Page 83 of Fallen Omega

“What about the other one? Jake?” Dante asks.

Knight’s grip on the tablet tightens. “Disappeared. Not sure if Jake’s his real name. I’ve got a Jake Jones, but…I’ll play with the security photo, cross reference on facial ID. Maybe it’s a different name he goes under. Or he’s so protected, he’s not online.”

“Don’t bother. Reap, tell him what you found.”

I sigh and take a drag on my cigarette. Then I pull over a shallow dish I think’s an ashtray. Not that I care.

“Does it matter?” I ask.

“Maybe.” Dante gets up and helps himself to a drink, pouring a whiskey for the wine-drinker, Knight.

He points the bottle my way, but I nod at my glass.

“David Finch informed him that they have a ring of girls. Omegas.” Dante takes a deep swallow of his drink. “They pick one out, often finding them on the verge of heat, and then… They fucking use the bite to control. They work girls, push them into sex work, a particular type, where they take them, mark them, and keep on deepening the mark.”

“You could have told me this earlier.” Knight turns to me.

“If you’re thinking, Knight, that you can find information online, you can’t. This is low brow, old school, word of mouth and secret fucking handshake shit,” Dante says.

“I wanted to find out if anything had gotten through. Or if there was anything else of worth. A different marker.” I take a drag.

Knight isn’t a happy boy. “I could’ve searched certain arenas. I could?—”

“No. You couldn’t.” I shake my head. “This isn’t a big ring. And it’s so illegal that everyone would end up in prison.”

And I don’t want that. I want to, when the time comes, hunt down every last fuck involved and kill them.

“He’s not a fucking threat to us. This Jake stumbled on her, got lucky. Or,” Dante says, “got unlucky, and on our radar. He’s on the hunt for omegas. Nothing more than a low-end fucking recruiter.”

“How do you know?” Knight asks, as the tension in the room gets tense and thick.

“Because we’ve seen it,” I say. Then I add the detail David told me. One that’s stuck with me because right place, unwilling girl… “The omegas wear a locked, thick leather collar around their neck.”

The tension changes, becomes charged.

They both see what I’m seeing.

A way to play with a seemingly willing girl.

Then Knight’s face morphs to disgust as he puts what it is into the scenario. “Holy shit. A chastity belt for the throat? Do they barcode them? Fun and games are one thing, but this…”

“Unwilling fucking girls.” Dante’s gaze flicks to me. “Not Unholy Trinity business.”

“My business now.” That’s all I say on the matter.

I stub out the cigarette and finish my drink.

As they discuss our issue, I slip out and into the early hours of the night.

Clouds blanket the predawn in gray, and the water’s choppy, the brine thick with that brackish scent from the pools of stagnant water remaining under the boardwalk. Even from here, it cloys.

I hunted for information last night. The lowest haunts. Places not owned by us.

It’s easy for me to slide into that world.

But the talk was banal, and I think I need to find one of the omegas who got out. People always do. But that’s going to take patience, time, an archeologist’s brush. Fine by me. I’m a master in the art of patience and teasing off miniscule layers to get to what lies beneath.

I’m also good at murder with extreme violence and fast moves.

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