reaching out his weathered palm to feel her soft and silky skin.

  “Another memory implant. You knew exactly where to end up.”

  As soon as the flat of his skin touched her cheekbone, she shuddered. He repulsed her.

  “We are connected,” he said.

  Tears formed in her eyes. Salt stung each minute nerve. Life was a cruel joke. No. It wasn’t a joke at all. It was just cruel. Punishment for punishment’s sake. If God existed, he was a sadist, but she doubted he was an alpha.

  “Yes. A version of you,” she whispered.

  Unable to look at his horrid face, Wren peered over her shoulder at the dancing women. They were just like her, but they lacked an important detail: her imagination.

  They were props, moving manikins incapable of threading together any real thought. “I hate this place,” she said. “Why did you bring me here?”

  “You deserve to be back with your kind.”

  Wren could see the hunger in Cassian’s cruel eyes. He could no longer help himself. As she came closer to him through the darkness, her pregnant belly prodded the light, coercing his mind to feel the worst. He could finally touch her now, and when he did, he met her with a harsh smack.

  Wren crumpled to the floor like a dirty pile of laundry. Stepping over her, he lifted by the hem of her shirt. “You don’t get a say in what you like or don’t like, whore.”

  Wren spat against the dark floor and grunted. Wiping her face, she could see the faint hue of red gleam against the cold neon. Suddenly, Wren felt the hot flash of anger consume her. His scarred face loomed like a spirit phantom. All of her memories, all of the programming he gave her… he’d ruined her.

  “It wasn’t my fault you let them take me,” she said. “You let them sneak into my room. You let them steal my purity.”

  Once more, Cassian hammered his fist. Bone and muscle cracked Wren’s cartilage. Her nose ran like a faucet, hot enough to leave her gasping for air and quick healing. Begging.

  Wren coughed and fell into the wave of abuse. Each blow she took was worse than the last. But she had been prepared for this. An alpha’s brutality had to be mastered with experience. Wren had all the experience a woman needed.

  Panting and croaking like a gnarled beast, Cassian adjusted the wrinkles of his heavy outerwear. “Next time, I’ll crush your stomach. Have you had enough?”

  Wren refused to nod. She’d known he would react like this, knew he would beat her until she was silent. She also knew he’d try to kill her once she said the last of what she needed to say. How he reacted after interested her the most.

  “You let them do it…” she whispered.

  Cassian leaned his head down until he was hovering against the top of her spinal column. “Say it again.”

  She wouldn’t. He heard it, and now she would wait for it to sink in. When his pupils tightened, he clenched his sore and dripping fists.

  “And I enjoyed every minute of it,” she said.

  The words shot into the pit of his stomach. Feeling the cuck spread throughout his central nervous system, Cassian started to weep. Strangely, the tears subsided into the back of his throat, gargling through wretched shrieks of historical pain.

  Life had cucked him.

  “No!” Cassian swayed his head. Every poor choice that he had made… all of his failures… they fed into his fragile state. “You… you!”

  For a moment, Cassian could picture her untainted body. Thin and vigorous. The spitting image of beauty. She would never be that again. She gave those traitors her fruit, and that couldn’t be forgiven.

  He threaded his fingers through his thinning hair, fastening onto the contorted stems and pulling. Words fell from his mouth like electric thunder, but the sentence structure had eroded to the basics.

  “Why… mother… can’t control… failure… I’m sorry… I am sorry.”

  Weaning against the dark floor, Wren pulled her heavy body toward Cassian. She fought through the intense bodily ache. Despite her cracked features, she pushed herself onto her knees and leaned her face close to his.

  Curiously, Cassian did not beat her. H
e lifted his eyes and watched in solitary horror. Surely, he had never seen an omega behave in such a way, and he certainly didn’t react with confidence.

  Closing her eyes, Wren widened her nostrils. Hovering over his clammy hide, she scented him. The smell of his unkempt body nauseated her, but the feeling of control elated her.

  “You dumb brute,” she said. “You’ve had me this whole time.”

  Cassian clenched his teeth. They started to chatter. There was something different about him. He looked vulnerable. Stroking his hair back, gently, Wren whispered, “There, there. It’s okay now. I will take care of you.”

  Cassian’s forehead dropped against hers with a dull thud. More tears fell from his irritated eyes. “I can’t stop this madness,” he wept and shook terribly as if suffering from a heavy flu or bout of insanity.

  Wren’s throbbing mess of a face made no difference. Though she was covered in the splatter of her own blood, she allowed herself to remain quite composed.

  “It was my fault that you hit me,” she said. “I spoke out of line.”

  Cassian’s tears dried up instantly. Issuing a fake sniff of snot, the man revealed a hidden smirk. “You… like this… it’s beyond horrible.”

  Wren could see the flash of lunacy in the movement and rash twitching of his facial features. She wasn’t sure how much longer he would stay docile, so she quickly took his hand and squeezed.

  “I want you,” she whispered.

  His foul breath hung between their lips. Cassian tugged his hand away from hers, but she gripped him tighter. “I will take you now.”

  “No,” she whispered, looking back at the copies. “Not with them watching.”

  “They don’t mean anything to me,” he said, reaching for his weapon to prove it.

  Wren stopped him. “You wish to spread them throughout the world. Do you not?” Wren asked.

  “When the coding is correctly synthesized, we can have the family we’ve deserved,” he said.

  Wren sneered, albeit only slightly enough for Cassian to see. Glancing down at his hardly erect shaft, it all seemed to hit her. So obvious was the truth that she never came to think of it during the times she wondered about her creator.