Pack of Lies, page 16
More men dragged us out of the van and across an empty loading dock to an industrial building that had seen better days. The air smelled like urine and sweat, strong enough I could catch it, and it was heavy with smoke or smog or something that made every lungful feel more difficult than usual. We were dragged silently through a wide-open space and tossed unceremoniously into a tiny room with two other women occupying it.
Neither of them were gold pack. They were both cowering in the far corner. One was older, probably around her mid-twenties, and she had a bite mark on her neck proclaiming her as a claimed omega. The other was young, not as much as my companion but younger than me.
When the door slammed behind us, leaving only us four women, the silence wasn’t broken by anyone for a long time.
Unsurprisingly, it was my young companion who spoke first. “How long have you been in here?” she asked.
The younger one shrugged, looking to the other woman who was significantly more distraught. “Couple of days? They said this is where they usually keep new arrivals until a cell opens up.”
“A cell?” she asked, horrified.
“Two per cell. That’s what they said. When someone gets sold, we’ll be taken down to replace them.”
My companion looked at me. “They’re going to sell us.”
I sighed. “They’re going to sell you,” I corrected. “I’ve already been sold. They’ve got me for safe keeping.”
She was struggling to figure out what to make of it all. I didn’t blame her. If I hadn’t had Ice, I’m not sure what I would have done. He’d been chatty while we’d shared our cell together, though I’d stayed quiet. There were only two words I ever really said to him. My name, and his.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
I’d decided I had better help her calm down before she banged on the door screaming to be let out. They didn’t like it when people did that. That’s why Seven had been bound from head to toe, dragged between her rooms. The traffickers I’d been with the first time had openly threatened to shoot one of the omegas in their care if they didn’t shut up. Being loud made us more trouble than we were worth.
“Jessica,” she said.
She hadn’t taken her eyes off me since I’d told her I was already sold.
“I’m Thorn,” I said.
“I’m Willa and this is Mae,” the other girl said, gesturing to her companion.
“Nice to meet you,” I said, not sure how else to move the conversation along.
Jessica scoffed. “Nice to meet you? We’re imprisoned, this isn’t some fucking garden party.”
Giving the girl another once over, I imagined she went to a lot of garden parties. Though young, she was dressed in designer clothes with the golden logo buckles flashing all over the place. I remembered Denzel’s words to me, about omegas who chose to go gold pack.
“Gold pack omegas vehemently hate the system, passionately enough to put themselves at risk, are more scared of it than of being gold pack, or they think they can beat it.”
This poor rich girl had thought she could beat it, and she was suffering the consequences of that. If she were sold off and dark bonded, it wouldn’t even be illegal. There would be no recourse.
“You need to watch your mouth,” I warned. “This isn’t your fancy mansion filled with people who cater to your whims. If you talk back, you’ll be dark bonded and forced to shut up.”
Her face paled, her hand going up to rub at her neck. There were no bond marks there. It made sense there wouldn’t be. She was so young. Bonds weren’t typically formed until an omega was eighteen at least, but those societal rules didn’t apply here.
“Stay behind me,” Willa offered. “They’ll look at you less.”
Jessica scrambled across the floor to the other woman, but I stayed where I was, closest to the door.
“The offer extended to you, too,” she clarified.
I shook my head. “I’m already sold. These people won’t harm me badly, because they’ll have to face the wrath of the person who hired them to hold me.”
At least, I was assuming that was the case. Dr. Hellwood had told me they weren’t done with me, and I doubted he’d changed his mind in the span of time I’d been unconscious. Not after he’d gone to so much trouble to find me. How had they found me, anyway?
“Are you sure? They could be selling you again.”
“I doubt it. I’m an experiment,” I explained. “I escaped, and they weren’t done with me.”
Jessica clutched at Willa’s arm. “An experiment? What did they do?”
“Tested an injection to turn me back from gold pack to a normal omega.”
“What was so bad about it? I would try that willingly, at this point,” she said quietly.
I glanced sharply at the door, hoping no one had heard her. A willing subject was always easier to use, but rare to find. The Centre may be the best of all her options, but with the recent deaths of test subjects I’d rather give her a chance to live with the vague hope of escape from her owners.
“Crippling side effects,” I said. “And the formula only got worse after they used it on me. Subjects have died.”
She still looked interested.
“You don’t want to go there.”
“Maybe I do.”
“No. The risk of death is immense. Their injection isn’t working.”
Jessica didn’t say anything further, but I stared at her until she dropped her gaze, avoiding eye contact.
If she said anything about wanting to go to the Centre… they would buy her in a heartbeat, and it would be my fault for telling her about it. This was why I should have kept quiet and stuck with the original plan of not saying a word.
Settling in for the wait to return to hell, I was just glad neither of the other women were gold pack. It was bad enough I’d potentially ruined one life by mentioning what happened to me.
TWENTY-ONE
REESE
My eyes were crusted shut, lids heavy as my body jerked into wakefulness. Each of my limbs were sluggish, weighed down, and it took a second for my muddled brain to work out what had happened.
This was a drug running through me.
There was no way I would have just fallen asleep on a park bench, not with the adrenaline in my system. Thorn had said she was going to leave us, and then…
I dragged my eyelids up, blinking blurrily at the park.
No sign of her.
She’d been taken.
By the Centre for Omega Enhancement, most likely. Denzel had assumed they would come after her, but insisted on maintaining the lie he’d told her in the heat of the moment, that the GPRE had shut the Centre down behind us. Fuck, if we’d told her, maybe we all would have been more careful.
I hadn’t thought they would be able to find her, let alone so soon. Our tech help had wiped their video feeds, and every person who’d come face to face with us had been eliminated. No one should know our identities, and even if they did it was no simple matter to find this safe house. We didn’t own it.
How could they have possibly…
The hospital.
We’d given the hospital the address of the apartment. Thorn hadn’t gone by her legal name, instead taking our last name for the purposes of paperwork, but her appearance was distinct. Silver haired gold pack omega with side effects the Centre knew were frequent for her.
Denzel had been right about it being too dangerous to take her out; we’d both been too pissed at him to listen.
Cursing with a slurred voice, I dragged myself onto my feet. They didn’t want to hold my weight and I had to grip the back of the bench to keep myself up. With my other hand, I felt my pockets, trying to find my phone. It was gone, not in any of them. The team from the Centre hadn’t harmed me, but they’d slowed me down significantly. They knew we would come after Thorn. Did they know she was our scent match, too?
I stumbled away from the bench, grabbing trees and light poles as I rushed back to the apartment to alert the others. Everyone passing me gave a wide berth, probably assuming I was drunk or on drugs with how I couldn’t manage a straight line and barely kept myself upright. Technically, they were right. I was on drugs, but not by any choice of my own.
When I reached the glass front doors of Sirena Estates, I realized they’d taken my keys too. More curses spilled from my lips, and I hoped they hadn’t come here to incapacitate my pack members like they’d done to me.
In a stroke of luck, the first luck I’d had since deciding to tell Thorn about Denzel’s lies, the liar himself stomped out of the elevator a minute later. He glared at me, storming to the front door and shoving it open.
“You told her?” he asked darkly. “Where is she?”
His aura pushed against mine, our pack bonds weaker than they should be. We were unstable.
“They took her.”
I grabbed the door, pulling myself into the building before Denzel had a chance to react. My limbs were regaining more movement with every minute, and I made it to the elevator without pausing to grab the wall to steady myself. The doors were closing behind me by the time my pack lead shook himself out of the daze and shoved his way into the elevator.
“What do you mean, they took her?” he hissed.
The fury was oppressive in such a small space, and my aura wanted to react and push back. Holding myself in check was harder than usual with the drugs. I moved to the far wall and held out a hand to keep him across the tiny space.
He clenched his fists, not wanting to listen, but he knew what my aura could do.
“They got me with a fucking tranq dart and when I woke up, she was gone. So were my phone and keys. They know we’re going to come for her.”
“Where were you?” Denzel asked.
“Park down the street.”
“You shouldn’t have been out at all. You should have been here.”
“Don’t put the fucking blame on me,” I muttered. “We couldn’t keep her locked up here forever, and she didn’t know the danger. Yet another lie you told and secret you kept. I have no idea why they wanted her back so bad, but I’m surprised they didn’t kill me.”
“They know who we are,” Denzel said. The elevator doors opened to let us out on our floor. “They kept you alive because they don’t want Marlowe’s family on their asses. Either they don’t know Thorn is our scent match, or they’re aware Marlowe doesn’t know about her and are betting he won’t use his connections against them.”
I hadn’t considered that. The Winston family could be classified as ‘richer than God’ and publicly, they supported Marlowe and his choice of mates.
Privately, there was no love between Marlowe’s parents and himself. We hadn’t talked to them in years, though Marlowe did retain some friendships with influential people from his high society days.
Dragging myself down the hallway on increasingly steady feet, I cringed at the loud bang when Denzel threw open the apartment door. It drew Jubilee’s attention, and he rushed toward the entrance. “So? How did it go?” he asked worriedly.
“Thorn was kidnapped,” Denzel said in a clipped tone. “You need to go back home to Marlowe and Quentin.”
Jubilee’s expression crumpled, his glasses slipping down his nose. “Kidnapped? By the Centre?”
“Reese doesn’t know because he was conveniently tranquilized.”
“Fuck you,” I spat at Denzel. “If there had been two of us with her, we both would have been darted. These people aren’t amateurs.”
He didn’t argue, but he didn’t acknowledge that I wasn’t in the wrong, either. “Go home to Marlowe and Quentin, J. Tell them what’s happening if you want. Reese already told Thorn, anyway. We need to get her back.”
I wasn’t going to mention how she’d been insistent on leaving us.
Making my way into the bedroom where we’d stashed all of the weapons and gear we’d needed to infiltrate the Centre, I grabbed a couple guns and shoved them into a holster at my waist. Then I tossed on a hoodie long enough to hide them, leaving only slight bulges. I was on my way back out the door when Denzel grabbed my arm and pulled me to a stop.
“Where are you going?” he demanded.
“Unless you have a contact who can tell us where they would hold Thorn in New Oxford, I’m going to go see the only man who might have the information we need.”
It only took a second for comprehension to light up his features, and he cursed. “Fuck. Wait here, I’m going with you.”
I didn’t want to spend the drive into Citrine Hills with him griping at me, but I also didn’t want to face the man alone.
My biological father was a sadistic, crazy asshole.
With Jubilee tucked into a cab on his way to break the news to Marlowe and Quentin, Denzel had driven the SUV to the nicest area in town, far beyond the simple wealth of the general Westside.
Citrine Hills was one of those places where celebrities lived in mansions on perfectly manicured plots of land, with highly skilled security guards manning their gatehouses. Everything was beyond pretentious, and the vibe fit Soren Rosania perfectly.
He wasn’t the father I’d grown up with, so I would never call him dad. He’d merely been a sperm donor who’d popped back up to ruin my family’s lives. To ruin mine, most of all, with a revelation that should have stayed a secret. It would have been better staying a secret.
Denzel pulled to a stop at the gatehouse at what Soren called Wintervale Manor. The gates were shined to silver perfection, and I wasn’t sure if we were going to be able to get past them, or if I’d have to beg Soren to let us in. We hadn’t left our last meeting with the best of relationships.
“State your business,” a stone-faced guard said, coming up to the open driver’s side window.
“I’m Soren’s son, Reese Torske,” I said. “I have private business to discuss with him.”
All of Soren’s security knew that being Soren’s son meant nothing. There were an equal amount who wanted to kill him as talk to him. Maybe more who wanted him dead, honestly. He glanced down at a tablet in his hand, asking me for the spelling of my name, and then the gate opened.
“Go on in. Check in with his secretary in the foyer.”
I breathed a sigh of relief at still being on the accepted entrants list. It could have been a mistake that Soren never took me off, but I’d never known the man to make mistakes. He’d been hoping I would return one day.
Denzel took us down the winding driveway. Once it was out of view of the main road, they’d paved it with something dark purple, little purple bushes running along either side. The lawn was cut down to a precise height and was sometimes used for golfing when Soren had company. In front of the house was a little cul-de-sac where Denzel parked.
He reached for his seatbelt and I shook my head. “Stay in the car.”
“You think I’m—”
“Last time you met the man, you threatened his business. Who is he going to be more willing to talk to?”
He wouldn’t look at me, but he didn’t reach for his seatbelt again. I got out, alone, and wandered up the front steps. They were white marble, and I knew from experience they were slippery as shit when it rained. Cracking open the tall purple double doors to the house, I slid inside and tried to push down the rising discomfort at being back here.
“Mr. Torske,” a feminine voice said from behind me. “Welcome back.”
I turned and the doors shut me inside the house with a resounding slam. Soren’s secretary stood behind her desk, dressed as usual in a crisp pencil skirt and ironed blouse. She smiled demurely with her perfectly coloured lips, her makeup done to professional levels. Lyra would have been ready for a corporate business meeting if not for the colour of everything.
Her skirt was a turquoise and orange pattern. The blouse; white but slightly translucent, revealing her turquoise bra beneath. Long ginger hair draped over her shoulders in beachy waves, and the blues and greens of her makeup highlighted her gold eyes, making them glow. Her lips weren’t a typical pink, red, or beige. They were bright orange to match the skirt.
This was my father’s dress code, oddly enough. No one in his employ could wear plain black; not if they were someone he had to see often. He claimed it made him depressed.
If I’d been thinking straight, I would have changed into something brighter, just to butter up the man a bit more.
“It’s been a while,” I said tightly.
“Soren will be thrilled to see you after all this time. He’s waiting in the conservatory.”
She turned on her heel and led the way, though I’d been in this mansion a hundred times. Her heels were bright orange too, clicking against the marble floors.
In here, they weren’t a plain white. They’d done something to make them a light purple, and all the walls were pale orange. Soren kept his eccentricities somewhat contained when it came to the outer appearance of his house — hence the white marble and largely white and grey exterior — but inside was a whole different game. In here it was his purpose to make people uncomfortable with how outlandish he was.
As Lyra led the way down high-ceilinged hallways to the back of the mansion, everything got weirder.
Tropical plants trailed up and along the walls. The walls became intricate murals of optical illusions that gave me a headache every time I looked at them. Odd-shaped tables and furniture lined the edges, and when I peeked through an open door, I saw his main living room was as wacky as ever. I looked forward again just as quickly because there may have been more going on in the room than simple TV watching, and I liked to avoid thinking about Soren’s orgies as much as possible.
Stopping beside the door to the attached conservatory, Lyra smiled and gestured inside. “Wilder is here too. I’m sure he’s excited to see you again. Please ensure you come see me on your way out, and I’ll give you some documents Soren had put aside.”
“Thank you,” I grunted, keeping my cringe internal.
Wilder was the last person I wanted to see today. I needed this to be fast. In and out with my information and no doubt owing Soren a favour I would loathe completing. Seeing my half-brother wasn’t ideal. We’d ended on shaky footing when I’d let Marlowe whisk me away into his pack. Wilder saw it as a betrayal.
