by Dakila Reed
He blithely walked, face down into a frozen web page on his phone screen. He reached the parking lot in no time with the mist clinging to the fiber of his clothes. Seeing the gray third-hand truck one of his faceless informants called Allen left for him, he gaped.
“What in the fucking hell…”
It looked even more hideous in person than it did in the photos. He never doubted though its ability to drive through a possible blizzard. Allen did great in making the monstrosity look pathetic.
He pulled a few coins from his jeans and purposely dropped them to the ground.
“Damn coins!” Wayne groaned as he crouched low, extending his hand underneath the truck where he made a patting motion. He felt for the tires, slipping his fingers through the rim and feeling the barrel. Something small and cold grazed his finger tips. He traced it fast, felt for the electrical tape before ripping it off. Truck’s key now in his hand, he used it to open the truck and get in with ease. A few seconds later, his grueling journey to the back ends of the earth finally began.
What greeted Wayne after entering the sin district was a pile of snow on the side of the roads, and a quiet in the streets he didn’t expect. The surroundings felt subdued enough. Serene but uncomfortable. As if daring, threatening to break the peace— one Wayne knew couldn’t be any more superficial— would be returned with a malicious vengeance.
As he drove, he observed the steady stream of foot traffic. Men. Most were men. Some were shifter alphas, betas. No omegas could be seen. Wayne swallowed a growl to sense even humans. Shifters from other nonmembers of Allied Districts flocked the streets. They were the customers making Sierra Via thrive in their ‘specialty’.
Clearly, the AD still had too much work to do. Tremendous work. This was just one nonmember district. What else horrors were there in the others?
He gripped his steering wheel when he noticed an old man, obviously a powerful alpha back in his days stand under a waiting shed, his eyes blank and somehow sad. Wayne had to strain his eyes away from the weary expression of the old alpha and continue driving. His chest swirling with unfathomable anger. An anger rivaled by the mounting questions in his head.
Sierra Via was a small district its population comprised by shifters. In this tiny expanse, surely not all had the mindsets of a rock? Surely one wouldn’t have the stomach to sell their females like regular meat? Surely not all was happy about the obvious disparity in this corner of the continent? They couldn’t be all heartless. So why?
Wayne drew long breaths and continued driving into the heart of the district. It was like getting inside a movie when all the shows had been in hues of sepia. A freaking time travel at its rarest. Sierra Via was so closed in from the outside world that nothing much had changed since the last century. Trams from 1900s wormed all over the district. Buildings made from stones lined the wide roads. Silhouettes of hibernating trees mingled with the shadows. He wouldn’t be surprised at all if people here used oil lamps and feather pens and ground their inks. The lines of electrical posts and the parade of expensive latest car models though shattered the illusion.
Wayne glanced at the dashboard. In the dimness of the road, little snows cresting and piling against establishments’ windows, he whistled. It was just three. In the afternoon. This darkness would take him time to adjust. He could still feel the traces of warm golden light against his skin from Sierra Nadre. He found himself lifting his hand and reaching, feeling for his Celtic sun stud. Already, he missed the sun.
He approached his destination with his jaws working, his muscles taut against his skin. The gargantuan red brick mansion was in contrast with the foggy whiteness. The huge white-framed windows, its wide foyers and delicate columns. The deep blue slate roof glittered with the snow accumulating on its perfect edges. The place was daunting. Hauntingly beautiful. And what silent pleas, voiceless cries echoing inside made this gilded cage all the more maddening.
He pulled off at the space where a sign on a huge brass placard said ‘EMPLOYEES’ and parked with ease. All cameras were hidden in spots untrained eyes wouldn’t notice. Guards positioned in tactical places watched and observed his arrival. He killed off the engine, felt for the leather of the wheel where his fingers began to dig. He closed his eyes and took three long deep breaths.
When he opened his eyes, they mirrored the snow that his truck’s tires have sullied. Menacing gray, unfeeling, and cold.
Starting that second, Regem Wayne in Sierra Via was Rey Ford.
* * * *
It was all a meticulous and monotonous process of being briefed of what his job entails— all of which were things already emailed to him in bold letters beforehand. Nevertheless, he followed the skinhead, bronze-skinned and massive tank of a man called Gordon, without a single word, going through the motions as what was expected of him.
After passing deserted and gloomy windowless hallways and memorizing every turn in this maze made of stone, the other stopped short in front of an elevator. The mesh of old and modern facilities inside The Prey Ground still was disarming. At one point, one would think they were traversing back in time. Then these little additions like the glaring cameras, elevators and obvious centralized heating system would cut the picture. Wayne followed inside, his hands inside his jeans. He watched the other’s scarred finger stab number ‘three’. Wayne’s raised brow registered into the frosted reflections of the closed doors.
“I’m pretty sure my floor assignment is on the first.”
Gordon grunted. “We need a sudden replacement on the third.”
Wayne made a catcall. “Wow, first day and I got a promotion right away. I already like this place.”
Gordon snorted, stepping out first when the doors opened wide. Following, Wayne absorbed the drastic change in the atmosphere. It nearly knocked him off balance. Silent as it was, the scent in the air made him ball his fists. He schooled his features, telling himself he couldn’t show he was affected. The stone floors smelled of antiseptic. Sweet scents from all locked up omegas lingered with the smell of cleaning detergent, perfume, and a stale rottenness that Wayne couldn’t quite put a finger on. Like the captives’ distress took a physical manifestation and it was now clinging to the very structure of the walls, stagnant in the air in this very floor. All gray steel doors were locked. For a place with hundreds of guards, they passed none.
“So what happened to the guy I’m replacing?” Wayne asked casually as they trudged the seemingly endless hallway. Gilded lamps casting muted yellow light to their steps.
“Dead.”
“Nice.”
“Let’s say Bayson was the manager’s guard. And the manager woke up on the wrong side of the bed and felt like thoroughly bashing heads. That’s why your assignment is moved up here.”
“The manager?” Wayne asked carefully. Surely it wasn’t all that easy to get close to that guy. He wasn’t all elated at his luck. He didn’t believe in them and most times, he end up getting into deep shits. “I’m guarding the manager?”
Gordon stopped at one particular door, puffed his chest forward and tilted his head as if challenging him to question the new arrangement. Wayne returned the gaze coldly with his own. He’d stared through the eyes of death many times to even flinch at one mere glare. After a few seconds, Gordon relaxed his shoulders and nodded albeit hesitantly. Wayne must have passed another of those surprise tests so it seemed. Gordon muttered under his breath, knocked once and pushed the door open.
* * * *
Wayne found it hard to breathe. He'd thought he'd already seen hell. But this frozen, moldy cage they called a room— a pigsty would have been cleaner— was practically worse. He could feel bile rise to the back of his throat. Seeing dead bodies did nothing for him. His stomach was made for it. But humans, helpless omegas, whether they be male or female in this state, so deprived of dignity was beyond his imagination.
Who said Hell was a burning place? He huffed at the thought meanwhile schooling his expression as blank, unaffected, robotic. He was
obviously, completely and stupidly wrong. He wasn’t as prepared as he thought himself to be.
That man was all wrong. That angelic face. That slim runner’s build. That very fucking sweet scent his eyes nearly rolled at the back of his head. That cock-sucking mouth in a smug grin. That frail, supposedly fragile body of an omega shouldn't be standing there in a filthy cell, whipping another omega nonstop. That goddamn man in a deceiving shell jeered as sweat splattered on the floor and on the walls, the victim choking with her own tears.
There at one corner of the room was the manager of The Prey Ground; Liam Bridges— the fucking contradictory incarnate.
The whipping sound continued, leather to skin. Skin to the floor. The woman on the receiving end couldn’t even cry out for her overlapping pain.
“Sir,” Gordon called. When Liam didn’t even glance their way, Gordon remained passive and continued, “Your guard replacement is here.”
All the sound of whipping stopped. In the sudden silence except from the poor woman's whimpers, her broken back screaming silently, crying red down the curves of her back, Liam’s intake of breath was of utter satisfaction. The glint in his eyes showed he was rather pleased with the abstract of welts on the woman’s back.
"When your customer asks you to please him, you open yourself eagerly and be the slut you're meant to be." The male omega's voice sounded rich and equally eerie as it bounced off the concrete and ruddy walls. It lacked compassion. It lacked heart. All it had was a hint of evil amusement Wayne had never seen or felt from an omega. "You spread your legs or whatever they ask of you because that's your job.” He paused and sneered, “That’s. Your. Sole. Purpose.”
Wayne could hear his molars grinding, holding on to every bit of patience and control within his body. Right then and there he wanted to fly across the room and stand before the female omega. Save her, protect her, rescue her. After all, it was his job above all else. He could do it. But at the expense of his real mission.
Fuck it.
This was why undercover jobs suck. He was used to the no nonsense direct ways of handling things. Enter, injure or kill, save. As simple as that.
Wayne balled his fists. With no outlet for this frustration, he was going to burst. He was hellbent, barely hanging to a hair strand.
And then the slap of leather to skin cut through to his thoughts. His gaze zeroed in at the male omega in that very room. His initial vision that was blurry and hazy now had a focus. A mark. How can that sweet face contort in a demeaning and evil shade, any trace of softness gone? How can that damned male omega talk to his kind as if he was superior over them?
"I'm sorry," the female omega whimpered, cradling her broken arm like it was her baby. "I'm so sorry," she hiccuped some more, backing to the wall obviously seeking for a shield. "Please tell the master sorry. Please don't dispose me..."
The fucking devil snorted, taking slow menacing steps to the broken female. The male omega threw the whip on the floor, his lips in a disgusted snarl as he leaned down. Face to face with the broken woman he said, "This is the last warning. You'll behave. You'll bend over, spread wide or gag— whatever the hell they want from you— or else." He straightened up. "I don't need to tell you what we do to useless omegas, do I?"
The woman nodded fervently. She was obviously just three seconds away from throwing herself on the floor and worshiping the devil in front of her for the extension of her life. A life that should have been fulfilling, free and full of promise. Not this kind of life. Nobody deserved this.
Seemingly satisfied, Liam smiled. A smile so beautiful it was hauntingly frustrating. Anyone would be bewitched, if they didn’t know why such a satisfied curl on those full lips exist.
Wayne felt his gut clench the minute eyes the color of warm whiskey landed on him. They were so much more intense than in the picture. Almost like they could see right through someone’s brains. Those eyes though didn’t even spare him a glance. Liam was eyeing Gordon.
“I’m done with her. She should be well behaved after this warning,” he said, throwing another disgusted glare at the woman. “Take her away. Bath her and feed her. She’d know that if she refused to eat again, I’ll shove the food down her throat.”
Gordon released a sigh that could have been a curse, annoyance, or both. Perhaps this kind of order wasn’t in Gordon’s job detail being the Chief Security that he was. That or he was royally pissed about something else. The skinhead went to the naked woman nevertheless and hauled her with big rough hands. They crossed the room with only the woman’s barely audible pained whimpers before the doors closed once again, leaving Wayne alone with Liam in a distracting silence.
He watched the male omega inspect his finger nails. Liam’s amber eyes narrowed. The man gave a loud sigh, annoyed at the dirt wedged at the corners.
"You're the new guard? What’s your name?" the male omega asked, looking up at Wayne.
Liam was tall. Though not still tall enough to be on eye level with Wayne. It didn’t diminish though the feeling of something big, something threatening in the omega’s stance. It was… disconcerting.
“Do you want me to call you ‘dog’? I asked for your name.”
Up until that point, Wayne had been like a wall— all silent mouth and unseeing eyes. He couldn’t let his surprise rise any more than the lapsed second he blanked caught off guard at Liam’s intensity. He coolly met the male omega's gaze and against all his fraying nerves, nodded. He was slipping from his cover and he needed to jump right back.
"The name’s Rey Ford. Just got assigned here about seven minutes ago."
"Hmmm," the male omega's eyes narrowed into slits. "Quite the leap you made there. New guards aren't supposed to be working here inside the chambers, much less guarding me.”
Wayne made a nonchalant shrug, his lips curling at the corners. "Maybe I sent a stellar resume."
"Well I hope it’s not just a useless list. Don't end up being all muscle and dick like the last one,” Liam said as he eyed Wayne up and down lazily. As if sizing dirt would have been better. “I don't like reminding stupid people. Remember all the things in your job description. Including what and what you can't do around here. My last guard here mounted a virgin omega, we’re saving her for an auction that stupid useless dickhead. If you end to be all so pent up and eager to fuck, buy yourself one. Guards can buy from our long roster, we're not that strict.”
Wayne took a step forward, closing the distance between him and the manager. He leaned down, just above Liam’s shoulder and made an exaggerated sniff. He stepped back with an eat-shitting grin. “Guards too can buy an omega from the roster? Any omega?”
Liam didn’t even bat an eyelash. “Any.”
He narrowed his eyes at Liam’s frame clad in a white dress shirt dotted with sweat, his and the female omega’s. His sleeves rolled to his elbows. Slim-fitting dark jeans that made him much lither, more graceful. He eyed Liam’s body up and down lasciviously. Something that Wayne would never dare do at anyone under normal circumstances.
“Even you?”
“Yes. Even me,” Liam replied in a sneer. “But I doubt you can afford me.”
The woman was screaming. Her cries full of pleading for something that wasn't going to happen. Not sooner and maybe never even later. Freedom. It was a futile dream here so it seemed. Although once in a while, when one soul cracked another step down to insanity, those final bursts of strength, anger, and voice emerge.
Wayne matched the pace Liam was making. The man was three paces ahead of him. In here, that was Wayne's place, the number one in his job description. A shadow. A hidden strength for when things get out of hand.
Yet as he watched the male omega's ramrod back, the man's brisk steps, and the very anger emanating from the man's very skin, Wayne was beginning to think that he wasn't there to guard Liam Bridges. As funny as it may appear, maybe he was there to guard everyone from Liam.
Their footsteps were a resounding echo into the walls mingling with that random female’s shrilly
voice. Around that sound were equally enraged growls. Threats that Wayne knew were not empty.
In front of a partially opened door, Liam went into a halt. He slammed the door wide open so hard that the bounce of the steel door put a crack against the brick walls.
Wayne scanned the room. Three guards with ugly, amused faces. One dangerous thorn looming over the only rose as though his bulk wasn't intimidating enough. The guard’s chest was rumbling, anger evident. The rose on the floor was shaking like a withered leaf. Wayne gritted his teeth as he planted himself right where he stood. He was never going to get used to just watching, pretending that he didn't care.
The woman's almost naked form, her ankles held by heavy chains, her begging for something she shouldn't have to... all of those were unacceptable.
But then, nothing in this place was not unacceptable.
"Please! I don't want this anymore! Let me go! Let me go!"
The looming man stepped even closer, grabbing a fistful of the woman's brown curls. She yelped. The strain and strength in that hold so obvious her eyes slanted from the pull of her scalp. Her skin forced backwards.
"Bitch!" the guard snarled, his other arm poised in the air. "SHUT. THE. FUCK. UP!"
One moment Liam was standing right ahead of Wayne. In the next breath, Liam was beside the alpha guard, his hand clamping hard down the man's beefy arm.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Liam asked, coldly.
The guard bared his teeth, his face inches apart from Liam's. It made Wayne step forward reflexively.
"Let her go," Liam hissed.
For a moment, the room was filled with another form of fury. An anger directed only at Liam.
"And what are you gonna do? Huh?" the guard spat as he pulled his arm off where Liam’s fingers dug deeply. The man's brown skin was marred with deep, red crescent-moon marks. "This bitch started screaming in the viewing room. She broke five bottles of wine that her client is supposed to be enjoying by now. This very bitch caused us a few thousand dollars plus a free service for the stupidity she caused. And I had to pay a fine because apparently, I wasn't doing my job of restraining her properly!"