by Dakila Reed
The bed creaked softly from Wayne’s weight when he shifted, the mattress too soft to his liking. He laced his fingers with Liam’s until the man’s breath had evened out. For a long while, Wayne just watched his still shadow so prominent on the white bed. His fingertips were tingling, and his skin was too sensitive. It was almost as if he could feel the pound of blood through Liam’s hand.
With Liam tightening his grip, Wayne looked over. Liam had hid himself entirely by the covers. “Thanks.”
“Is today a lucky day or an ominous day?” Wayne said easing the tension in the room. “Getting two ‘thank yous’ from you in a day is hardly a small achievement.”
Liam snorted, though the covers smothered the sound. After that, it was the quiet again joining them on the bed.
“Do you think Fidel would be mad at me?”
Wayne glanced at their linked hands and looked back into the window. It was much safer there. “He will be mad. Not at you. I think wherever he is, he’s very much proud you’ve gone this far for your son.”
“Yeah?” Liam whispered, sounding pained. “I started not feeling anything whenever I have to whore myself. I’ve detached myself from the act. But earlier… I got reminded of the humiliation of having to submit to someone I don’t even know.”
“It’s the only way you saw to survive here. No one’s going to blame you.”
Liam’s hold had grown even tighter. And Wayne let him.
“Each time I spread myself open for them, I feel uglier and dirtier.”
Wayne swallowed hard, planting himself still on his side of the bed.
“They might have force-reversed my claiming mark so I won’t die when Fidel dies, but my heart is still my own. I miss my alpha. I miss his touches. I miss his hold.” Liam sniffed. “I hate you for reminding me these things.”
“Sorry.”
Liam chuckled a little. “And thankful too for reminding me at the same time.”
Wayne nodded. He didn’t want to read into it too much other than Liam had no other one to spill his thoughts to. For the man to bottle these emotions must be one terrible thing to carry.
“Glad to be of service.”
“If you ever found someone again… will you settle down in one place then?”
Liam sounded so far away. Like the man was already into the cusp of sleep. Wayne watched the man’s fragile form under the covers closely, before slowly, gently slipping his fingers off of Liam’s. He’d never even considered trying to open up himself for commitments much less love after Larri. Some said after one’s fated dies, the one who’s left behind would never be able to find someone new again. Because no one would be able to compare. It would never be the same.
But who was comparing anyway?
“If that someone wants to. I guess I will.”
He almost couldn’t bear it.
It took every ounce of control for Wayne to remain passive and cool. Even when all he wanted was to wrangle this motherfucking sack of old bones, break his neck and twist it multiple times. How this man could sit there, drink his wine, bask in the warmth of the fireplace and smile cunningly at Liam, Wayne didn’t know. Why was he even surprised? The Prey Ground had teeming brainwashed and fuck-up alphas stuck in the disconcerting views of hierarchy. The baffling thing was they did believe they were in the right.
Wayne darted his gaze to Liam's languid form. In the middle of Liam’s rounds around the viewing rooms, the man had been summoned to Beaufort’s office. Wayne followed two paces behind. Now, Beaufort was a new name for Wayne. No one had mentioned this guy, or what this man was to The Prey Ground. This Beaufort could be another brass menace if the brief flash of hatred in Liam’s eyes was anything to go by.
After knocking into another intimidating giant double doors, Liam entered swiftly at the same time some men in black suits came out. Liam was uncaring of the opening leer the men gave him, his amber eyes pinning right away the man inside sitting so comfortably on a rich red leather recliner.
“Liam, stunning as always,” the man said by way of greeting. Wearing nothing but a black robe, glass of wine in hand, he motioned for Liam to come closer. His thick white brows framed slits of green behind moon spectacles. An alarming calm, control, and depth in them while lined by deep, ugly crow’s feet. “Those grapes are amazing. Try it,” he added.
“What do you need?”
“Ah… now being impatient dear Liam,” Beaufort said, pouting. It looked disgusting. “I just missed you a little.”
“You won’t be having me summoned if it isn’t something ugly. Say it.”
The man chuckled softly. He bent forward to the dark red wooden table, poured himself another glass of wine and sipped first leisurely. With a lingering smile on his lips, he murmured words of praises, how good the wine was, how the olden matters were always the best. He was bullshitting Liam.
After his grand silence, Beaufort said, “Laurent’s sold.”
In those two words, it was like a tunnel suddenly came diffusing all sounds in the room. The crackle of fire, the clink of glass, breathing, there was nothing. Wayne completely horrified, knowing what those words entailed looked at Liam through the corners of his eyes. He remained looking forward, body rigid like a statue about to crumble down the ground.
“I see. So the brat’s got an owner now,” Liam nodded thoughtfully, his voice devoid of anything. "Isn't it better for Laurent to be here though? I am not forever desirable. I'll age. And you don't find male omegas every corner of each district.”
Beaufort smiled, inspecting the little ripples inside his glass of wine. "That was our concern before. It's why we refused a lot of offers beforehand. But the buyer this time is one of our strongest backers. We cannot refuse this time."
There was a complete silence from Liam. A few burning logs in the fireplace snapped, bursts of little red lights came and dissipated in the air. The man’s eyes never left Liam as the only omega in that room gracefully perched himself on the massive rolled arm of the couch across.
Beaufort lowered his gaze at his wine, brought it to his nose and inhaled before he took a sip. Peering through the top lenses of his glasses he said, "Do you disagree?"
Liam snorted, uncrossing his legs and crossing them again. "That little whore in the making is my son after all. 'Course I'd be curious."
The old man continued watching Liam. There was the glint of obvious appreciation in his eyes and for a moment, Wayne wanted to hurl. There could be something between these two before. After all it was in Liam’s words he ‘actively’ whored himself out to the brasses to get where he was. Some men liked their toys fighting. And more than the act itself, some men take their pleasure from totally owning the feisty. Beaufort clearly looked like one of those men.
“When is the turn over going to take place?"
“At the Friday gathering.”
After a long pause, Liam nodded. He pulled one grape off the huge golden platter, his elegant fingers contrastingly pale into the deep sultry hues of the fruit. He threw it in his mouth and chewed silently. He swallowed. "It wouldn't be a problem if I take him with me tonight then. Farewell bonding or something shit like that. It's Friday tomorrow too. We'll soak up some sunshine together, make it sparkling memorable and tell him my secrets how to fuck."
Beaufort raised a thick brow, his lips playing an amused smile. "You'd tell that to a barely six year old?"
"The Prey Ground is selling him as a fuck toy. What better parting gift than to tell him how to be one?"
The man laughed. He waved his glass in a slow salute, smirking at Liam. "Suit yourself. You're one sick parent."
"What? You expect me to cry and beg not to? Too late for that, don't you think?" Liam challenged. "The Prey Ground wouldn't budge anyway. Why waste my energy? It's just a child. If The Prey Ground didn't kill my alpha, I could have just popped lots of babies. You guys are idiots."
Beaufort’s laughter continued in the background as he followed Liam out of the heavily ornamented and suffocating suite
. Wayne had fixed his gaze at the front, eyes trained at the expanse of the halls, its daunting dimness. Liam didn’t say a word. As regal as usual, he barked displeasure at omegas, mocked alphas, and made sure that everything concerning the viewing rooms were all running smoothly. It had been one grueling day, something that felt like it was going on forever. Every single second, Wayne worried. About Liam. About how a man could hold such utter control when he knew Liam must be panicking. Breaking.
At thirty before supper, Liam finally decided to take a breather. The minute the man entered his own suite, at the second Wayne had closed the door behind him, did Wayne hear the sharp intake of breath. Liam, back ramrod straight, headed straight to the window. Wayne crossed the room. He did so quietly, one would hear a pin dropping. Approaching Liam, Wayne carefully moved to the man’s side. He realized Liam was staring at one point yet entirely at nothing. A single tear ran down Liam's right eye. Wayne swallowed the lump in his throat. It was no doubt a tear of torment he was seeing. A parent's anguish.
"Never," Liam gritted as he gripped the windowsill tight. "Over my dead rotting body," he continued. "Not my son..."
Liam nodded, as if inside the man's head he'd been having a debate he’d won over. He would do something. And by way Liam's profile look so hauntingly grim against the glass panes, Wayne just knew this was going to be... do or die.
Wayne knelt before Laurent. He almost couldn’t bear the utter trust despite the obvious fear in those large eyes. The kid’s face was half hidden by a yellow knitted scarf, hands covered with matching yellow mittens. He ruffled the boy’s curly brown locks and smiled.
“Hello. I’m Regem.”
Shyly, the boy replied, “My name is Laurent. I’m five.”
“Your scarf and mittens look cute. Are those red little trucks on them?”
Growing animated, the boy raised both his hands in front, beaming at the warmness that was protecting his little hands and fingers. “They’re firetrucks. Firetrucks are my favorite. Liam made these for me.”
“Liam did?” Wayne whispered. The sudden picture that took form in his mind made a lump in his throat. Liam on a chair, knitting. The image was warming the insides of his chest, enough to make him blank out for a second. “That’s cool kid. I like firetrucks too.”
“You do?” the boy asked brightly. “You can ask Liam to make you something like this.”
It made Wayne chuckle. “Next time. Next time,” he mumbled. The closest Liam would probably do for him was stab his eye with the knitting needles. He glanced over his shoulder. The door to Liam’s private offices was left slightly ajar, out of sight from little Laurent, in full view for Wayne. Liam was leaning his weight at the edge of a marble desk. In full winter gear, the fur around Liam’s neck didn’t soften the intensity wafting around the man’s body. Liam was fixed on the videos in front of him. Arms crossed over his chest, hands balled into fists, he wasn’t even almost blinking. Liam was so focused for that particular second that would redefine, rearrange a number of lives that day.
“We’ll run tomorrow. All of us here,” Liam rasped. “Away from this fucking retarded place.”
Right there and then, last night, Wayne knew he’d risk everything to help. But Liam killed it. Even now he could feel the sting. An alpha’s natural instinct was to answer to the omega’s distress but there was Liam, telling him not to bother.
“Don’t even think about it Wayne,” Liam hissed.
Wayne opened his mouth, objection about to slip from his tongue. “What are you talking about? I want to—”
Liam took a step closer, his eyes desperate. It pierced Wayne at the center. “Us running here is short-term. Your job is going to affect lives for the long-run.” Liam nudged him on the chest sharply making his point. “Don’t make a segue.”
It was irrational. That time it was Wayne who felt so helpless and weak. Because while he swore and took oath of his dedication to the Allied Districts purposes, Liam was another matter.
He turned back to the little omega who started chewing the scarf close to his mouth. “Hey… why don’t you call Liam ‘Dad’?”
The boy blinked at him as if weighing if he should tell the secret or not.
It was a weird question. One that Wayne wasn’t even planning of asking. Just somehow, it tumbled out of his lips. This growing curiosity about Liam was already spiraling out of control. He never should have learned more about the paradox that Liam Bridges was. He never should have tried to glean more than what he needed in this undercover. But without knowing who the man under that serpent skin was, Wayne wouldn’t have understood, wouldn’t even have seen with his own eyes the areas that AD was still lacking. The organization was so obsessed with garnering information, in planning infiltration. There was not harm in planning. Every successful operation was backed up by mountains of expert planning, meticulous preparation. But the situation in Sierra Via, specifically in The Prey Ground, was much more complicated. AD being infested had become detrimental to the many souls waiting and begging for mercy.
“I call him Liam because he said so,” the boy muttered. “For safety,” he raised his hand and swished a line in the air, “Below the radar.”
There was understanding in his blue eyes gleaming, unfaltering. A five-year-old should have never been subjected to try understanding why he couldn’t call his father ‘dad’. To Wayne’s surprise though, the boy leaped off the chair. The kid’s yellow mitten-clad hands tugged at his own. “We’re going out to be free right? You’re Liam’s friend right? You’ll help and run with us! You’re huge like a superhero. We’ll win,” the boy declared excitedly. For a moment, Wayne wondered what the kid was about to do reaching for his lapels. To his utter amusement, the kid forced him closer. Eye to eye first, Laurent then bent to whisper at Wayne’s ear. “Once we’re out from the baddies I’ll call him ‘Papa’ very loud.”
Wayne was swept with an avalanche of emotions as he gazed intently at this precious young life. Laurent at this age wasn’t afraid to come face to face with alphas. The kid even did so much as yank him forward with his little hands. He chuckled. Laurent was so much like his dad. This kid would surely kick a lot of sorry alpha asses in the future. And for a brief moment— to his shock— he wanted to see that future unfold. He wanted to witness it. He swallowed and tried to tug the yellow scarf around the boy’s neck making it more secure but comfortable. Liam and this kiddo surely were making his usually calm and collected emotions go haywire.
“You do that kiddo. Liam’s going to be very happy… and proud.”
The door behind them creaked as it opened wide. Wayne stood and noticed a tightness around Liam’s mouth that vanished into a full-on ray of sunshine when the man finally darted to his child. “Laurent, baby, come here.”
The boy barreled into Liam’s open arms. Nothing got past from Wayne’s gaze. How Liam swept a few wayward curly locks off the boy’s forehead. How Liam motioned to pick his child off the ground and settled the kid close to his chest. How quickly Liam brushed a kiss on the side of the boy’s head. Wayne wasn’t sure why the surge of something unpleasant in his mind was rearing its ugly head. The same gut feeling when something was going to go wrong despite them trying to make things right.
“Laurent, today we’re going to play a game with a ton of others,” Liam said trying to sound pleasant. “Do you want that?”
The boy clung to Liam with all the trust a kid had for their parent and grinned widely. “I know. Running away from the baddies.”
Liam had a pinched look on his face but didn’t allow it to linger. Instead he threw a hard look at Wayne, a warning, or maybe… pleading.
“Yup. We’re gonna play run and seek. We won’t hide. You’re going to hold on to my hands and I will hold yours tight. I won’t let go but if something happens, trust Uncle Regem here, find him. He’ll keep you safe.”
“If something happens?” the boy croaked. It was obvious. The boy could feel it too. “What would happen? We’re all getting away from the badd
ies.”
“Laurent, listen to me,” Liam said embracing his child like he was losing oxygen. “Before being labelled as an alpha, beta, human, anything or a shifter omega, you’re a precious soul first. A beloved one. My blessing. Don’t ever forget that…”
Something closed in Wayne’s throat. The boy’s shoulders started shaking. He took a step closer to the tight cocoon of father and son and began ruffling the little boy’s soft hair. Quietly he said, “You’re scaring the kid.”
“Am not,” Liam said shaking his head at Wayne. He then wrapped his other arm tighter around his son. “Baby,” he began softly. “Have I broken any promise to you?”
“N-no…”
“So trust me. Whatever happens we’ll get out.”
Wayne looked away. Getting out was a lot easier if they didn’t care to live.
Letting the boy down back on the floor, Liam directed Laurent to use the toilet inside the room one more time. Both Liam and Wayne watched the little kid run to the small narrow door. When the door gently clicked shut, Liam turned to Wayne. The urgency in his eyes making his amber eyes a deeper shade.
“The call will be in five minutes.”
Wayne tightened his jaws at the same time stilling his arms to stay glued on his sides. For a moment he almost let himself gather Liam in his arms, tuck him into his chest and murmur words of comfort. But words were hardly what they needed at the moment. They’ve gone for this detail over and over again. Every Friday of the week, omegas were allowed to go outside to soak up sun. The sunlight only lasts for about an hour in the morning before the eternal cast of dimness caused by thick clouds block them again. One of the many reasons no omegas ever got to escape aside from the disabling drug was a much obvious tactic. Omegas were only allowed to wear one layer of sweaters over their clothes. They wouldn’t survive in those garments in Sierra Via’s harsh freezing conditions should they decide to run and escape. In the wolf form, their chance of surviving was larger.