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The commune was surrounded by mountains on three sides, which meant there was one road in and one road out, and it was easily defensible. High pine and cedar trees provided a canopy of cover from any planes or helicopters that might pass by, and I’d learned a while back that the land beyond the concrete fence was also owned by the commune.
The meeting place was in the largest building within the walls. Directly in the center of the property, it was able to accommodate the two hundred and sixty-eight people who lived here. The High Alpha lived on the floor above the meeting space—the only area powered by a generator. His wives lived in a small cabin at the back of the property, tucked out of sight until they were called upon, either to his bed or to be paraded around in front of his people as the trophies they represented.
There were a few families who had their own cabins, and a large men’s barrack for the betas and foot soldiers of the group. A smaller women’s cabin was across from it, and tucked very far behind that was the tiny, single room cabin I shared with Logan.
As Morris and I walked the long path to the meeting cabin, my arm brushed against his, and for a second, I considered leaning into his warmth. The muted scents of freshly laundered linens and lavender seemed at odds with the massive beta, who looked like he could easily take down an alpha or five himself. It was part of the reason Morris had been moved up to the ranks of the Beta Elite—the betas most trusted by the High Alpha and Shepherds. They mostly handled security and any fights that broke out.
Morris was relatively new to the group. He’d arrived four months earlier, but he’d made himself known, carving out a place with his sheer physicality and ability to know when a fight was about to break out amongst the lesser betas. I’d watched him from the fringes until he’d been assigned to my personal guard detail with other betas who had proven themselves vicious and skilled fighters. The type of betas who would stand up to a rogue alpha trying to snatch the High Alpha’s chosen mate.
And yet despite that, there was something about Morris that made me feel safe. I was blaming whatever form of Stockholm Syndrome that had me crushing on him on omega hormones. It was why I didn’t flinch when my arm touched his. Why I almost leaned into him, craving more of his scent.
But as soon as my skin made contact with his, he stepped seamlessly to the right, adding an extra six inches to the distance between us.
Tears pricked the backs of my eyes. It was so stupid. So insanely, irrationally stupid, but I missed touch. I missed the feel of warm skin against mine. Of comfort and hugs.
Things that, according to every health book I’d read in school prior to being yanked out by my uncle, an omega needed to thrive.
Ducking my head into the wind, I tugged the elastic from my auburn hair so it fell free, tumbling around my face. It afforded me a modicum of privacy as I reconciled—not for the first time—that I was disappointed my captors didn’t touch me.
Being an omega sucked.
It wasn’t fluffy nests, protective alphas, and being pampered daily like the media portrayed it.
Okay, maybe that was a little harsh. Calla had been treated like a princess. But, to be fair, her dads, older brothers, and mom all treasured her as the baby of their pack. She could have been a basic beta and they still would have loved and adored her.
The way my parents had loved and adored me.
So, maybe being an omega just sucked if you were stolen from people who would have loved you and sold to a sadistic monster with a god complex.
The truth soured in my stomach, and I looked up at Morris from the corner of my eye. The question slipped out before I could stop myself. “How is he?”
I didn’t have to clarify who he was.
It was no secret that the only person I gave a shit about behind these walls was Logan.
Which was exactly what the High Alpha counted on.
The first time the High Alpha kissed me, the night he’d declared I would be his fifth wife, I’d taken it. I’d accepted his disgusting tongue in my mouth and the hands that groped my ass.
He did that for years at various functions when he’d parade me out for his loyal followers to see, and I took it for over two years.
Until the night a year ago that he didn’t stop at kissing my lips while gripping my ass. His scent had been sharper, more potent. Now I knew he was going into rut—a time when alphas went a little haywire and became extremely sexually aggressive.
In a room full of prying, excited eyes, he’d started to peel down my dress. The first press of his fingers inside my pussy had me biting down on his tongue. The taste of his blood dripped into my mouth before he ripped his lips away, glaring at me like a feral animal with his chest heaving.
Everyone had been horrified, and I still remembered the hush that fell across the crowd gathered.
And I fought back the only way I knew how.
I braced myself, expecting violence. Expecting pain and humiliation—two things he loved inflicting—and it never came.
It was what followed next that would haunt me the rest of my life.
The High Alpha smiled at me through blood-stained teeth, his expression full of condescension as he regarded me like a wayward child needing to be brought to heel.
And then he’d had Logan brought to the center of the meeting.
Logan’s entire body trembled, his scrawny arms held to the point of bruising by two of the Shepherds. His wide blue eyes looked at me, full of fear.
