Page 31 of Epsilon Criminal


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“What happened?” Ryon’s voice was full of concern.

“That rank bastard Urgoth has fucked me up medically to make me work for him.”

The expression on Ryon’s face made it clear he was shocked by this.

“What did he do?”

“He’s made the doctor implant me with something that makes me infertile. He said he’llthinkabout taking it out if I complete this assignment. Fuckin’ bastard! And he was so shitty about it.”

“How?”

The anger bubbled up inside me as I remembered what Urgoth had said. The way he’d talked to me like I was dog shit.

“His exact words were, “what alpha would want to rut with a feral, infertile omega who doesn’t even look like one?” You should have seen his face. He was loving it.”

Ryon said nothing. When I looked up at him, I saw his face had gone white with rage. I’d never seen anyone so angry.

“He had no right to do that.” Ryon’s voice was quiet but I got the sense that he was trying to suppress his fury.

“Well he has, and he thinks it’s up to him when I’m allowed to go free and live my life. I asked for nothing of this. He dragged me into it. I’m ragin’.” I gestured wildly as I talked, and some of the tea spilled out of my cup. I put it down and wiped up the mess with a ragged cloth by the sink. Some things were apparently universal.

“I know.” That was all Ryon said. Did he get why I was so hacked off about this? I wasn’t entirely sure where my reaction came from, since I hadn’t known I wanted kids. Until now.

“All I asked was whether I should really hand over this vaporizer to the betas if it’s so dangerous. He wants me to deliver the vaporizer to them. And he doesn’t care if it kills someone.” I realized Ryon might not understand why this bothered me, given that he was an assassin.

“It’s not right, but you need to complete your mission. Any blood is on Urgoth’s hands, not yours.” He was starting to sound like a social worker. A social worker who killed people. I frowned at the weird mental image.

I glared at him. “Is that how you sleep at night? You tell yourself anything you did is Urgoth’s fault? He’s scum, but he’s not holding your hand and pulling the trigger, is he? I saw the way you killed that bloke who came in here. You thought nothing of taking his life. It’s nothing to you, is it?”

Ryon gave me a tortured look. “Is that all you think of me? That I’m an indiscriminate killer? I thought you were more intelligent than that.”

He left the kitchen and a minute later, I heard the front door slamming. I filled my cup with boiling water and frowned in confusion.

If the hot water was working in the kitchen, why had I needed to take a cold bath? This flat was so fucked up. Everything here was. Especially Ryon. It wasn’t my fault he couldn’t handle being told what his job was. He was a twat. They were all twats. Fuck all of them.

“I didn’t fucking want babies anyway you tosser!” I shouted at the sky. Then I realized I was turning into one of those people no one wanted to live near.

I sat down on the couch with my drink and tried to work out my next move.

On one hand, I could deliver the weapon and be a good fucking lapdog, try not to think about the implications, and hope that Urgoth would stay true to his word and let me go, soon. On the other, what was stopping me just walking off? If I was so undesirable, even as an omega, no one would bother me. I could just disappear, like I did in Glasgow when my step-father hit me for the last time ever.

Fuck them all.

I still had some cash from what Ghil had paid me earlier. Not caring that they weren’t clean, I pulled on my trousers and buttoned up Ryon’s shirt so it was more like an oversized tunic. I pocketed the vaporizer just in case I needed to scare someone away. I didn’t really have anything else to take. There was no point walking around with a fancy party dress or nice shoes, so I left those on Ryon’s bed. They would just be more crap to carry.

I never should have bought them. Never should have believed I’d ever be welcome at a fancy party, or fit in. The people here were all users. They just wanted to take, take, take. And I didn’t feel like giving any more of myself.

Too angry to really let go of this, I went out. There were vending machines all over the place. I didn’t even need to show my face in shops to get food.

I walked down several streets and the scenery changed. Rust gave way to painted buildings. The black ground here was clean, without the stains of sector 7’s pavement. The street lights weren’t dented. It was nicer. But in my experience, nicer places were policed more heavily. People here would notice if I moved into an empty building.

Anyway, it seemed unlikely anything here would be left unoccupied. Landlords made more of an effort to fill their properties if they could charge more money for them. I knew that much about economics. Fancy places almost never had derelict houses.

There would be other sectors. I kept walking. Sure enough, I reached more rusty metal buildings. These ones looked like some of the walls had rotted away. Big open holes let the elements into the buildings. Still, they towered high above me. Swaying slightly in the wind, they looked like they might fall down any minute.

I could probably find a place to occupy somewhere around here. But then what? What did I do after? Sitting down beside an overturned dumpster which spewed garbage into the street, I tried to think. It was hard. My emotions were too loud. I could really do with a hit of something strong to clear my mind.

“You want some whizz?” A man in a trench coat, face half-covered by his upturned collar, was asking people who walked past.

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