Page 2 of Slick

To call Diana clueless is both painfully accurate and deeply unfair.

From the moment she was shipped here at sixteen, she ceased to be a person in the eyes of the people who run The Serenity Center. Not only did they erase her memories of her prior life, but they reduced her to a single purpose: the manufacture of omega secretions, known as slick. To the assholes who own the facility she’s just a juicy line on their spreadsheets, and to the collectors who milk her for all she’s worth, she’s just a job. A beautiful, needy omega fantasy – but still just a cog in the machine known as a slick collection facility.

Of course, to the rest of the world, we’re an omega rehabilitation center, since slick collection for any purposes other than research or therapy is illegal. Maybe there are a few traumatized omegas in the facility, trotted out when the government inspectors come to visit, but D-Block is all about milking as much product out of the inmates as possible.

I call them inmates, because the amount of lies I have to tell about this place makes me nauseous. There’s a euphemism forevery procedure, a clinical veneer to their bullshit practices that horrifies the nurse in me. But losers are beggars, as I learned when my brother’s gambling debts were called in. Instead of breaking his kneecaps, the Carrillo Cartel made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. Twelve months working as a caretender in their illegal facility, and Johnny’s very messy slate would be wiped clean.

It's so close to being over, I should be jumping for joy. Johnny has promised me he’s keeping his nose clean, and the registrar at St Luke’s Hospital said he’s ready to take me back as soon as I’m free. Technically, my life begins again next week, but I’m pretty sure it will be at the cost of my soul.

I should tell her…. And the struggle to stay silent is killing me, but the first thing they had me do when I started at The Serenity Center was sign an iron-clad NDA. I thought it was to keep their dirty dealings off the radar of the authorities, but it’s really just to keep Diana and the other inmates in the dark.

Because getting slick out of a distressed omega is harder than getting blood out of a stone.

As I run my hand gently over her damp hair, Diana makes a soft whimpering sound in her sleep. A puff of burned sugar reaches my nose, and I bite so hard on the edge of my tongue, my piercing clacks against my teeth. Not that you can hear it over the goddamn beeping coming from my facility-issue wristband. The fucking assholes track everything, always. There are cameras in every corner and sensors stuck to every surface, not just to record the interactions between workers and inmates, but to make sure not one drop of their precious product goes to waste.

We can kiss and cuddle, but exchanging fluids is strictly prohibited, something they like to remind me of at least once a week. If Diana wasn’t such a goldmine, they would have stuck me in a back room months ago, but a happy omegais a productive omega, and for some reason, Diana loves my cowardly ass.

A better man would have found a way to get her out. But all I’ve done is pay off enough of my debts so my contract can be renewed at the hospital. In less than a week, I’ll be back in the world of bedpans and bandages, while Diana will be assigned to some new caretender. Another fucking euphemism, since we’re really just the guys who mop up after collections.

I grab a few hours of sleep in the room I share with two other caretenders, then head down to the kitchen for breakfast. I’m looking for something sweet I can take back to Diana when Trevor, one of the senior collectors, steps up beside me. He’s been around so long most of the bullshit just slides right off, but I can tell by the pinched look on his face that the news is all bad.

“I just saw the paperwork for today’s D-Block deposits. They’re setting up something special for your girl, to try to give her production levels a boost.”

“Fuck.” I stare blankly at the frozen yogurt in my hand. “She told me you guys were talking about that.”

“Not my division,” Trevor says, plucking a fruit cup off the tray, “so I don’t know the specifics, but I thought you should get a heads up. According to the security update I saw, it’s all-hands-on-deck. Even the guys in the tower will be on call.”

The security guards rarely leave their posts on the tower, which is the outer perimeter of the facility, reinforced with electric fences and barbed wire. “Meaning…?”

Trevor ducks his head near mine, his coffee breath overpowering after Diana’s sweet scent. “Alivespecimen.”

Even though I suspected as much, it’s still a blow to the gut. The facility rarely involves alphas directly, since synthetic pheromones are readily available on the open market. Live harvesting is complicated, especially since alphas pheromones – which can be distilled into a cloudy liquid, similar to animalmusk – are both a personal signature and a point of pride for them. The stuff you can buy as a health remedy or to boost your virility, is one-part alpha soup, three-parts bullshit chemicals. No self-respecting alpha would ever let a facility like this go anywhere near his glands.

Which means this guy probably didn’t volunteer for the honor.

“Are you talking about… one of the basement guys?”

Trevor shoots me a hard look. “Lower your voice, Dex. You’re not even supposed to know they exist.”

‘Exist’ might be a stretch, given the conditions I saw in the basement. Cramped, filthy, and medieval are words that immediately spring to mind.

“One of the guards took me down there about a month ago,” I murmur, grabbing a juice and following Trevor over to a table. We’re early, so the cafeteria is mostly empty, but we still settle into the furthest corner. “His partner got too close to one of their cages and the alpha bit off his ear.”

“I heard about that,” Trevor grunts. “But why did they call you?”

“ER nurse,” I explain, shoving a fork into my eggs but unable to go any further. There’s no appetite suppressant like reliving memories in this shothole. “They had to transfer the guard for surgery, but at least I stemmed the bleeding and got his ear on ice.”

Trevor drops his own fork, his mouth twisted into a grimace. “Jesus. This fucking place…”

We exchange a long look, and I don’t know whether to pity him or admire him. A year at the facility has nearly broken me, while Trevor is coming up on a decade working for these scumbags.

“Best advice I can offer is to see out your last few days and then scrub this place from your mind. You’re going to feel badabout leaving her behind, but there’s no point in getting killed over it.”

I scowl at my eggs, remembering why I hate Trevor. “I’ll keep my mouth shut, but if she’s getting a live specimen, I have to be in the collection room with her.”

Trevor sits back, his face shuttering. “Not a good idea.”

“You want your guys to keep hitting their quotas? That’s only going to happen if Diana keeps producing, and she won’t do that if she freaks out.” I lean across the table, stabbing the edge of his tray with my fork. “Put me in that room with her or miss your monthly target. Your choice.”

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