The Hidden Omega

by Wilder, J. L.

  I try the door, even though I’m pretty sure it won’t work. Sure enough, it’s locked. “Help! Somebody help me!”

  The wall to my left shakes as if someone just kicked it. “Shut up!”

  I’m too terrified to take advice. “Help! I’ve been kidnapped!”

  “They’re still out there! Shut your mouth!”

  I can’t. I’m panting with fear. What is this place? What’s going to happen to us here?

  “Listen,” the voice says. It’s dropped very low. “Are you listening?”

  “Y-yes.” I’m shaking all over.

  “When they come back with a customer, you don’t want to be chosen. So, keep your damn mouth shut. I don’t know why I’m even helping you. I should let them take you. Better you than me.”

  “Take me where?”

  My neighbor doesn’t answer. Maybe she’s decided against giving me any more assistance.

  It feels like forever before anything happens. I’m leaning against the wall of my prison, half awake, and the door opens. I blink up at my captors, feeling stupid.

  Four men, all bulky with muscle and sporting thick beards, look down at me. “She’s new?” one of them says.

  “Just picked her up last night,” another says. “She was camping by the side of the road. Totally clean. Not purchased from another house or anything. You’ll be the first to have her.”

  The first man whistles. “That’s quite a treat. I’d give you five hundred dollars for that.”

  “Five hundred? Are you high? Two thousand.”

  “For two thousand she better do something real special,” the first man grumbles, but he pulls a wad of cash out of his pocket and counts out some bills into the second man’s palm. Then he turns to me. “All right, girlie. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  I scramble into the back corner of my stall. I understand what’s going on now, and the panic coursing through me is like nothing I’ve ever felt. I don’t want this man to touch me. I’ve enjoyed sex in the past, yes, but this is not that. This is completely different.

  The man grins. “That’s how you play, is it? We can play, darlin’.” He closes in on me, showing his teeth. Some of them are missing. Some are rotten, turning grotesque shades of yellow and brown.

  I wait for him to get close and then scamper past him, trying for the door. But just as I think I’ve made it, one of my captors catches me and tosses me back in. I land hard on one shoulder, but I pick myself up quickly. The man is closing in on me again. His hands come up, reaching for me, and I know he’s about to grab me and that once he does I’ll have very little chance of getting away.

  I bring up my knee into his groin and connect hard. He doubles over with a howl of pain. The door to my cell flies open and the two other bearded men rush in. One of them takes the arm of the man I hit and helps him out, apologizing. The other grabs me by the shoulders and shakes me so hard my teeth rattle.

  “He was one of our regulars, girl!” The man backhands me so hard I see stars and then hurls me away from him. I trip, fall backward, land on my side on the concrete floor. A sharp shock of pain blurs my vision, and I only just manage not to cry out. The man advances on me and kicks me hard in the ribs, and the toe of his boot feels like a rock. I’m dizzy with the pain of it. I curl my arms over my head, elbows out, protecting myself against further attacks.

  The man spits on me —I feel the wet glob of it strike my shoulder —and storms out of my cell, throwing the door closed behind him. I can’t help it —tears are streaming down my face now. I’m shaking. I should have stayed with my family. I should have known better than to run. I’d take a dozen beatings from Georgianne if I could go back now, get away from this nightmare of a place. I might have avoided being sold today, but sooner or later the people who operate this place are going to give me to a stranger, a man off the street, to use as he sees fit. I imagine weeks passing in this cell. Maybe months. God, maybe even years. I imagine dozens, maybe hundreds of men, visiting me, having their way, laughing and pulling my hair and forever ruining terms of endearment by using them on me as they violate me. Who will I become? What will this place turn me into?

  As the adrenaline fades, I become more aware of the pain in my side. I think some of my ribs are broken. It’s almost impossible to find a comfortable position in which to sleep. I end up, finally, propped in the corner where two walls meet, tears drying on my face, hoping against hope that the family I ran away from is somewhere out there taking steps to try to bring me back. It’s the only chance of rescue I have.

  Chapter Eight

  LANE

  I wake up to the sound of fighting.

  Grunts as punches are thrown. Someone shouting words I don’t understand. The splintering of wood and the sickening sound of a body falling onto the concrete. I scramble to my feet, ignoring the searing pain that stabs through my ribs, and look out the hole in my door.

  The group of men in the barn has grown. It looks like there are six now instead of three. The fight is chaotic, and I can’t figure out who’s on whose side. I don’t know if I can anticipate kindness from any of these men. I don’t know what outcome would be best for me, who I should be hoping to see win.

  Then again, maybe there is no positive outcome for me. Maybe I’d just be trading one hell for another. I slink back into the recesses of my cell. It’s too hard to watch the violence and know that when this is all over, one of these groups of men will still have power over me.

  Until yesterday, my life contained no violence at all. Since then, it’s been nonstop. I wrap my arms around my wounded ribs and will them to heal up soon. I don’t think I could run right now. I don’t think I’d have any chance at getting away.

  After a while, the fight seems to stop. I can hear voices now, cursing in astonished tones, but I can’t make out whether they belong to the newcomers or my original captors. I hear doors being opened up and down the sides of the barn. I hear footsteps, some of them running, too many to belong to just the men. What are they doing to the girls?

  Then my door swings open.

  I’m looking up at a slight man with olive skin and black hair. His dark eyes are enormous in his face, and he’s staring down at me as if he’s just seen a ghost.

  “Oh, shit,” is all he says.

  I can’t find the words to respond to that. I look up at him, trying to take shelter in the corner of my little pen, silently begging him to leave me alone.

  “Bruno,” he calls, “you’d better come and take a look at this.”

  He’s joined in the doorway by another dark-haired man, this one with lighter skin. The newcomer stands about a foot taller than the first man and has an incredibly muscular body. Despite my fear, I feel a wave of attraction wash over me as I regard him. I know he’s a threat to me, but there’s something almost hot about that.

  “What is it, Mike?” he asks.

  “Look at her,” the first man —Mike —says. “I think she’s one of us.”

  That drives a spike of terror through my heart. Whoever they are, I am not one of them. I just want to be free. I want all these horrible people to leave me alone. If these new men think I belong with them, they’ll kidnap me and take me away.

  Mike’s friend regards me analytically. “Are you a shifter?” he asks finally.

  “Am I a what?” I have no idea what he’s talking about.

  The man turns back to Mike, shakes his head. “She’s not one.”

  “Look at her, Bruno,” Mike insists. “And... smell. Don’t you smell that?”

  Is he seriously smelling me? Sure enough, Bruno sniffs the air cautiously. He gives me a funny look. “Are you sure you aren’t a shifter?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say. I feel like I’m going to cry. “Who are you? I just want to go home, please. Please leave me alone.”

  “Where’s home?” Bruno asks.

  “Quebec City,” I lie. It’s the nearest town. If I can get there, maybe I can find some kind of safety. />
  “We’ll give you a ride,” Bruno says.

  “I don’t want a ride,” I say. “I want to be left alone.”

  “It’s not safe on the streets for a pretty young woman like you,” he says. “You could be picked up by people like this again. You don’t want that. Besides, you’re hurt. Let us get you to a hospital, at least.”

  A third man comes up behind Mike and Bruno. He takes me in. “Whoa. You found a shifter? Is she coming with us?”

  “I’m not a shifter!” I burst into tears, to my own horror, causing the three of them to step back and stare at me. “Why do you all keep calling me that? What is it? What are you going to do to me?”

  Bruno glances from one of his friends to the other. Then he kneels down in front of me. “We’re not going to do anything to you,” he says. “We’re not going to hurt you. I promise.”

  “Then let me go.”

  He bites his lip and looks regretful. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I have to get you somewhere safe first. If I just let you walk out of this barn, you’ll be picked up again within the hour. This stretch of highway is a mess.”

  “You let the others go,” I point out. I can see past him, out into the barn. All the other girls are gone. It’s just me and these three men now. “What do you want with me?”

  Bruno hesitates. “If you give me a chance, I can explain that. I really can. But I think we should get out of here before someone comes. I don’t know if there were more of these guys. Please, come with us. Let us help. What’s your name?”

  I don’t want to tell him. I don’t want to give him anything. But maybe if he sees me as human, he’ll be less inclined to hurt me. “Lane.”

  “Lane, I’m Bruno,” he says. He holds out a hand to me. “Come on back to our place and let’s just talk, okay? We’ll give you a place to sleep tonight, and in the morning if you still want to leave, we won’t try to stop you.”

  I absolutely do not want to go with Bruno and his friends. They’re strangers, and bigger than me, and I know they probably can’t be trusted. But he’s right about one thing —I do need a place to sleep tonight. I’m out of options. I don’t want to go back to camping by the side of the road, because that’s what got me here in the first place. And I could stay here in this stall, I suppose, but that would be a nightmare. I can still feel the horror rising up my spine at the realization that I was being sold to a man for his use. Whatever these men want with me, it can’t be any worse than that.

  I take his extended hand and let him help me to my feet. “I can leave in the morning?”

  “You can leave whenever you want,” he assures me. “You’re not a prisoner.”

  I still don’t trust this. But if I am being taken captive, at least my new captors are kinder than the last. I wipe the tears from my cheeks and hobble forward out into the light.

  And balk. There, in the open doorway to the barn, are three motorcycles. Mike is walking toward one of them, and the third man I saw through the hole in my door is perched on another.

  I shrink back. “You’re bikers.”

  Bruno hesitates. “Are you afraid of bikes? We have helmets. It’ll be all right.”

  “You’re with them.” I can hear my voice rising in pitch as the panic sets in again. “You’re taking me for — for —” I can’t say it. I can’t get my mouth to form around the terrible word. I’m shaking all over, suddenly, fiercely, and that horrible man’s hands feel as if they’re still on me, and Bruno —

  Bruno is letting go.

  “Clay,” he calls, “bring a jacket. Your big fleece one.” he turns back to me. “Sit down. I think you might be going into shock.” He takes a deep breath. “Those men were dealing in prostitution, weren’t they? That’s why they had so many women in this place?”

  I can’t talk. My mouth is dry and my head is spinning. I manage a nod.

  The third man comes over and drapes a huge warm jacket around my shoulders. He’s bigger even than Bruno, but with curly blond hair and kind eyes. “Is she all right?”

  “She will be. Do we have any water left?”

  He nods and disappears and I get the feeling that Bruno is very much in charge of this group.

  “Take your time,” Bruno says. “When you feel ready, we’ll head over to the bikes. Our hotel isn’t too far from here.”

  Hotel. If I’d stayed in a hotel, none of this would have happened. Now my backpack with all my supplies, with my money roll, is miles away, wherever I built my campfire. I lean forward and rest my forehead on my knees, trying to recover myself. I hate being vulnerable in front of these people. I want them to think I could fight them off if I needed to.

  I feel myself being pulled to my feet. For some reason, I can hardly keep my eyes open, and I stagger as I try to walk. A strong arm slips around my waist. I don’t bother trying to push it away. The hold on me is gentle, and Bruno’s voice is soft and close in my ear. “Just about a mile up the highway, and then you can sleep, okay?”

  Maybe I nod. I’m not sure.

  It should terrify me to be back on a motorcycle, unable to move, in the arms of a man again, but I guess I’m just too exhausted to think straight right now. I lean into his shoulder. He’s warm. He smells like leather and soap, and that smell is the first thing about him that makes me think I might actually be safe. I don’t know why. It just seems...civilized.

  Civilized and comforting.

  The road rolls by beneath us and the engine roars, and Bruno feels very big and very sturdy. I find I’m actually disappointed when it comes to an end. I’m expecting him to shake me a little, to let me know we’ve arrived, but he dismounts the bike and sweeps me into his arms in one careful move. “She’s sleeping,” he says quietly.

  I feel like I should tell him I’m awake, but the air around me is too thick and my eyelids are too heavy. Maybe I am asleep. Maybe I’m dreaming.

  The cool night wind gives way to artificial air. It tastes different in my lungs. The men are setting things down, moving things around, and after a moment I feel a soft mattress giving way beneath me. A hand slides under my head, lifting it, and a pillow is placed there. A blanket, rough but warm, lands over me.

  I shouldn’t let go of consciousness. Not surrounded by strange men like this. Anything could happen. Tonight, has certainly taught me that.

  But I’m slipping, being pulled deeper and deeper by the moment, becoming so heavy that I know there’s no chance of clawing my way back up. All I can do is hope. There have to be good people in the world, right? Maybe these three are some of them.

  Just before I lose the thread entirely, a voice says quietly, “you’re sure she’s a shifter?” and someone replies, but I’m too far gone to catch what he says.

  Chapter Nine

  BRUNO

  “I’m telling you, I smelled it on her,” Mike says. “She’s shifted, and recently. She’s definitely one of us.”

  Clay looks doubtful. “But she said she wasn’t?”

  Mike shrugs. “She was lying. Who could blame her after being in that place? I wouldn’t have told us anything personal about myself either. She clearly thought we were trying to kidnap her into a different prostitution ring.” He looks me. “Is everyone in the province just running prostitution rings now? We’re way out of the Red Zone.”

  “I had no idea it was as prevalent as this,” I say, wiping a hand down my face. It was pure luck that we stumbled across that barn tonight on our way to look for a diner —luck for the women trapped inside, that is. Not so much for the men we sent running into the night, cursing us and vowing revenge. Although, really, they should be grateful we dealt with them ourselves instead of calling the police. It was a mistake, maybe. They’re still out on the street. But I was just so focused on getting those women out of there that I wasn’t thinking straight. “Maybe there’s some kind of connection.”

  “Connection?” Clay asks.

  “Well, I don’t know. Prostitution is growing more widespread. Harlan was never involved in it before —t
he Hell’s Bears have never succumbed to that kind of thing. Maybe there’s some kind of kingpin.”

  Mike shakes his head. “Regardless, what are we going to do about her?” He motions toward Lane, who’s passed out on one of the hotel beds. We’ve piled a couple of blankets on top of her, but she’s pale and shivering. “Do you think she needs a hospital?

  I move to her side and take her wrist in my hand. “Her pulse is back to normal. I think she’ll be all right by morning.”

  “And you’re really just going to let her go?” Mike asks.

  “What would you have me do?” I shoot back. “Keep her prisoner? And why do you keep talking as if it’s up to me?”

  “I’m not doing that,” Mike says.

  “Yes, you are. You both are.”

  “You haven’t noticed it?” Clay asks him.

  I turn to him. “You’re saying you have?”

  He shrugs. “It’s felt like you’re in charge since we left Harlan. Following you is comfortable. I guess I sort of fell into it. But it feels the way following Harlan did, when he wasn’t giving orders. When he was just... you know. Leading.”

  Following Harlan has never felt anything like comfortable. “Are you saying I’m pushing you around?”

  “No.” Clay tugs at his hair in frustration. “That’s the opposite of what I mean. It’s like, I don’t know. Like eating when I’m hungry. It feels like it’s what I’m supposed to be doing.”

  Mike’s eyes go wide. “He’s the alpha.”

  “I’m not an alpha,” I protest.

  “Yes, you are. Clay’s right, that is what it feels like. I didn’t notice until he pointed it out. You’ve been leading us, and we’ve been following you, because that’s what comes naturally. Because you’re our alpha now.”

  “I can’t just be your alpha,” I say. I’m feeling angry and I’m not sure why. “You don’t get to choose your alpha. Alphas are born. I’ve always been a beta. I’ve always followed Harlan. That doesn’t change just because we’re not in his house anymore.”