AllFreeNovel
Share Us
R I L E Y
I finally stop lookingbehind me for the handsome Alpha when I’m just a block away from home. The scent-blocking soap must be working its hardest because I’m not being followed by him or any Alpha, for that matter. Getting away from him was almost too easy, and my hackles are raised in suspicion. Usually, an Alpha will pursue anyone who pulls away from them like I did, especially if they carry an Omega scent. But this book-loving Alpha was different. He was kind, gentle even. My natural instincts weren’t the only thing drawing me to him. He was genuinely interesting, and if things were different…
They aren’t different.
As I walk down the sidewalk, hands in my pockets to ward off the chilly wind, I see a familiar car drive past—Kennedy’s little yellow coupe, complete with that ridiculous surfboard strapped on top. I don’t know why he keeps it up there. We don’t even live near that close to the ocean, for goodness’ sake. The closest beach is two hours away. But that’s Kennedy for you. He marches to the beat of his own drum, which is weird enough that he’s hardly ever suspected for his other activities.
If we were normal friends, two Betas without a care in the world, I might have waved at him as he drove by, but it isn’t worth exposing our connection to each other.
I stop short at the blare of a siren, catching the spread of blue and red light splaying over the buildings across the street. Three police cruisers come barreling onto the main road, tires squealing as their drivers overcorrect on the tight turn. The vehicles’ sirens wail like banshees and I can only watch, dumbstruck, as they barricade themselves around Kennedy’s car, preventing him from going any farther down the road. My mouth drops in horror, and fear freezes my feet right where I stand, when I should be running into my building to hide away.
Oh god.
Kennedy is getting arrested, right in front of me, and there is nothing I can do to help him. Hot tears well in my eyes, and I can’t seem to make my feet move more than an inch, frozen in shock as the officers step out of their vehicles and other pedestrians stop to watch—or scurry along to get out of the way.
“Out of the vehicle!” one of the officers belts through his megaphone, feedback echoing off of the tall buildings around us until I feel like I’m in a tornado of static. “Put your hands up and drop your weapons!”
Weapons? What weapons? I’ve never seen Kennedy with a gun. He is much more the “peace, love, and weed” type. But if these officers are actually telling him to drop whatever weapons they think he has, maybe he’s in more trouble than I thought.
I cover my mouth to muffle a scream as Kennedy finally emerges from his coupe, lanky arms raised high in the air, his posture stiff. He says nothing, but I can’t tell his expression from here on the sidewalk. There is no weapon in his hand, just as predicted. Nor is there the bulge of a pistol or hidden gun anywhere in his tight jeans. Everything about this excessive force is all wrong, and I can’t figure out why the cops were called out in such force.
I startle again as additional cars, all unmarked sedans, come roaring down the road from behind me, blocking off Kennedy’s exit from the rear of his vehicle. Half a dozen hop out of the cars like clowns from a circus wagon and point their guns at Kennedy, shouting loud, cold threats that blend together until I can’t tell what they are saying. The cacophony of yelling men makes my pulse soar. Why are they using weapons on Kennedy? Wouldn’t this just be a drug possession charge? He’s not a murderer, at least I don’t think he is.They shouldn’t be using this kind of force. None of it makes any sense.
Unless they’re looking for something other than just Kennedy’s drugs. Unless they’re looking forsomeoneother than Kennedy.
Terror shoots through my bloodstream like icy needles. What if the cops are rounding up the Omegas that Kennedy has helped hide over the years? What if someone saw us at the café and tipped off the police? That could be the only reason to use such a dramatic force against a simple drug dealer. This is an attack against Omegas and those that stand up for their rights.
My feet unfreeze. I need to get out of here. Now.
I stumble backward, and my back hits a lamppost with a loud clang. The sound cracks across the air like a gunshot, and one of the policemen pivots in place, his gun pointed in my direction, and every instinct I have tells me to run away as far as I can.
So, I do. I run like all the demons in hell are chasing me, away from my apartment building and back toward the street where the bookshop sits. But I’m not a good runner, and I never have been, even when I was healthier as a child. I’m too skinny and weak, and my body doesn’t know which side is right side up with all the imbalanced hormones rushing through my blood and muddling my senses. After only a block and a half, my lungs are raspy and on fire, and my legs are shaking so badly that I can barely put one foot in front of the other without tripping. The drumbeat of footsteps behind me announces my pursuer’s arrival, and I slow to a surrendering stop. This is it. The end.
When I turn to face the cops, they have their weapons pointed right at me, tasers, not pistols, which means they know exactly who, and what, they were chasing. Neither man is winded from the chase, but I can barely gulp air into my lungs fast enough to keep from fainting.
“Hands in the air!” the taller man, a blond, orders, his voice harsh and biting. I let out a shriek when he thrusts the taser toward me.”I said hands in the air!”
I try to raise my hands toward the sky, but I’m shaking so badly that it hurts to lift my weakened limbs. A single tear rolls down my cheek, but whether it is caused by fear or the cold wind in my eyes, I’m not sure. I meet the second cop’s eye, and as our gazes connect, his nostrils widen. As he inhales, his pupils grow big and dark. He’s an Alpha, and unlike the one in the bookstore, this one can smell my scent like a shark with blood.
“Omega,” he growls, taking a menacing step forward, hand outstretched like a claw. He grabs the front of my T-shirt, and a seam on my shoulder tears. He pulls me up against his wide chest, leaning down to run his nose against my neck, scenting me and rubbing his own scent along my skin. I haven’t been touched by an Alpha in years, and when I feel the air from his breath against my jugular, I break completely.
“Please,” I whisper. My voice doesn’t sound like my own—it is too young, too small, too frightened. “Please.” I don’t know what I am begging for. Mercy? Forgiveness? Death? I want all of it and none of it.
“Please, what, little Omega?” snarls the cop, his fingernails digging into my skin. He looks nearly close to rut already, his eyes wide and wild, and his cock hard in his uniform pants. I am programmed to respond to any Alpha, but I don’t want this. I don’t want this disgusting man who would rather hurt me and abuse his power than show me any kindness.
“Please let me go,” I say, willing my voice to go louder. He throws back his head and laughs, shooting a glance at his partner. The blond cop looks uncomfortable, as he should be. He is a Beta, oblivious to the thrall that Omegas and Alphas create around each other.
“Whitten,” he says carefully. “Let go of the girl. We need to take her in.”
Whitten snorts through his nose, a cruel, dismissive sound. I check his pupils again to find them dark as night, his irises barely visible. I’m in so much trouble. If someone doesn’t stop this and soon, this Alpha will bundle me off to his own Pack, and I’ll be doomed to live out my life as his, loveless and lonely, only meant to be used for what my body can provide. Sex, and babies, and ecstasy, pleasure that won’t necessarily be two-sided.
I’ve spent the past years trying to save myself from the fate I am destined to find. I’ve run from family, from friends, from my childhood home, just to find safety from those who would use me. But for the first time in a long time, I can’t save myself. I close my eyes and pray for a miracle. A hero. I’m so tired of having to be my own.
FOUR
—
M I L E S
