Page 66 of Knot All That Glitters: Part 2

A hot, burning ball of anger takes root in my chest at the idea of that. Of them being with another omega, while they’ve been proclaiming that they only want me.

Answers.I need answers. When the last time was that they came here? What did they do while they were here? There has to be some kind of record, right? Of the patrons who check in for the night and what they do? Maybe not their full on kink list or anything, but whether they booked a private room and with who?

At the top of the stairs, I find three doors. One it clearly marked security and I avoid that one, instead turning toward an open office door. There’s a desk inside with a computer on it. I slip inside and carefully shut the door. I don’t turn on the lights, choosing to shuffle over to the desk carefully and wiggle the mouse. The screen lights up, making me squint against the sudden brightness.

The computer is password protected. Of course it is. I don’t know why I would have thought it wouldn’t be. Or maybe I was just hoping. My hands hover over the keyboard. What had Jude said were the most common passwords? He had an entire conversation with me about password safety when he found out mine for my computer was ‘Hav3nDrak3.’ He’d been super disappointed in me, even after I pointed out how rude it is to watch someone type in their password.

I close my eyes and try to remember. I think he said one of the most common is Password123. Or qwerty. Or just 123456.

Hmm, most computers don’t lock you out if you try too many times. So I take a deep breath and type in my first guess.

It works.

Whoever’s computer this is needs a lesson in password security. But I’m not going to tell them that. I wince when I see the background image on the screen, a very lude picture of a young girl being fucked by an enormous cock. Gross.

Forcing myself not to focus on it, I instead look at the desktop icons. It’s surprisingly neat, everything labeled, though I am a little concerned that if I click on the file labeled ‘Contracts’, I might actually find someone’s porn stash.

I click on it anyway. And find a list of first and last names followed by a date. The thumbnails don’t look like porn, so I take a chance and open the first one. I hoping it’ll be a contract for the patrons. I imagine they have to sign some kind of agreement and pay a membership fee to be allowed in.

But what I find is worse… so much worse.

It’s a contract all right, but it’s a contact for… not employment. It’s clear whoever Alicia Moncriff is, she didn’t agree to work here of her own volition. No, it looks like a contract where she agreed to work off a debt for her mother.

I close out of it and open another. It’s the same. Contract after contract for men and women who don’t get paid, but instead everything they earn goes to paying off debt already accrued. Mostly by someone else.

And all of them, every single one, have the designation of ‘omega’.

My brain flickers back to all the omega servers in the lounge and I know without a doubt they are these people. For all intents and purposes, they are indentured servants. Working toward freedom.

My stomach rolls and I have to swallow a few times to keep from vomiting.

Surely, surely, the Calloway pack doesn’t know about this. Surely they wouldn’t be members of a club that would do this to people, turn them into sex slaves for those wealthy enough to afford it.

But then why did Hale have that stupid key card?

I close out of the contracts tab, and then open the entire filing system, setting it to search the whole computer. Hands shaking, I search for Calloway.

And get over a hundred hits.

I grit my teeth around the urge to vomit and click on the most recent entry for them: Calloway-10.29.24.

Hale, Jude, Atticus and Creed Calloway in attendance. Requested private room 6. Requested 5 omegas. Joined by Frederick Bell.

Oh. Oh, fuck.

I push back from the desk so quickly that I topple over the chair. It makes a loud clatter as it tumbles to the ground and I freeze for a minute. Cursing myself.

Someone had to have heard that, right? It was so loud.

I reach with a trembling hand to close the window. Only vaguely noting that there’s a list of charges under the note before I shut it down entirely.

I right the chair and make my way over to the door, pressing my ear against it while holding my breath. I don’t let myself linger on the realization that the Calloway pack has a membership here. That they’ve undoubtedly had sex with the omegas bound to this place through no fault of their own. I definitely don’t think about my father doing the same fucking thing.With them in the same room.No, I can’t think of that right now, because if I do, I’ll undoubtedly stink up the place with my distressed omega scent.

And that, for sure, someone is bound to notice.

When I hear nothing in the hall for long minutes, I slowly open the door and then slip out, trying to pull my unconcerned, confident, ‘I’m meant to be here’ persona back on, but I can feel it crumbling. Can feel it cracking and breaking.

I need to get out. Need to get to the safety of Ren’s car and then I can fall apart.

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