Page 4 of The Omega's Contract

“You haven’t even paid back what you owe,” Seb hisses.

He scrapes his hair back, and I can see how sweaty he is, how desperate. This is what I deal with; desperation. I stave off their descent into ruin and get paid handsomely to do it. Is it unethical? Somewhat. Am I good at it? Naturally. I can sense the shadow of it rolling over them. Why do I do it? Simple, if I don’t, someone else will. And I get to punish our parents over and over and over again. She was wrong about us. We have two fronts of our business, the side we want the rest of the world to see, and this side, where we take from the bad and make their lives…well, worse.

“I’m not lending you more money.” I pick up my glass. The discussion is at an end.

“No! Please, I need more, just a little bit more time. Darion, please!”

I finish the liquid in my glass and glance at Seb. He’s watching the man with barely constrained disgust.

“You took that money we gave you and put it into the slot machines, Eric.” His deep, growly voice causes the pathetic man in front of me to break into shivers. “We know what you did.”

“I…won’t this time.”

“Not good enough.” Seb says calmly. He flicks his tongue against his lower lip and frowns. “We won’t deal with you anymore. Not until you pay back what you owe.”

“You have my collateral.” The beta whines and lets his head rest on the table. I curl my lip and push my glass aside.

“We do, but that’s not what you owe.” Seb stands up. “We’re done here, let's go home.”

I stand and slip out of the booth, moving through the crowd as it parts around us. Lukas on my left, Seb on my right, how it’s been for almost a decade.

She came to us.

That plan. That fucking plan.

“I need quiet.” I mutter as I push open the door to the pub. Lukas slides behind the wheel of his shiny silver sports car. I take the back, resting my head on the headrest.

There’s a headache throbbing against my temple. The noise of the bar dies away, and I close my eyes.

When I do, I see orange hair and strange eyes and a deal that is far, far too tempting.

“I think we should take the deal.” I murmur softly.

Lukas laughs and puts his foot down, sending the car into dizzying speeds while Sebastian growls a warning.

“It’s the perfect way to buy more time.” I say more to myself than them. “It would lend us that legitimacy that we need, our last foot through the door. If we can get that…we can finally end this farce.”

“I’m in,” Lukas howls as he drifts the back end of the car around a corner.

“It’s all fake. I don’t want an omega.” Seb hisses as he squeezes the door handle and holds on for dear life. “We would destroy any woman who tried to love us.”

“We’d destroy any woman who just tried to spend time with us,” Lukas admits with a sinister laugh. “But she’s one of us, and I’m sick of finding those whores that reek of desperation and pills draped on my cars.”

“Fake. Not real. Just buying her time, buying us time.” I confirm, reaching out to rub Seb’s shoulder.

My touch calms him, soothes him, and he settles back in the seat, still unhappy but no longer so irate.

Lukas hits the freeway, and the car settles into a calmer drive, speed dropping as we cruise along. The city is behind us, the smothering poverty hidden. That girl with the ginger hair is just a moment that is already gone. The night is ours again.

Now, I might finally be able to breathe.

two

Missy

The flickering street lights bathe our people in an orange glow. It’s like sunlight for the poor. We come out of our holes to run like mice under the flickering glow, only to vanish back into shadows. If you want it, you can buy it, drugs, weapons, food, clothes, stolen, bought, you can buy sex, and you can buy slaves. Everything can be bought and sold, bartered or stolen, for the right price.

I’m careful to keep my distance from all the betas. My scent blockers are failing and any surge of emotion could out my secret. They might not want me, but they sure as fuck won’t hesitate to sell the information to any alpha that pays. I could be someone's meal ticket as quickly as one wrong conversation.

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