by Merel Pierce
“It’s a mistake,” Lorin replied, unable to keep the disdain from his voice. “Wasn’t supposed to be on this shipment.”
One of the Alphas squared his shoulders, sauntering over. “Yeah? What’s her number? Let’s see if she’s on the list.”
“Doesn’t matter what the list says,” Lorin snapped. A low, threatening growl erupted from him as the lesser Alpha invaded his space. It was a blatant challenge, stepping up to another Alpha like this low-life was. Either he was stupid, or he thought that pathetic cattle prod and his pack of buddies would keep him safe. “Go back to sorting your haul and leave it.”
“Tryin’ to keep that sweet piece of ass for yourself, Alpha? I feel like you’re tryin’ to cheat us.”
“Oh, he’s trying to cheat us, all right,” another guard chimed in. “That bitch would bring a pretty penny down-under.”
As the last of the slaves were pushed out of the transport, Mullins stopped beside Lorin, looking back and forth between the two men. “She’s not worth shit, buddy. Barren as this gods-forsaken desert, that one.”
The guard gave a toothy grin, holding his ground. “Even better for a whore house.”
Mullins shrugged, vanishing back inside the hold. Lorin would get no help from his coworkers. Not that he expected to. If things went south, he’d be lucky if they didn’t just leave him.
The man shifted his attention to the girl, insulting Lorin a second time by ignoring his warning. He pulled an information tablet from his pocket, no doubt scrolling through his intake log. “What’s your number, sweet cheeks?”
The girl stiffened, pressing herself back against him as close as she could. Lorin tightened his hold. It would be easier this way, making that prick check her in himself instead of having to take the tablet from him after he bashed his face in.
“817 is her number.”
The man made a noise of interest, double tapping something on the screen. “There she is. 817—aged 22 years, overall condition score 8.5—and the fatal flaw that brought you here? Can’t make babies. Tsk, tsk, what a shame. Don’t worry, sweetie, they did you a favor. You’ll get all the cock your holes can stand down here, and they won’t give two fucks whether they can pump one in you or not.”
His buddies laughed. He slid the tablet back into his pocket. “There. All checked in. How about we get you settled in your ‘suite’?”
“How about you fuck off like I told you?” Lorin snarled.
The guard frowned, raising his prod and pointing it at Lorin’s side. “I don’t like your tone, Alpha. Maybe I need to call out to the auction house and talk to your boss about this.”
With his arm across the girl’s chest, Lorin would have had to reach over to make a grab for it with his free hand. Chances were the slimy fucker would zap him at least once before he could get a grip. He wasn’t worried about getting popped, but he’d seen the man up the charge on the device. If he got shocked, so would the little female. Without knowing how high the voltage was set, he didn’t want to take the risk.
“Sure, and let’s talk about the illegal market you’re running out here while we’re at it—”
For a disposal rat, the man was fast. Lorin heard the pop and sizzle of the prod, but he didn’t have a chance to react—Elias’s little female beat him to it.
He was still holding her tight when her feet came off the ground, the Omega coiling herself up and kicking out at the Alpha before them with both legs. The strike hit him square in the chest, the danger of the prod now out of reach as the man stumbled back.
Lorin whirled the girl to the side, forcing her back into the cargo hold.
The guard let out a roar and grabbed the prod, launching himself at them.
Never one to refuse a challenge, Lorin stopped, waiting for the man to come within range. He deflected the crackling prod with his forearm when the guard swung it at him, throwing a punch with his right hand that connected squarely with the man’s jaw. The Alpha stumbled back, dazed, and Lorin took advantage. He caught hold of the man’s shirt, and three punches later the man’s knees buckled.
Lorin released him, his attention shifting to the other dock rats as the bloodied man collapsed in a heap. He pointed at the nearest Alpha, one who’d been slinking closer, but had stopped the second Lorin’s eyes landed on him.
“Don’t fucking move—not a one of you. Just forget this happened and go on with your sick-fuck business.
“Everybody on board?” he shouted as he backed into the vehicle. A chorus of bored shouts went up, announcing that the crew was all present. “Shut the goddamn doors already.”
He held his breath as his crewmates shut the doors and sealed the latch, waiting for the green lights to flash red and signal their release from the loading bay. That prick of an Alpha could make trouble if he wanted. They could refuse to release them from the bay.
What they were doing out here—selling the slaves meant for disposal—was illegal. The administration knew, of course. There was no way they couldn’t. But as long as it was kept under wraps, they ignored it. That would change if shit got started with the transport crews.
Lorin was banking on the fact that those assholes didn’t want to draw attention to their operation and risk jeopardizing it. They were stupid, but they couldn’t be that stupid.
It took 120 seconds for the light to flash red. It was the longest 120 seconds of Lorin’s life. As the vehicle disengaged, he breathed a sigh of relief.
“Jesus, Reinhilt,” one of his co-workers snorted. “You’re lucky those fucks didn’t follow you in. I woulda kicked your ass right out on the dock if you brought that limp-dick drama in here.”
“The hell you would.”
*
The big brute pulled Magda down the narrow hall, shoving her into an open cage and following her in. Hand to her throat, he forced her against the wall and leaned in close. She knew enough not to protest, especially with her hands still bound at her waist. The man was a wild card.
“You listen, and you listen good,” he hissed. “The only reason you aren’t on your back in a whorehouse or on the way to the incinerator is because he wants you. Don’t give me a reason to regret pulling you, or I’ll make sure the hell I throw you in is worse than the first would have been. Got it?”
Magda tried to nod. With his fingers crushing her windpipe, it wasn’t easy.
Still looking sour and suspicious, the Alpha released her and backed out of the cage. He didn’t bother shutting the door. They both knew there was nowhere for her to go. She sighed and let herself slide to the floor.
The past twenty-four hours had been harrowing. After the incident with the two Alphas, the women in her pen had started heckling her. Things quickly devolved into a fight that had resulted in a busted lip, some bruised ribs, and a bit of a limp. Sleeping on the hard floor of the pen had been nearly impossible, especially when she was so sore.
Waking up to the racket of the guards announcing it was time to go had been worse.
People had started to panic. They were supposed to have more time. Crying, screaming, fighting—all for nothing. No one could stop it from happening.
One by one the slaves had been subdued, bound, and ushered out. They’d traveled through the transport hall to the lower deck, where they were loaded into the cramped vehicle. Packed tight like sardines, there had been nothing to do but dread what was coming.
She wished she’d been able to say goodbye to her favorite guard.
Magda hadn’t expected to see a familiar face on the transport, but the sight hadn’t given her any hope. He’d spared her only a fleeting glance before continuing on his way without acknowledging her.
Resigned to her fate, Magda had tried to sleep. She’d drifted in and out of consciousness with each bounce of the vehicle or shift of her fellow cage mates. As pathetic as it felt, she’d been ready for it to be over. She was exhausted. Months in various forms of captivity had worn her down. Knowing she’d never be free again, never feel warm or safe, had torn at her so
ul bit by bit. The only time she’d even felt human had been when he came to see her.
When the transport had shuddered to a stop, a single tear slid down her cheek.
The guards had started to unload, pulling slaves out and forcing them down the aisle. Magda had hung her head, trying not to cry. Tears would only make it worse. These men—the type who did this kind of thing to their own—would laugh at her tears and hurt her for seeming weak. She knew that from experience.
So when they’d opened her cage and shoved her out in front of the line of Betas, Magda had tried to be stoic.
But as she’d neared the open end of the transport, the sight of slaves being prodded and zapped as men leered and snickered had shaken her resolve.
She’d never made it onto the dock. Pain had torn at her scalp as she was jerked to one side, out of the line of people and against a man’s chest. Unable to fight, Magda had frozen. He’d thrown his arm across her chest, crushing her to him.
She’d recognized the snarl in his voice when he spoke. Her Alpha’s Alpha. What was he doing?
What had happened next was a blur. The disposal guards’ approach; the threat of the Taser; striking out to keep her protector from being zapped; before she knew it, she’d been back in the transport, the only slave to leave the station where she was meant to die.
He said she was alive because he wanted her. She hardly dared to hope.
How long they’d been traveling when he dug his phone out of his pocket, she wasn’t sure. Magda watched from the corner of her eye as he dialed, frowning when the man on the other end shouted at him loud enough for her to hear.
“Shut up and listen, you pain in the ass,” he growled. “Be at the Duhlen gate in twenty minutes. If you aren’t there, I’m throwing her out anyway. Got it?”
Whatever the man on the other end of the phone was saying was cut short when the Alpha ended the call.
“You really are the bitch in your relationship, Reinhilt.”
She startled when the man whirled around and locked his hand around his comrade’s throat, prompting a snarling fit between the two men.
“You fucking say one more word, I’ll rip your throat out.”
“Whoa, whoa, Reinhilt, he’s just joking. Take it easy, man,” the Beta guard said hastily. “Come on. You’ve got what you came for, man. Chill.”
The air was thick with aggression, the guttural growls of both men setting Magda’s teeth on edge.
“Reinhilt, man… Come on. Don’t make me file a report. You know what’ll happen,” the Beta coaxed. To Magda’s relief, it finally seemed to sink in.
With a curse, he released the smaller Alpha and stalked out of the handler cage.
When he gave way to pacing the little hall, Magda closed her eyes and sighed in relief.
Chapter Five
Twenty minutes felt like hours. Time practically stood still. Magda knew they were close when the Alpha stopped in front of her pen, glaring down at her.
“Up, now.”
She struggled to her feet, an awkward affair since she was still bound and sore. The second she managed to get up, the Alpha looped his hand around her elbow, dragging her from the pen and down the hall.
“Open the doors.”
One of the Alphas in the back sighed as he got up and punched in a code on the door release pad. Judging by the flashing red lights, Magda guessed it was an emergency override.
He pulled her to the back, slipping something from his pocket as they paused before the parting metal doors. The glint of light flashing off the blade was her only warning before he began sawing at the binding wrapped around her waist.
Magda stiffened, holding herself as immobile as possible for fear that he’d cut her. When the ropes snapped free, he closed the knife and pocketed it, tearing the remaining strands from around her wrists and tossing them to the floor.
He jerked her forward to the edge of the vehicle bed, pushing a call button on the keypad nearby. “Stop at the gate.”
“What for?”
“Just stop at the goddamn gate. Sixty seconds, all right?”
“Somethin’ happens, it’s your ass.”
“Yeah, I got it.”
The vehicle slowed, thudding over uneven pavement. The open doors of the transport shuttered everything from sight except what was behind them, and the brightness of the sun hurt her eyes. She couldn’t see much of anything at all, not that she’d recognize the landscape even if she could. She’d never been outside in the city.
As the vehicle stuttered to a stop, Magda’s heart threatened to do the same. She didn’t know what was going to happen, where she’d go, or how she’d be treated. The world was suddenly all possibility and threat at the same time.
A darker form came into her line of sight—a man, though she couldn’t see the details of him yet while her eyes were struggling to adjust to natural light. He paused at the end of the transport, the bed of it hitting him at chest level.
As he stepped into the shadows of the doors, Magda could finally make out his face. It was him; her guard, her Alpha.
“Don’t say I never gave you anything,” Lorin muttered.
The man nodded, lifting his arms. “Come on, hellcat. Time to get off this shit barge.”
Magda didn’t even think. She bent down, bracing her hands on his shoulders as he pulled her off the truck. He set her on her feet beside him, and Magda wrapped herself around his arm, afraid to let go.
“I’ll see you at home, Lorin,” he said.
She glanced up from beneath the tangled mess of her hair, staring into the back of the transport as the doors shut. Lorin, as he’d called her rescuer, stared down on them with a pinched expression. angry and conflicted.
“All right let’s get out of here,” the Alpha at her side murmured, his tone low and excited.
He ushered her out of the street, a guiding hand on her back directing her to a small street vehicle. It was an older model, similar to the simple cars she had seen out beyond the walls. Alien tech was sparse where she was from and hovercrafts nonexistent—so while this vehicle was older, it was still more advanced than anything she’d ever ridden in.
The Alpha opened the passenger door for her, helped her into the vehicle, and fastened the safety belt. As soon as he got in on his side, the engine roiled to life. Magda gripped the sides of the seat, unnerved by the way the vehicle handled. It wasn’t a huge, lumbering thing like the transport. It was quiet and quick, its movements unnatural.
Her Alpha covered her hand with his own, squeezing gently. “It’s okay. We don’t have far to go,” he said, weaving his fingers between hers.
Magda stared down at them, puzzled. Somehow, this act felt more intimate than when she’d had him in her mouth. No one had held her hand, nor offered comfort the way he was now, since her mother died when she was eight.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
Magda wasn’t afraid of this man like she was of his other half. She didn’t feel like he’d strike her for speaking.
“Home,” was all he said.
Her brow furrowed, uncertainty washing over her. “Home?”
Her guard glanced her way as he wove through the traffic, squeezing her hand again. “Yes, home. You’re mine now.”
“Really?”
He smiled at her. “Really. No more pens for you, hellcat.”
“What about your…” Magda paused, trying to find the right word. “Mate? He doesn’t like me.”