Pack of Lies, page 17
It was, in a way. I’d left him behind.
I couldn’t regret grabbing onto an opportunity for a better life, but I wished I’d been able to steal him out from under Soren too. Escaping from the eccentric billionaire’s grasp was easier said than done when you were his son.
Opening the glass door to the conservatory, a wave of humidity hit me in the face. It was stiflingly warm, but it needed to be for the multitude of tropical plants and critters hanging out in here. Lyra made sure the door shut behind me, keeping the conservatory in this tall glass dome and all that humidity out of his house.
There was a clear stone path through the plants, though ferns reached out to touch me and bugs flitted by in front of my face. Butterflies were Soren’s favourite, but I wouldn’t doubt he had some venomous creatures in here. He’d probably say something like ‘survival of the fittest’ if they killed one of his guests.
Voices came from deep in the brightly lit conservatory and I followed them along the path, stopping when I came to the small clearing with a set of lounge chairs that Soren tended to favour. He was draped over one now, eating grapes and sipping wine as Wilder stood off to the side with his arms crossed.
My half-brother looked nothing like me. His mother had been Black and he’d inherited some of her features, while my heritage was plain old European.
He didn’t look like Soren’s son whatsoever either, but paternity tests had confirmed it. They’d confirmed all of us as his cursed spawn, and I had no doubt there were more children out there, blissfully unaware of who their true father was.
Today, Soren had dressed Wilder in a light blue suit with a pink and orange patterned tie. It wasn’t something Wilder would wear on his own. When we’d been participating in underground fights together, he’d stuck to browns, greys, and black.
They turned to me when I moved forward again, my foot kicking a stone.
“Reesey-boy!” Soren exclaimed, sitting up on his chaise lounge.
He was in what counted as casual wear for him. A baby pink silk robe draped over his shoulders, his messy hair bleach blond at the moment. It changed colour according to his moods; he had a stylist on call. Beneath the robe he wore loose lounge pants in an orange and pink tie-dye pattern, high-waisted and tight at the ankles. His sandals were woven, his toes painted pink. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. With this humidity, he didn’t have to. I was sweating through my hoodie right now, and I imagined Wilder felt the same.
“I distinctly remember Marlowe Winston threatening my life if I ever spoke to you again, the last time we talked. It was adorable. Has the high-class omega changed his mind about you?” my father continued, swinging his legs over the side and standing.
Gritting my teeth, I shook my head. “Marlowe and I are fine.”
“Then I’m curious to know why you’ve come crawling back to me.”
He wore a smirk on his wide lips. Today his face was bare, but often he wore makeup to enhance his features. Soren was in his fifties, but looked like he could be in his late thirties with the minimal wrinkles and youthful style he had. Money could buy a lot, and it had bought him extended youth.
All the better to impregnate unsuspecting women with rogue babies.
His coloured contacts weren’t in right now, either, leaving his gold eyes on display.
“I need to buy some information,” I said.
I had to shove down all thoughts of what he did, or I would lose my cool and lose control of my aura along with it. He didn’t respond well to threats, despite how often he tossed them out himself.
Soren laughed. “Get out,” he said, continuing to chuckle.
Wilder stepped toward me, my former friend readying himself to throw me out if I didn’t leave. I’d avoided eye contact with him, but he was glaring at me.
“What do I need to do to buy information from you?” I asked, standing firm.
“You forcibly removed yourself from my employ by utilizing a rich omega and his pack. Now you want information? It’s hilarious you think I would give it to you.”
“I don’t want you to give it to me. I want to buy it. You sell information as your business, so I’m seeking a business arrangement.”
“My sales are to people far richer than you. Your omega may have the reputation of the Winston family behind him, but he doesn’t have access to the amount of money you would need,” Soren said.
He took a dainty sip of his wine, tossing another grape in his mouth. I hated how casual he was being when this was a matter of life or death for Thorn.
“All I need to know is where someone might hold a gold pack omega temporarily in the city. A trafficking ring, probably.”
That got Soren’s attention, his golden eyes lighting up with interest. “Gold pack? Hmm, well that isn’t the kind of dynasty-ending information I was expecting you to want.”
“Why would I come to you for dynasty-ending information? My pack aren’t social climbers. We live in the suburbs and have menial jobs,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest to match Wilder.
“You would only come to me if you were desperate, so I assumed it had to be something big. Apparently, this gold pack omega is big for you.”
He hummed a tune, looking me over. I stood stock still, not wanting to appear threatening. Well, any more threatening. The crossed arms were doing enough.
“I’m going to take a stab in the dark and say… scent match. That pack never seemed the type to take on a second omega. They’re all obsessed with the Winston omega.”
“Are you going to give me the information I asked for, or not?”
I didn’t confirm nor deny. If I lied, he would be offended, but I wasn’t comfortable saying outright that Thorn was our scent match.
Laying back down on the chaise lounge, Soren shrugged. “I need some time to think on it. Wilder, take your brother for a walk. I’ll find you when I’m ready.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him I didn’t have time to wait for him, but Wilder was by my side grabbing my arm before I could. His close presence was a reminder. We couldn’t talk back to Soren Rosania, because at the end of the day, he held our lives in his hands.
He’d made us rogue alphas, dangers to society that the GPRE were more than ready to imprison or put down if necessary.
And he’d created enough connections during his life of blackmail and crimes that no one would believe our claims he was our father, or even do a paternity test. To the world, he was a normal omega, and he was filthy fucking rich to boot.
We were insects underneath his heel, so I turned and let Wilder lead me again, praying to whoever would listen that he found something he wanted from me and gave me the information I needed.
TWENTY-TWO
REESE
My brother was tense as we exited the conservatory, veering down a hallway into the depths of the quirky mansion. He didn’t speak, and I didn’t try to engage him, until we exited onto the back patio. It would be naive to think there was no one listening out here, but that wasn’t why this was a better place to talk. Both of us were wildly uncomfortable in the confines of that mansion, Wilder more than I was.
“You shouldn’t have come back,” he said, releasing me to lean against a grey garden wall.
Beyond him there were oddly cut hedges and flowers on the verge of blooming, a couple of brightly dressed groundskeepers puttering away.
“I had no choice.”
Wilder snorted, shaking his head. His curly, dark hair was longer than the last time I’d seen him. “This time, you damn well had a choice. When he calls in whatever favour he wants from you, you won’t. Soren isn’t kind in the favours he asks.”
I sighed, dropping down onto the plush patio couch. “It’s nice to see you again too, Wilder.”
“It’s not nice to see you,” he snapped. “You took your out and let that omega save you, and I couldn’t begrudge you that. Leaving me behind was the best choice, and if I’d been in the same position, I would have done the same thing. So why the hell are you back here? He’s going to reel you in again. If you were going to run back the first time you needed something, it should have been me presented with the opportunity for escape. I’d be halfway across the country by now.”
“There’s some information only he can give me.”
“No. There are others like him in the city, people who don’t have such a vested personal interest in you.”
“Only he can give it to me fast enough,” I corrected. “This is time sensitive. I didn’t know where else to go.”
Wilder growled. His aura was unstable, worse than mine. Soren didn’t like us having packs, but rogues tended to be more stable when they were connected to normal alphas. Especially rogues who had gone berserk before, losing control of their auras and breaking into uncontrollable rages.
I hadn’t gotten to that point, not even when we’d been doing underground fights together at Soren’s behest.
My brother had, and he’d gone a step beyond rage. He’d broken one of the biological laws, done one of the things that only rogue alphas were capable of doing.
“You shouldn’t have fucking come.”
“If your scent match mate was in the hands of traffickers, what would you have done?” I demanded, finally snapping. “I doubt you would have wandered the fuck around town, trying to find someone to give you information when you knew he had it at his fingertips.”
Wilder’s expression went dark, his hands in fists as he fought to control himself.
“Fuck you, Reese.”
“I’m sorry, OK? Thorn needs to be saved before she’s whisked away to somewhere we’ll never find her.”
My heart clenched. We would get her. There was no other option. The worst part was that when we got her back, we would have to let her go again. Maybe I could ask Soren about the Madame, too. I imagined he knew where to find her.
That was an ask I would save for later, though.
Or never.
I didn’t want her to go. After we got her back, I was desperate for her to at least give us a chance to explain all the lies we’d told. Denzel would apologize if he knew what was good for him. So would Jubilee and I, and she would meet Quentin and Marlowe. Could anyone leave Marlowe, really? I hadn’t been able to.
“Fine. Whatever. It’s your life you’re throwing away. How were your three years of freedom, asshole?”
Wilder managed to get himself in check, my apology enough to knock the wind from his sails. I grinned as he scowled.
“It’s nice only punching people in the face when I want to,” I said.
That drew a chuckle out of him.
“I’m not nearly as bruised and battered since I’m playing bodyguard to Soren, now. Of course, that means I need to deal with daddy dearest, which is horrible,” he said.
“Should you be saying that?” I asked, glancing up at the discreet, hidden security camera pointed at the patio. “Daddy dearest is always watching.”
Wilder threw up his middle finger at the camera. “Soren knows I hate him. He also knows he has me by the balls and I won’t do anything except talk shit. Even then, I wouldn’t be talking if it wasn’t you.”
We’d been able to talk far more freely when we’d worked the underground fights together. Neither of us had ever mentioned Soren by name, of course. He’d kill us for dragging him through the mud. There had been a lot of talk about a deadbeat dad, though. None of the other fighters had believed we were blood relatives. They’d thought we were making it up.
“Fair enough.”
“He’s missed you, which is why I know he’s concocting a plan right now to bring you back to him. You’ll get your information before you leave.”
But at what cost?
The unspoken question hung in the air.
“Maybe one day you’ll be able to get out from under his thumb too,” I said.
He carded a hand through his tight curls. “You were an outlier. No one frees themselves from him. Especially not when they’ve done what I’ve done. Soren has all the proof he needs to keep me with him for the rest of my life.”
I cringed. That had been a mess. I’d been there along with Soren to pick up the pieces of Wilder after the incident.
“Soren is ready to see you now.” Lyra appeared in the doorway, that same serene smile on her face.
She’d been working for him since before I’d first met him when I was seventeen, but she’d been young then and still young now. Barely in her late twenties. None of us knew what he had on her, but there had to be something. The woman never spoke ill of him. She never said anything about herself, either. It was like she had no life outside of this place.
“He’s made himself comfortable in the cinema room,” she said.
She led the way, although we both knew where we were going. The cinema room was another of Soren’s favourite places to lounge and pretend he was a brainless, eccentric billionaire and not a mastermind of epic proportions. There were double doors into the dark room, and up on the screen Legally Blonde was playing. He didn’t have reclining theatre chairs like most people put in these kinds of rooms. Soren had a whole reclining couch, enough room for three people on the orange fabric. Or one Soren, surrounded by fluffy pillows.
The man still wasn’t wearing a shirt but had shucked his sandals at the side of the couch.
When we entered, he turned to look at us. “It’s your lucky day, son. It turns out, I have the information you’re looking for, and I’m willing to give it to you.”
“And what do you want in return?” I asked.
Wilder wandered further into the room, standing beside the couch and going back to his bodyguard duties. Soren shrugged. “I’ll call in a favour at a later date.”
My brother’s expression tightened, and I bit my tongue.
“Oh, and I’ll need you to get me some popcorn from the kitchen.”
A favour at a later date could mean anything, and I wouldn’t be able to refuse. No matter how big or small. It didn’t even cross my mind to turn down the offer, though. I’d sell my soul for Thorn any day of the week.
“Is that all?” I asked, half-sarcastically.
“Make sure there’s a fuck ton of butter on it.”
I turned and left, moving through the house until I got to the familiar kitchen. There were staff milling about and a giant bucket of popcorn sitting on the counter, drenched in melted butter. “For Soren?” I asked, gesturing to it.
The head chef nodded and I grabbed it. Soren had made me his errand boy instead of asking one of the many people he literally employed to be at his beck and call because it was dehumanizing. A reminder of how he owned me, in the end.
Back in the cinema room the movie was still playing, and Soren had a woman on either side of him. They clung to him like plastic wrap to a bowl, and he was chuckling as they paid little attention to the movie and plenty to him. I placed the bowl of popcorn down on the table beside the couch, averting my eyes from the borderline not-safe-for-work scene.
Wilder had to deal with this every day.
I really needed to get him out of here, because this was far more nightmare-inducing than what Wilder had done to get himself stuck with our father.
“Where can I get the information I need?” I asked.
Soren waved me off, reaching over to run a finger along the buttery edge of the bowl. He swiped that finger across the cleavage of the closest woman, then bent his head to lick it off. She moaned far louder than was realistic, her hands running through his hair.
“Lyra is printing it. She’ll have a folder for you in the foyer. I do look forward to seeing more of you soon, Reesey-boy,” Soren said, lifting his buttery lips from her breasts for just long enough to grin at me.
“I don’t,” I muttered, clapping a hand on Wilder’s shoulder on my way out.
At least I would see him again. With how ‘other’ I felt in the pack, it was refreshing to be back with my brother, a man who had always understood me. Since I was tangled up with Soren again anyway, I’d have to find a way to call Wilder.
But first, Thorn.
If she was anything but perfectly fine when we found her, I would never be able to forgive myself.
TWENTY-THREE
THORN
No one came to see us for a long time after that. I lost track of the minutes and hours, and there were no windows in here. If this place had been functioning like a proper business, this would have been some kind of interior office, only one entrance and exit.
Eventually they opened the door long enough to slide a plate through, loaded with food. For four women, it was far from enough.
I opted not to eat, my stomach turning uncomfortably. Whatever drugs they’d pumped into me to knock me out were making their way through my delicate system, and my head wasn’t pleased. I was trying to push back the oncoming migraine, not keen to suffer through another one so soon.
“Are you OK?” Willa asked me in concern.
The girl was surprisingly calm, considering her situation. Nothing like Mae, who had barely moved from the fetal position except to take a few bites of the food. Jessica wasn’t dealing well either, nibbling on her immaculately painted fake nails and occasionally staring at me.
She was trying to decide if my predicament was better or worse than her alternatives.
Willa was holding it together, though. She cared for Mae like they were old friends. They weren’t. In the past hours she’d told us Mae was stolen only a few days ago to be used as a hostage. Our captors were trying to get a ransom from her pack. Willa had been here longer. I imagined she’d been held somewhere else before here, too.
A few days wasn’t long enough to come to terms with being property. It had taken me years, and in the end, I’d hidden behind the illusion of having choices.
“I’m fine,” I said.
“You don’t look fine.”
“This is nothing I haven’t dealt with for the past couple of years.”
