by Dakila Reed
The first things that Wayne saw were little girls quietly sitting at one corner. It was in their gazes fixed at the floor as though they were reliving something dark that tugged at Wayne. Some younger girls in tiny dresses were busy maiming dolls. Innocent little omega females not more than ten years old. Wayne held his lunch back at the back of his throat.
One man in blue scrubs waved at Liam animatedly. Liam motioned for the dark-blue counter with little stickers and the two began talking. Wayne almost failed to realize what the man was saying into Liam’s ear. But it was hard to ignore a conversation when it was so vile and disgusting a topic.
“So the three girls have been selected?” Liam said coldly. “Are they all clear of their flu Darwin? The last time, they’re infected and we don’t want to risk them spreading the virus in the main house.”
Darwin with his small eyes grinned and waved in the air. “Nah. The girls are all healed. They’re ready for training.”
Liam nodded, tapping his fingers against the dark, shining marble counter where behind Darwin was standing. “Send their names into my email, along with their personal details. How are the twins?”
“Same pain as usual,” Darwin said dismissively. “Crying for their dead mamas.”
Liam snorted. “Three-year-olds would do that.”
Wayne could only glare hard at the back of Liam’s head. Of all the things… this was the fucking worst. The Prey Ground was raising kids. For its dirty business.
A little giggle brought Wayne’s gaze back into the room. He couldn’t almost look at the kids. He was afraid to see their eyes. He was afraid to see their innocence knowing that they had no idea what these assholes had in store for them. He fisted his hands tightly to his side, finding himself looking back at Liam’s expressionless profile. The man had left the counter where Darwin was and was now standing just outside the white pen of young omega girls.
One kid caught Wayne’s attention. So tiny, wrapped in a pale blue knitted sweater, brown curls, and bright large blue eyes stared up at Wayne. It was a boy, no more than five years old. The sole male omega inside the pen. The kid’s cheeks had a healthy flush. He looked… oddly happy. Maybe because this boy, and the rest of the kids here don’t yet understand. And it was breaking Wayne’s heart.
The boy gave Wayne a shy smile before running excitedly to Liam who was just standing with a stone-cold face. The boy tugged at Liam’s hand and for a moment, Wayne feared this heartless bastard would shove the kid away. It shocked Wayne to see Liam actually crouching and listening to whatever the little boy had to say.
With his little hands he shoved the huge picture book at Liam’s face. Happily, he declared, “I’m finished!”
Wayne narrowed his eyes at the book’s cover as he approached a bit closer to Liam. The book had a grinning tabby cat with a red cape around it while standing triumphantly over a turned-over blue train.
“You did?” Liam asked. The soft tone in his voice was somewhat disarming. “And do you want to be like the cat hero in the book?”
The boy chewed on his lower lip before pulling the book close to his chest. “No. The cat hero is really good but I don’t want to be like him.”
“Who do you want to be?”
“I want to be like you Liam,” the boy replied, his cheeks even growing redder.
Liam opened his mouth. Then he closed them and just ruffled the boy’s brown curls. “Silly kid. You’re supposed to follow heroes.”
The boy just smiled widely, basking at Liam’s attention. The kid was obviously craving for that parental touch. A sweet, calming, warming touch that was supposed to be coming from the boy’s parents. Wayne swallowed his growl. One of these days Liam would probably send this innocent kid to some man with perverse kinks for a child.
The remaining rounds that Liam did, passed by Wayne like an unwanted show. He was lost in his own thoughts. The reminder of those large eyes. Those trusting faces. And the ones who were obviously traumatized by something horrible, all went into a mesh of horror that Wayne could only imagine. Wayne just found himself suddenly… tired. This was the most draining.
In the darkness, Wayne caught Liam’s straight, still dignified stance as they began their walk back to The Prey Ground. Little puffs of snow danced in the air, before adding to the pile on the bridge’s railing. Liam was walking so much slower. The man even started scooping snow off the brick railing with his fingers before letting it slide.
“What do you think of Laurent?” Liam asked out of nowhere.
“Laurent?”
“The boy who said he wanted to be like me.”
Wayne scathingly said, “I sure as hell wanted to tell him no.”
For some reason, Liam burst out laughing. The man had to hold on to the freezing railing, bracing his weight as he tried to smother his laughter. Eventually he calmed down, tucked his wet hands into the pocket of his coat. “But don’t you think it’s just natural for the kid to want to become like their father?”
Stunned, Wayne stopped walking. Liam turned to face him, a quiet burn in those amber eyes.
“It’s not a secret around here that Laurent’s my son. He’s cute, isn’t he? He takes his other dad’s brown hair and blue eyes. But he got the rest of my genes.”
“Your son?” Wayne croaked. Like someone had just stabbed him from front to back and twisted the knife around. He couldn’t understand. It was… too much.
As if Liam saw through Wayne’s mind, Liam raised a brow. “Is it so hard to believe I have conceived a son? Or is it harder to take that I used to live happily with my fated alpha?”
Both. Wayne was still too stunned to react. Male omegas don’t conceive unless it was with their fated. That was why male omegas were very much valuable in the black market. They were sought for their ability to pleasure without the risk of spreading bastards within wealthy shifter families. Questions were swirling around Wayne’s mind. They all wanted to be released and answered all at once. Yet all he was able to do right then and there was stare.
Liam raised a hand, resting it on the fleshy side of his right shoulder. “They force-reversed my alpha’s claiming before they tore him to pieces. Fidel tried to protect us until the end. Laurent was three.”
Wayne swallowed. The lump in his throat remained.
Liam forced a small laugh as he resumed walking. “And everyone thought fated mates are the apex of shifter fairy tales.” He sighed. “But most just actually end up in tragedy.” The man sighed, in that short burst of breath Wayne heard sadness, but mostly amusement. “My alpha was a weirdo. But every minute with him was so… memorable. And Laurent and my alpha’s memories are the only things keeping me sane here.”
Wayne followed, feeling shackles pulling him down. Because he knew. He knew what it was like to lose your fated. Natural causes would have been painful enough. But in the hands of brutality, it was a never ending sorrow for the one that was left behind. He knew. He very much knew. Because he lost his fated omega— bright, jolly soul, Larri— in the hands of a two-faced molester five years ago.
“Why are you telling me this?” Wayne said. His voice like gravel being raked. The more he stared at Liam’s back— always dignified, confident, and tall— the more Wayne felt lost. He was beginning to see through millions of surfaces all at once that it was so hard to catch up. He was plunged in this place where the truth was vile and unforgivable. This wasn’t what he was expecting. He wasn’t prepared for this. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” Liam shrugged. “Let’s see… Because you’re from the AD and let’s be honest. You’re disgusted with me.”
“Wha—”
Liam glanced over his shoulder. “I’ve cried myself to sleep many times, wishing for anyone from the AD to help us. When I’ve ran out of tears to cry, I realized I can’t rely on anyone but myself. I’d do all the disgusting ways there is just to protect and make my son survive. I don’t mind being the necessary evil.”
He dragged himself, not feeling each step that he was m
aking. Liam was walking ahead like no floodgates have been massively opened. He could only fix his gaze at the back of Liam’s head. He could only try understanding what was going on inside that complicated mind. In that long bridge Liam looked so brave and strong yet… vulnerable.
Wayne’s throat constricted. Everything that he’d seen so far were the truth of Liam’s lies the man had twisted to reality.
The rush of water from the gleaming silver faucet somehow lessened the intensity of Liam hovering above the sink, retching. The man’s face was paler than usual, his lips drained of its nice reddish touch. Liam gripped the edge of the marble counter, his fingers turning white. With one last painful retch, Liam’s coughing softened. Until it was only the man’s somehow ragged, painful breathing that could be heard.
Wayne was standing outside the door. His hands balled into fists. His jaws so tense he could have snapped a raw metal through his teeth. He watched Liam reach for the faucet once more, sipped and used the water to gargle his mouth. He spat it into the sink, reached for the silver gilded with gold paper towel holder and wiped his mouth effectively before throwing the sodden thing into the silver trash container. Liam paid himself one last stare into the mirror, grimaced at what he saw and shook his head.
As the man passed by him through the door, Wayne bit out, “Liam we need to talk.”
“What about?” Liam asked without turning back.
“About this.”
Once out of the separate washroom, Liam stood briefly in the middle of his massive suite. He took a step towards his chair that Wayne had realized was probably Liam’s favorite. But then the man stopped midstride and instead veered to an intricately carved door. Liam walked into it with Wayne stopping dead by the door frame. The deep red carpets covering the entire room cushioned Liam’s bare feet. Pushed back into the walls were deep, polished mahogany cabinets. Liam monotonously pulled each door open. They revealed layers of fabrics, hundreds of robes, a number of skin-fitting formal wear. Liam looked around and halted in front of a dresser full of robes. Glittery ones. Silken almost see-through fabrics. Innumerable different hues. Prints of nature and sunlight. Prints of the ocean and marine life, so vivid they looked about to float out of the material. Prints of the darkest night with star dusts on the hem. Liam’s profile was hard as steel as he studied the expensive selection. He traced and searched through the endless robes. Abruptly, his hand paused on top of a green one. The print on the material was tree leaves overlapping as though they were waiting for that one strong gush of wind to scatter them around. Each side of the loose sleeves was sewn with red silk. The pop of that sultry color so strong with the green. Liam smoothed down his pale hands to the robe before pulling it off the metal hanger. He unceremoniously threw it on the huge recliner in the center of the room.
“Liam. Don’t ignore me.”
“Don’t you see I’m busy?” Liam pointedly asked. He impatiently shooed his hand in the air and headed for a narrower door. “I need to prepare.”
The door to the bathroom was left ajar by Liam, leaving Wayne to listen into the stream of water from the shower head. Wayne was cold. And it wasn’t because of the temperature. A statue would have felt much warmer than what he was feeling right now. He swallowed hard and tried to think things through. But no matter how he turned things upside down, over and over, he couldn’t think of anything to stop this.
A few hours earlier, Liam was in his office reading lists and barking off orders through the internal phone system. Wayne’s post as usual was to stand guard by the door. Though the last days he found himself lounging into one of the seats instead with Liam not saying anything. Since that night when Liam had shared a part of himself so dark, they haven’t discussed anything more or related. Wayne wanted to. But the opportunity never arose.
Fifteen minutes before four in the dark afternoon, a soft yet urgent knock came into Liam’s office door. It opened and revealed a group of men in similar expensive suits lined at the entrance. All their expressions were hard and brooding. Two familiar faces came into view as well. That was the time Liam stood from behind his mahogany desk, acknowledging the sudden visitors.
A man with balding temples, his gait confident and cool, stepped forward. His face was as hard as the steel-hued suit he was wearing. The beady eyes with crow’s feet never gave away anything, although the smug, demeaning grin coming from Dalton was enough to send Wayne standing on his seat as well. Gordon, the Chief Security, was expressionless as usual.
“These men are to escort you to your client’s room,” the old man said. His voice soft but firm. “You’re booked.”
Liam who still was holding his fountain pen that time, gently put it down. It rolled slightly to the side, the sound thunderous in that intense silence.
“The client paid your price in cash. You’re expected in two hours. Prepare yourself.”
Liam watched the old man leave, took his coat from the back of his chair and began moving. The entire way from Liam’s office to Liam’s sleeping quarters they were being followed by the detail of this client’s men. Wayne had tightly shut his mouth. Only after they were back at the safety of Liam’s room did he allow himself to explode.
“What does that mean you’re booked?”
Liam shook his head like Wayne was three. “It’s a simple sentence. What’s so hard to understand?”
The man threw his coat on one arm of his favorite chair and started removing his cuff links.
“You’re booked?” Wayne repeated more for his benefit.
“Yes. I’m booked. It means someone wealthy paid that ridiculous price set for a male omega and I’m expected to bend. You still don’t get it? Shall I go for the micro details?”
“I definitely understand what’s going on, what I don’t is why do you have to put up with this, you’re the manager, manage yourself out of this!”
At that point, Wayne knew it sounded damn immature. He knew why. He knew now why Liam was in this shithole but the fact was still so hard to swallow that he didn’t know what to do with it.
The creak of the bathroom door opening wider made Wayne’s thoughts shatter. A soft teasing scent within the warm steam escaped through the door. It circled inside the room, clinging so strongly in Wayne’s sense of smell and mind. Liam emerged from the door. He was wrapped around a robe as white as unsullied snow and as soft-looking as a puffy cloud. The man’s black hair was dripping wet. His skin damp and flushed from the bath. Liam headed straight before the huge dresser and sat, inspecting his inviting reflection through the massive mirror. He lifted his hand and began to finger-brush his hair.
Liam just went on with his ritual quietly. He lathered his hand with some oil, spreading it to the expanse of his neck down to his slightly exposed chest. He sat there mechanically doing all these preparations. Expressionless. Hard and unfeeling. Even so, Liam was so unbelievably beautiful.
Wayne caught his reflection through the mirror, staring hard at Liam’s face. He looked away. “Stop ignoring me Liam. We need to talk.”
Liam picked a bottle on top of the dresser, sniffed inside it, and placed it back. “What do we need to talk about at a time like this?”
“Look,” Wayne began. He was surprised to hear the shaking in his voice. “You probably have lost all the trust to AD, but trust me at least. I may be able to help you.”
Liam’s mouth curled at the corner. But it was hardly a smile. “Correct me if I’m wrong but your mission is to spy some high-ranked AD official backing The Prey Ground, isn’t it? Rescuing us isn’t— and has never been— your priority mission. I know that at least.”
“But—”
“Ford. Just do your job. And I’ll do my own.”
“Liam please.”
The man just sat there with his back straight. He looked back at the mirror and met Wayne’s gaze there. “Bring me the robe from the recliner.”
Wayne was too rigid to move. He didn’t even want to get close to that despicable piece of clothing. Liam though made no
move at all. He just sat and stared there waiting. Wayne cursed under his breath, reached for the recliner and carefully took the robe. He approached the dresser where Liam was.
Liam stood with his back to Wayne. He dropped the white robe he was wearing on the floor. The white blinding fabric pooled around the man’s feet. Wayne swallowed hard. The man’s damp nape exposed to him. All that expanse of smooth creamy naked skin under his close gaze. And all he wanted to do was close his eyes and not get familiar with it. He wanted to bleach his mind at the sight of Liam’s shoulder, where the claiming mark bitten in reverse was stark. For these bastards to force Liam’s alpha to bite his fated omega and undo the claim, he could not imagine what they had subjected him or what they used to threaten him.
To Wayne’s surprise, Liam spread his arms, his amber eyes through the mirror was expectant. Instinctively, Wayne slid the robe on Liam’s frame delicately. He did so ever carefully, not even allowing his fingertips to graze Liam’s skin. Liam was watching him.
“I told you, I don’t trust AD anymore.”
Wayne stared back at Liam through the mirror. “Then trust me.”
Liam dropped his gaze. He gathered the lace of the robe and began tightening it around his waist. When he lifted his gaze back up again, Liam’s eyes were penetrating.
“Who am I gonna trust?”
“Forget Rey Ford. And trust Regem Wayne.”
Liam stepped away with that very rare, real smile. A smile that vanished in a second as the man briefly yet firmly squeezed Wayne’s arm. “We’ll talk. Later.”
Wayne had never felt so helpless as he watched Liam head for his client.
* * * *
When Liam came back a few hours later, he was already showered and… vacant. All the man did was change into a loose shirt and a black cotton trousers before dropping into his favorite massive chair close by the window. Wayne never crossed the room. He didn’t say a word. He just stood by the wall, silent like every single furniture in the room. Watching quietly and allowing Liam the silence and space. A few seconds later, he began hearing a short of breath. At the same time, Liam started swiftly wiping something off his cheek. The man then once again would push back into the chair, allowing it to drown and swallow him in as he stared at the hypnotizing fall of snow against the frosty windowsill.