by J. L. Wilder
The bars of her cell rattled for a third time. “What?” Maddy asked. “I’m up.”
“Over here,” the Death Fang growled. They were often like this. It seemed to make them angry that they had to speak to her. That’s not my fault, though, Maddy thought. I’d rather not talk to them either. She knew there was no point in resisting—he’d come in and drag her over if she didn’t obey—so she approached the door.
The Death Fang opened it.
That was a surprise. That had never happened before. She was allowed out of her cell twice a day for exercise, but she’d already had her morning session and it was too early for the afternoon one. What did he want? Unable to help feeling alarmed, she stepped back.
He waved her forward impatiently. “Come out.”
“Why?” Surprises rarely meant anything good with the Death Fangs.
“You’re to be prepared for auction,” he said.
He spoke as if he were telling her the weather, but in truth, it was the most devastating news of her life. Auction. It had hung like a specter over her since her thirteenth autumn, when she had first witnessed the auction. She had been new to the Death Fangs then and hadn’t quite understood the scope of what she was dealing with, and she’d been confused as she’d watched the older girls in the yard, every day, getting ready. They were given hot baths, she knew, instead of being forced to wash up at a sink with cold water and hard soap the way she was. Their hair had been cut and tended to, and they’d received dresses that flattered their figures. Maddy, in her rough beige cotton shift, huddled in the dirty corner of her cell, had been painfully jealous, and when she had learned that she too would have her turn, when she reached breeding age, she’d been thrilled.
And yet, the other girls didn’t seem happy. Even as they were cleaned up and prepared, the expressions on their faces grew more miserable, day by day. She would have asked them what the problem was, but the Death Fangs’ girls were never permitted to talk to one another.
At the age of sixteen, she had been taken to her first auction—not to be sold, but to work. Her job had been to serve drinks to the guests. But what she’d seen had shocked her.
The girls for sale were lined up on a stage. The bidders were encouraged to approach them and to examine them physically, touching and squeezing anywhere they liked. The girls had to bear this treatment in silence, or a member of the Death Fangs would slap them, and hard. One by one, each girl was sold and taken away by one of the guests, her wrists and ankles bound together in chains.
It was nothing like the beautiful omega life Maddy had been raised to expect. Omegas were to be treated like queens—that was what she had always been told. But these girls were treated more like livestock. Whatever their new masters did with them once they’d been purchased, it was no doubt horrible. Maddy wanted no part of it. Her cell might be cold and dirty, but at least everyone kept their hands off her.
But now, she was going to be auctioned off. She probably should have seen it coming. She was definitely old enough to be mated now. But the thought still filled her with fear.
The Death Fang took her by the arm dispassionately and pulled her out of her cell. Maddy didn’t try to resist—she knew better than to do that by now—but she received another surprise when they turned left, toward a door she’d never been through before. “Where are we going?” she asked.
“You’re to meet with the alpha.”
The alpha. “Why do I need to meet him?”
“He asked for you,” the Death Fang said shortly, giving her arm a tug even though she wasn’t lagging behind. Maddy ached to pull away from him. She hated him. Would it kill him to give her a little information about what was going on, what was going to happen to her?
But if she tried to get away, it wouldn’t go well. She would be beaten again. Oh, they were always so careful when they beat her. They would never do anything to damage her permanently. She knew what her body was worth to them. If she was injured beyond repair, if there was anything significantly wrong with her, she wouldn’t be able to bear healthy litters. And then, the Death Fangs wouldn’t be able to sell her for as high a price.
It was a fact she’d grown up with, a fact she’d known since she’d been a teenager. But she knew just as surely that their reluctance to damage her wouldn’t stop them from hurting her. They were creative. Subconsciously, she traced the scars on her left palm with the tips of her fingers. Those had been particularly painful.
The Death Fang dragged Maddy through a series of doors and into a chamber she’d never entered before. It was like something out of another world, with plush furniture and a carpet so soft she wanted to curl up and go to sleep on it. The room was full of women, all of whom turned to watch as Maddy entered. She wondered if they’d smelled her coming in.
At the head of the room sat a man who had to be the alpha. He wore an open leather vest and faded jeans, and Maddy supposed he was probably about forty years old. His hair was close cropped and steely gray, and his eyes were narrowed in dislike.
“Which one is this?” he asked the Death Fang who’d brought her in.
“Twenty-two.” They didn’t use her name. No one had spoken Maddy’s name in years. She whispered it to herself at night, making sure she wouldn’t forget the sound. Madison. Maddy. I’m Maddy Wood.
“Bring her here,” the alpha said.
The Death Fang led her forward, stood her before the alpha, and then retreated several steps. Maddy went along with it. There was no use fighting them.
The alpha signaled to one of the women. “Isla. Examine her.”
The woman stepped close, her hands exploring Maddy’s body. She was clinical about it, which was some relief. Maddy had seen the way the men at auction lingered over the parts they liked, squeezing the women’s breasts and asses for far longer than should have been necessary. Isla merely moved her hands over Maddy, checking for any damage. Finally, she looked up. “She’s in good shape,” she said. “No broken bones. Organs seem all right. A few scars here and there, but nothing that should diminish her value significantly.”
“Good. Take her through.”
“Wait a minute,” Maddy spoke up. She’d had enough of the fact that no one was speaking to her. It was a risk, but if you didn’t take risks then you never got answers. “Where are you taking me, exactly?”
The alpha raised his eyebrows. “You’re questioning me?”
He sounded more amused than offended, and Maddy was emboldened to continue. “I think I have a right to some information,” she said.
The alpha laughed. “Omegas don’t have rights. Omegas should be grateful for what they get.”
“I’m being sold at auction, right? That’s what this is about?” The best way to get to the answers she wanted was to just ask the questions and not quibble over whether she had any right to ask them.
“You’re at prime breeding age,” the alpha said. “And you’ll be very attractive once you’re polished up a little. We’ll get a good price for you at auction.”
“So, where are you taking me now?” she asked. “The auction isn’t for a week yet.”
“We could hardly march you out onto the stage looking like that, could we? We don’t want our buyers knowing that our omegas sleep in cages. They pay more if they think you’ve been pampered.”
“So, you’re going to fatten me up for slaughter, essentially.”
The alpha glanced to the side and gave a slight nod. Immediately, the man who had brought Maddy in stepped forward and slapped her hard across the face. The impact left her ears ringing and her eyes watering. She stumbled and almost went to her knees, but Isla caught her and held her upright. The other woman’s touch was as dispassionate as if she were straightening a lamp that had been in danger of toppling over.
“No more questions,” said the alpha. “Take her away.”
Isla grabbed Maddy by the wrist and led her out of the chamber, through a back door, and down a stone hallway. Maddy’s cheek still stung from the force of t
he slap. She felt like crying, but she wouldn’t give the Death Fangs the satisfaction of knowing they’d hurt her.
Isla led Maddy into a beautiful, high-ceilinged bathroom. It was, she thought, probably the biggest bathroom she’d ever been in, although it was hard to be sure. Her bathrooms at the house in Los Angeles, before her kidnapping, had been nice.
“Into the tub,” Isla said, pointing.
Maddy hesitated. “Am I supposed to take my clothes off?”
Isla nodded as if this were completely inconsequential.
Maddy had never been naked in front of another person before, but at least it was Isla, who seemed to have no particular interest in her body. She climbed into the tub and sat waiting as it filled with warm water. It was a pleasant sensation, she had to admit. It brought back memories of the warm, relaxing baths of her childhood.
When the tub was full, Isla took up a position behind her and began to wash her hair. Isla’s hands were firm but not unkind, and it felt good. Maddy closed her eyes and relaxed into it.
“Your hair is red,” Isla said. She sounded surprised. “It looked brown under all that dirt.”
“I guess,” Maddy said. She hadn’t really thought about her own appearance in years. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen a mirror, but she knew the reflection must have changed dramatically.
“Red hair is good,” Isla said.
“Is it? Why?”
“People pay more for it.”
“Why would anybody pay more for red hair?” Maddy asked. “It doesn’t make me any better at bearing children. It’s just cosmetic.”
“You’re fooling yourself if you think the cosmetics don’t matter,” Isla said. “The men who come to these auctions want more than one thing from their omegas, you know. Yes, they want someone strong and healthy who can bear them children. But they also want someone attractive to warm their sheets at night. That’s why we pretty you up so much before we sell you.”
“Why do you do this?” Maddy burst out. “Why are you helping them?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re a woman. You must see how screwed up this is. Do you do it every year? Do you always help them get us ready to be sold?”
Isla’s mouth narrowed to a fine line. “Don’t presume to judge me,” she said. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know I’d never do what you’re doing. I’d never help sell someone into—into sex slavery.”
“I have no choice,” Isla said, and for the first time, strain showed in her voice. “William is my alpha,” she said. “I’m subject to his commands.”
Maddy remembered the feeling of being bent against her will to obey the command of an alpha. But her alpha had been a good man. He had never ordered her to do anything she truly hated, anything she thought was wrong. Now, looking at Isla, she could appreciate, for the first time, how lucky she’d been. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I know it isn’t your fault.”
“I do my best to make these last few days comfortable for you girls,” Isla said. “I think that’s all I can do.”
“Don’t you worry they’re going to do the same thing to you?” Maddy asked.
“No.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I’m not an omega.”
Of course she wasn’t. That made perfect sense. It explained why Isla—and all those other women—had been sitting around the alpha’s chamber with him instead of locked in cages. It explained why Isla was treated like a human being and Maddy was treated like an animal. She’s not worth as much money as me, she thought, and remembered how, as a child, she had been so proud of her value as an omega. She’s free, because no one would want to buy her.
Maddy would have given anything in the world to take her place.
She sat quietly as Isla rinsed her hair, scrubbed her skin with a brush, and helped her from the tub. Isla led her over to a stool, sat her down, and combed out her hair with slow strokes. After so many years living in a cage, it was hard not to mistake these gentle hands and kind gestures for affection. Maddy had to work hard to keep her mind centered. She’s not trying to help me, she reminded herself over and over as Isla combed. She doesn’t give a damn about me. She’s making me pretty so they can sell me for more money. That’s all.
She sat still as her hair, which must have grown wild over the years, was cut. Her head felt almost weightless as long chunks of it fell to the floor. She remained motionless when the hair dryer came out, blowing hot on her ears and the back of her neck. But as Isla bent to work on the dead skin at the soles of her feet, a question occurred to her. “Isla?”
“Hmm?”
“The men who come to these auctions. Who are they? Where do they come from?”
The look Isla gave her bordered on sympathy. “I know what you’re thinking,” she said.
“You don’t.”
“You’re remembering your family, right? Wondering if they’ll be coming to find you?”
Maddy felt as if the breath had been stolen from her throat. It was exactly what she had been wondering, although she would never have dared to articulate the thought, even to herself.
“They won’t come,” Isla said. “I’m sorry. Truly. I wish I could tell you something different.”
“How can you be sure?” Maddy asked, her heart sinking. She hated to let any of the Death Fangs—even Isla—see her this vulnerable, but she had to know. If there was even a chance, even the smallest hope that she could cling to—
But Isla was shaking her head. “I’m sure they don’t know about us,” she said. “The Death Fangs are secretive, Twenty-Two.”
“My name isn’t Twenty-Two.”
Isla ignored that. “We live outside the confines of the law,” she said. “The kind of family you grew up in, they don’t know anything about people like us. Only people living off the grid are going to show up to the auction.”
Dangerous people, Maddy thought. Not civilized people, like the pack she’d come from. Not people with jobs and friends and ordinary lives. People like the Death Fangs. Other criminals.
She drifted into her own thoughts, ignoring Isla as the work continued. If she had been paying attention, she would have registered her whole body being lotioned, her nails being trimmed and painted, and measurements of her figure being taken. But she paid no attention. She stood when she was told to stand and sat when she was told to sit, but her thoughts were miles away.
She couldn’t allow herself to be sold.
She was going to have to try to make an escape.
Chapter Three
Jamie carefully dialed in the combination to the safe where the Hell’s Wolves kept their savings. Every paycheck he brought home meant more money deposited here, but he hadn’t taken the trouble to count it in months. In part, he had to admit, he was afraid of what he might find.
The Death Fangs would be holding their annual omega auction tomorrow, and Jamie, Harley and Mark would be riding all morning and the better part of the afternoon to reach it. If they could manage to buy an omega this year, they could stop setting aside money for it, and that part of Jamie’s income could go back into things like feeding the pack.
The talk of Amy potentially leaving their pack had alarmed him more than he cared to admit. The brothers had found Amy wandering the streets of Boise when she was four years old. They’d been young then, just teenagers themselves, on their own for the first time, but when they’d caught her scent and realized she was a shifter, they’d brought her home to join their pack. They’d found Piper the year after, and Reese a couple of years after that. Having the kids with them made their pack feel like a family, and not just three lone wolves off on their own.
Of course, it was having the kids that had put them in such a bind financially. If they’d only had to worry about the three of them, Jamie’s salary and Harley’s occasional income would probably have been enough. But, he thought, growing their pack had been worth it.
It reminded Jamie
of the pack he’d belonged to growing up. Of having a mother and father of his own. Before they had died.
He brushed that feeling aside. This was no time to get sentimental. If they got an omega, everything would change for all of them, and their worries would be gone.
He pulled out the stacks of bills in the safe and weighed them in his hands, then counted them quickly. Five thousand dollars, plus a little extra.
He felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. This isn’t going to be enough.
Jamie and his brothers had ridden out to Oregon to attend the Death Fangs’ auction last year. Jamie had found the proceedings sickening, although Harley had watched with frank interest and Mark’s face had been set in that determined scowl of his. Jamie didn’t like to admit it, but the Death Fangs frightened him. They were the most powerful pack of wolf shifters in Oregon—Jamie had heard stories of rival packs eliminated in terrible, brutal fights. The Driscoll brothers were used to being the most powerful men in any room they entered, but standing on Death Fang turf, Jamie had felt vulnerable.
But if he felt vulnerable, that was nothing to how he supposed the omegas on the auction stage must feel. They had been dressed in sheer dresses that were almost transparent, leaving nothing to the imagination, and men walked along the stage squeezing them like pieces of fruit.
The Driscolls had found seats at the back of the auction and observed the proceedings. Most of the women were sold for prices in the neighborhood of twenty-five thousand dollars. Some, the more homely of the group, went for closer to ten thousand. And there had been one young and beautiful girl who had gotten a bid of fifty thousand. She had been led from the stage, shaking and crying, by a man twice her age.
It had been disturbing, to say the least. Jamie hadn’t discussed what he’d seen with either of his brothers. They had to have an omega, after all, a high quality one, and that meant doing business with the Death Fangs. Jamie had consoled himself with the thought that their woman, when they bought her, would be treated well. She wouldn’t have to worry about being abused. It was a better outcome than most of those omegas could hope for. So, weren’t they saving her, in a way?