The Night Movers, page 30
Pain and sadness lanced through Ridley’s heart. “Do you really think that?”
“Yes!” he snapped, before sheepishly following it up with, “No. Fuck, I don’t know. I haven’t been sure of a single fucking thing since you bulldozed your way into our lives. You shouldn’t ask me questions right now, Strawberry. If I’m in pre-rut, I’m gonna be way too honest and I’m gonna hurt your feelings.”
“You could just, I don’t know, not hurt my feelings,” Ridley said, elbowing the alpha in the ribs.
Steele shifted positions slightly. Ridley cried out, Steele’s knot tugging on him from the inside. Steele kissed behind his ear almost like an apology, then moved away like the action embarrassed him.
Silence stretched between them while Ridley contemplated Steele’s accusation. Finally, he said, “Not to point fingers, but you guys kidnapped me,” Ridley reminded him. “I’m the victim here.”
Steele snorted. “You’ve never been a victim a day in your life, Strawberry. There’s not a single situation you’ve found yourself in that you didn’t orchestrate yourself. You’re a schemer. You scheme,” he said accusingly. “You never cower. You attack first and hit hard. You have the ego of an alpha.” He pulled Ridley back onto his cock, making him moan. “The only omega thing about you is this greedy little hole that’s never full enough to satisfy you.”
Ridley’s skin was on fire from his assessment. “Scheming? You think I’m scheming?” Ridley asked, a little breathless from Steele’s movements, trying not to grind back on him and prove his point. “I’m just trying to find my sister. I’ve been upfront about that from the beginning. I’ll do whatever it takes to find her.”
Steele went still at the mention of Ren, then sighed heavily, tightening his hold on Ridley. Was he…hugging him? The heavy weight of the alpha pressed against him soothed something deep inside that Ridley hadn’t even known was agitated.
Still, his heart sank. Why was Steele being so nice unless… “Do you—Do you know what happened to her? Are you all trying to hide it from me? Is she….dead?”
The word came out almost like a gasp, the thought of it ripping a hole in his chest.
Steele sighed. “We wouldn’t keep that information from you. But I’m gonna be honest with you, Strawberry. If she’s as mouthy as you are…I don’t know how much of her will be left if you find her. If the new guard sold her off to traffickers like they did you, she might not have even made it a single night.”
Ridley knew all this. Steele wasn’t giving him any new information. That didn’t stop him from poking the wound. “What if one of the other packs sold her? Rain said he hadn’t seen anyone matching her description, but maybe they’d already”—he shuddered—“sold her off? Maybe they didn’t choose to keep her as one of their…pets.”
“Do you really want the answer to this?” Steele asked gently.
Ridley swallowed the lump in his throat, then nodded. He was going to force Steele to say it all out loud, anyway. To break his heart. To shatter all his delusions. “Yeah,” he managed when he realized Steele couldn’t see him in the inky darkness. “It’s the not knowing that’s eating me alive.”
Steele grunted in disbelief, but he didn’t press. He just said, “When the new guard takes an omega, they only end up in a few places…with us or with one of the other packs. Those packs sell their omegas to one of three places: the brothels, the breeding farms, or a private collector. I’m not sure any of those are better than death.”
“But that means she’s still alive,” Ridley said, voice trembling.
“Is she the type to just go along meekly?” Steele murmured, his fingers starting to trace patterns on Ridley’s bare arm.
Ridley’s stomach sloshed. “No. Not at all.”
Ren was always his protector, even when he didn’t need one. She’d taken over the role of his mother long before Ridley could even really comprehend that was what she’d done. They were twins, but she’d always been the most responsible. She was the reason they ate, the reason they had a roof over their heads, the reason they had survived all these years. Sometimes, he forgot they were the same age, that they’d shared the same womb. She had always seemed like an adult to him, and he never stopped feeling like a child. Even now, he was just floundering through life, a leaf picked up by the wind and blown about.
“I’m not saying this to be mean, Strawberry. In a way, I know what it’s like to be in your position, but there really are some things worse than death. The breeding farms…the private collectors, they’re the worst. The brothel might tolerate her for a week or two, thinking they can tame her. My guess is they would be wrong.”
Tears leaked from his eyes, rolling down his cheeks and soaking Steele’s mattress. He didn’t stop them. Steele could probably smell them, anyway. Ridley had heard all the horror stories about what happened in those places, but they were told like ghost stories, like urban legends whispered in the dark. He’d met no one who had actually seen a place like that.
“What are they like? The…breeding farms? Are they as horrid as everyone says?”
Steele’s grip seemed to tighten instinctively, like he wanted to protect Ridley. “Worse.”
Steele’s knot slipped free, followed by a flood of cum and slick. Ridley grimaced, but couldn’t get away. Steele was holding him too tight to flee. At least, that was what Ridley told himself as he rolled over in his arms, burying his face in Steele’s chest.
“Tell me,” Ridley begged.
Steele flipped onto his back, taking Ridley with him, letting him starfish on top of him as he covered him with a blanket, protecting his damp skin from the chill in the room.
“Why torture yourself?” Steele asked, stroking Ridley’s hair.
“What if it was your sister? Would you want to know?” Ridley asked.
“I don’t know,” Steele said, his shoulder shrugging beneath Ridley’s head. “Why are you so desperate to hear this?”
“Because I can’t feel her anymore,” he said, horrified when the words came out around a ragged sob. “I can’t feel her at all. There’s just this icy cold emptiness that never goes away.”
Steele nuzzled Ridley’s neck, inhaling deeply before licking the spot. “What do you mean?”
“We’re twins. From the time I was born, I could feel her. I could sense her. Sometimes, if it was quiet enough, I could hear her. But no matter what, there was always this…current. This low warm hum of energy that never went away. But now, it’s just…silent. My head has never been so quiet and I’m cold all the time. I hate it. I hate it so much.”
“I’m sorry, Strawberry. I really am. But if you can’t hear her anymore, there are only two possibilities.”
Two? Ridley thought he was just going to tell him that Ren was already gone. Somehow, two seemed worse.
“Two?” he finally echoed aloud.
He felt Steele nod, his lips pressing hot against Ridley’s clammy skin. “She’s either dead or she’s in a place so bad she doesn’t want you to suffer along with her. I suspect it’s the former. I pray it’s not the latter.”
“What are the breeding farms really like?” Ridley asked again. When Steele hesitated, Ridley said, “Yes, I’m sure. Just tell me.”
Steele took a deep breath and let it out, ruffling Ridley’s hair. “The omegas are stripped and thrown into cages for the first two to three weeks. Over that time, they’re sedated, raped, beaten, used as much as possible to break them.”
Ridley bit down on his lip, but his whine broke free, followed by a choked sob. “Go on.”
Steele was breathing heavily. “Once they’ve made them pliable, they’re tied to beds with different alphas using them as often as possible. Usually, it’s their kidnappers, but sometimes, it’s men who pay money for the experience.”
Ridley’s tears were just pouring onto Steele’s chest now, but the other man was being nice enough to ignore it.
“Once they’re pregnant, they’re moved to a cell where they’re heavily monitored, every decision controlled by their kidnappers. Once the baby is born, they’re taken from their mother to a baby broker who finds a seller for the baby. The mother is given twelve weeks to recover, then the process starts all over again.”
“How long do they get to stay with their babies?”
“They don’t, Strawberry. They don’t want to give them time to bond. And not because it’s more humane, not that the mother suffers less, but because they know that omegas who lose a bonded baby will often mutilate themselves or end their lives.”
“Monsters,” Ridley whispered.
“Fertile omegas can produce a child a year.”
“But at what fucking cost?” Ridley asked, not really expecting an answer.
“The costs are negligible. Understand, Strawberry, you can only sell a bag of drugs once. You only sell a gun once. But you can sell an omega repeatedly. If you give them just enough to stay alive, the profits are astronomical.”
“That’s disgusting,” Ridley muttered, stomach bubbling.
“They aren’t omegas to these people, they’re livestock. No different from breeding a milk cow over and over again.”
Ridley sniffled, his nose stuffy and his eyes burning. “Are the brothels better?”
Steele stiffened beneath him. Had he mentioned the brothels to Ridley or had Titus? Was he supposed to keep that a secret? Fuck. He couldn’t think in this haze.
“They’re not worse…” Steele hedged. “In a decent brothel, an omega will only have to service five or six clients a night. In bad ones, the numbers could be as high as thirteen or fourteen. In decent brothels, the omegas have food, clothing, shelter provided, friends who watch their back…they even get to see doctors.”
“That sounds better,” Ridley admitted, something loosening in his chest.
“In bad brothels, girls have to earn food, clothes, and a roof over their heads. They’re paid a bit of money, but charged a fortune for necessities, ensuring they’ll never catch up and they’re always deeply indebted to their traffickers. They essentially become slaves. They’re often subjected to beatings, from owners and from clients. So, really, is that better?”
Ren was rare like him. Alphas coveted redheads in places like brothels, where they weren’t bound by the niceties of societal law. They considered them exotic. Maybe they’d taken her even if she’d given them problems…or maybe they sold her to a private collector.
“What about private collectors? Could she have ended up with one of them?”
“I hope not,” Steele said. “But I’m not gonna talk about the private collectors, not tonight. Not after the night you’ve had. It’s only seven a.m.—get some real sleep. You haven’t had any real rest in forever.”
“You almost sound like you care about me,” Ridley said quietly, sliding off him to return to lying beside him.
“I could…if I let myself.”
“But you won’t let yourself?” Ridley asked, feeling his heart cracking like cement.
Steele’s voice dripped with bitterness as he said, “Not when the world is as fucked up as it is. It’s just not worth it.”
Ridley wanted to ask more questions, but Steele flooded him with calming pheromones. “Not fair…” he slurred, but he could barely keep his eyes open. “I…”
He was asleep before he finished his sentence.
The scent of bacon dragged Ridley from his sleep, his stomach growling loudly. Was he dreaming? Hallucinating? He cracked his eyes open to find a strip of meat dangling just over the tip of his nose almost threateningly. He frowned, looking around. He was no longer in Steele’s bed but his own. When had Steele carried him back?
Oh, well. He’d rather spend his morning with Rain, anyway. Ridley stretched, cataloging every ache and pain in his body after last night. His joints popped loudly, a high-pitched sound escaping with his effort to stretch every muscle and tendon at once. Rain giggled at the sound, pulling his hand back to allow Ridley to wrestle himself into a sitting position. Once he was upright, he opened up obediently for Rain to pop the bacon into his mouth. He moaned in ecstasy, eyes closed so he could savor the salty sweetness for as long as possible.
Ridley had only had bacon twice in his life, but he could confidently say it was better than sex.
“Are you a wizard or something?” Ridley teased as he chewed. “Did you magic yourself something to eat?”
Rain flushed, smiling shyly as he shook his head, stuffing his mouth with a large piece of bread drenched in butter and some kind of red jelly. Ridley huffed a quiet laugh as he watched Rain attempt to chew the food now stored in his puffed-out cheeks. He looked like the squirrels that used to exist back in the day.
“Are you not talking to me today?” Ridley asked once the boy swallowed, nudging him softly with his shoulder.
Rain shrugged, his voice just above a whisper as he said, “I don’t know when I’m allowed to speak and when I’m not.”
His words pierced Ridley’s soul. He would never say his life had been easy. Like most people living in the district, he’d grown up with nothing, living on meager government rations and the occasional rat or rodent dumb enough to show themselves in their presence. But he’d never lived as someone else’s property. He’d never had his life dictated by others’ whims. Considering everything Rain had endured, he was shockingly resilient. Ridley just wanted him to have some happiness.
“If we’re in here, you can talk to me whenever you want. Out there”—Ridley gestured vaguely—“it’s just better to let them do the talking…or so they tell me.”
Rain nodded, then offered Ridley a bite of his other piece of bread, smiling when Ridley made another happy sound. The jam was made of raspberries, and the sweetness made him a little dizzy. When he finished chewing, he inspected the rest of the food on the tray before them, noting a pile of scrambled eggs, more bacon, oatmeal—Ridley’s usual meal—and fruit.
Actual fruit.
How rich were these alphas? Clothes and jewelry were one thing, but eggs? Meat? Fruit? Vegetables? Clean water? Those were rarer than any gem or precious metal. The oligarchs hoarded those things; they deliberately made it so that food only grew on their lands, tended by their servants, the seeds kept hidden in safes like stacks of cash.
They’d turned food and water into luxury items years ago, then priced them as such, ensuring the end of the middle class and the return of peasants and indentured servitude. In the beginning, they’d allowed them all a limited supply of fruits and vegetables, but they’d genetically modified them so that there were no seeds, making sure they couldn’t grow their own.
Now, the 0.001% lived behind sky-high walls covered in razor wire, while the rest lived on only what the government allotted them. Monthly rations of rice, potato flakes, hot cereals…protein supplements that made up for the nutrients their food lacked. They would have stopped feeding them entirely—would have let them die off like they did the weak, the elderly, the infirm—but they needed someone to do the labor. They needed them just well enough to slave in the heat, but not well enough to revolt. They were shockingly precise in their evil.
They didn’t even feel bad about it. They’d bred what little humanity existed in that class away long before the old U.S. fell. The oligarchs were sociopaths. They believed that the poor were parasites, sucking away their resources, but it was really the other way around. They just didn’t know because they’d made capitalism their religion and they killed in its name without remorse.
Omegas like Ridley were only good enough to clean their houses, cook their meals, raise their children. Even poor alphas were considered nothing more than animals, their strength used to ease the lives of the rich. Which was why Ridley didn’t understand how Titus and the others had access to so much. Money was one thing. He saw the way those betas had thrown cash at them. But where were they getting their food? How did they have access to clean water? Hot water? Electricity down here in this abandoned hotel? It couldn’t be bartering. Could it? If so, what the fuck were they trading worthy of all this?
“They must really like you,” Ridley said with a gentle smile. “Nobody offered me this kind of food when I arrived.”
Rain blushed. “Jensen brought it.” When Ridley gave him a knowing look, he hurried to add, “He said it was for both of us.”
Ridley grinned. “Oh? Is that why my pretty little pet is so giggly?” he teased. “Jensen brought you a courting gift?”
Rain flushed from his neck to the roots of his hair. “No,” he cried. “I—He’s just nice.”
“To you,” Ridley finished.
Rain’s eyes went wide. “Is he not nice to you?”
Ridley opened his mouth to say he was kidding, then thought about it. Jensen did seem pretty nice, but he didn’t really know any of them. The others had made an effort to get to know Ridley, but Jensen and Ryker stuck close together. They both seemed similar in temperament and interests. They were both deep thinkers. Maybe they had a thing with each other?
Alpha-alpha couples existed, but they were rare. Oftentimes, they spent too much time fighting for dominance.
But Jensen and Ryker were both freakishly level-headed. It was as hot as it was unusual.
“He’s actually really nice,” Ridley finally confirmed, watching the tension bleed from Rain at that.
They fell silent after that, opting to spend their time enjoying their surprise breakfast rather than wasting it talking about alphas. They ignored the provided wooden forks and spoons, opting to feed each other with their hands.
They ate until there was nothing left, both of them staring forlornly at the now empty tray. Ridley contemplated licking the plate clean, but then thought better of it. Only when he got to his feet did he note that Steele had dressed him in one of his oversized button-down shirts and nothing else. What had happened to his clothes from last night? What had he even been wearing last night?
He set the tray on the dresser, flushing as flashes of the previous evening returned in bits and pieces. He’d been so desperate, so clingy, begging and pleading for Steele’s attention. For his pups. Oh, god. That was so embarrassing. Though, it was hot in the moment.
