It took a bit of creative thinking to learn the location of Claire’s domicile before the occupation. All network systems in the Dome had been terminated, even COM towers were destroyed to ensure the population had little means to communicate or muster outside of face-to-face contact. All that was left was emergency hardware.
Shepherd’s manipulation of the information and communication networks was practically complete, but not total.
There were still databases, servers filled with the information of the residents on each level—that was what Corday needed to access. Most of the Enforcer offices were currently occupied by Shepherd’s Followers. Corday had scouted dozens. The few locations he’d found abandoned were in very hostile regions, the sectors’ inner workings picked clean or totally demolished. But after two weeks of dangerous reconnaissance, he got lucky.
In the burned-out husk of a small, mid-level Enforcer station, Corday discovered one minuscule directory office untouched by the riots. The COMscreen functioned and, by some fucking miracle, booted when plugged into a battery.
Working quickly before anyone passing might notice his presence, Corday collected the former address of one Claire O’Donnell. Wasting no time, he shut off the valuable resource, tore out the memory cube, and climbed down seven levels to brave the cold neighborhood Claire had called her own.
The Omega had lived too near the slums for her home to ever have been considered safe. Everything was poorly maintained, sandwiched tightly, and painted in a faded wash of color. Her apartment had been ransacked, of course. Windows were shattered, knickknacks destroyed and anything of value gone. What remained was shoddy furniture and walls of expensive paper books.
In all the things taken, few books had been stolen.
The novels she adored had spines distorted by frequent use. Smirking, Corday found her favorites almost cliché, his lip twitching when a dog-eared copy of a pre-Dome romance was in a position of prominence. With careful fingers, he pulled it out and looked at the worn cover.
It was creased, it smelled like soapy vanilla. Returning it, Corday moved into the small space’s only bedroom.
Everything was in the shade of robin’s egg blue, styled in the simplistic, comfortable atmosphere Omegas required. The bedding still smelled of her, though it looked as if one of the rioters had rolled about in the linen. Taking a seat on the narrow mattress, Corday picked up the family photograph from her bedside table—her parents and Claire when she was just a girl. An Alpha father’s hands rested on his little girl’s shoulders. Beside them was a woman with a tight smile, a forced expression that tried to convey joy below surrendered eyes.
Claire was the image of her father, the same distinctive looks, the same black hair, but she had her mother’s small frame and swanlike quality. She appeared fragile, but Corday knew she was stronger than she seemed.
Setting the photograph back, Corday began to poke through her collection of worthless jewelry even the looters had passed up. Under the lining of the small velvet box, he felt the outline of a ring and pulled back the fabric to find a worn gold band.
It was a wedding band. The same one worn by her mother in the photograph.
Without thought, Corday took it so he might return it to Claire. Because he was going to see her again. His Omega friend was sneaky and smart. She would find her way. Claire would not end up like the glassy-eyed Omegas the Enforcers had set free, the ones begging for some Alpha to claim them and give them a sense of purpose and relief. No… Claire was different.
She had to be.
Claire was unsure how many days had passed, what the hour was, how long she’d slept, or why she was always exhausted when she woke. Shepherd had not returned once since their fight.
There was no one to talk to, no soothing scent. There was nothing to do but obsess about the room and try not to think about how very lonely she was.
She cleaned every surface, going so far as to pull everything out of the dresser and refold each item with sharp corners. Even forcing distraction, more than once, she unwittingly allowed her thoughts to circle on the Alpha, tempting her to recall his more pleasing points.
The root of the issue was palpable. Claire wanted him back—his soothing purr, the heat of his body in her nest. Life was muddled by enforced seclusion, off-putting and confusing.
After shutting the last drawer, ready to move on to the bookshelf—what Shepherd had called her window—Claire turned and squeaked. A woman was standing behind her, so close they could have been touching.
Green eyes wide at seeing a stranger, Claire stammered, ‘Hello,’ wondering for a moment if she had lost her mind and begun hallucinating.
A smile, the lovely, polished, practiced grin of nobility, spread across pink lips. ‘Hello, pretty.’
Claire could smell that the female was not what she seemed. The exotic beauty was an Alpha, but so delicate that the brunette could almost pass for Omega. Backing away, Claire found blue eyes tracking her movement and a small, amused smirk on those lips. ‘Who are you?’
The coolness of the woman’s fingers made Claire instantly pull her head back. It did not stop the smirking woman from tracing her nail over the delicate skin under Claire’s jaw. ‘I am Shepherd’s beloved.’
That string in her chest, the chain, writhed at those words. Pressing a hand defensively over her belly, Claire choked out, ‘I am Claire.’
‘Claire,’ a wealthy, accented voice drew out the pronunciation of the name.
A glint was in those oval eyes, something unwelcome and treacherous. The Alpha was dangerous, looking at her like a piece of meat, countering each step Claire took backwards until the Omega found herself trapped against the bed.
The intruder purred, ‘Be still, Omega.’
Claire’s voice dropped, her shoulders grew stiffer, and she said it again, ‘My name is Claire.’
Pain burst across Claire’s face. Pressing her hand to her bleeding lip, she stared in shock at the stranger who’d struck her.
‘You’re drenched in him.’ The Alpha female sniffed. ‘Lie on the bed and spread your legs so I may see.’
‘I don’t know who the fuck you are, but back off!’
There was a tutting sound in the air. ‘You can obey, or I will have Shepherd force you.’
‘Then get him to force me… I don’t spread just because an Alpha bitch commands it.’
Before she might escape, an unyielding hand circled Claire’s throat. She was forced back until her knees bent and the Omega’s back hit the mattress. Clawing at the grip crushing her windpipe, Claire stared up into the unblinking blue eyes of a killer—what she saw there inspired more fear than she’d ever known.
The woman’s hand stroked under Claire’s skirt, fingers jamming inside her to swirl painfully around her dry womb. The brunette drew them out and tasted. ‘You are pregnant. How interesting.’
A second hand came to grip Claire’s neck. A tighter squeeze and her world began to go dark.
‘Svana.’ It was one word, spoken in a very dangerous tone.
The brunette cocked her head at the man standing in the door.
‘My love.’ Svana smiled. ‘Your plaything’s eyes are the wrong color. My eyes are blue.’
‘Release the Omega’s throat.’
With a playful smirk and a quick flourish of her fingers, Svana let Claire go. Coughing, sucking in air, Claire scrambled back, wide eyes looking at Shepherd, looking at the man who, though bonded to her, stood by and did nothing. Everything was wrong, the cord was jangled, and with horror, Claire witnessed total love in the expression Shepherd offered the Alpha female approaching him.
The exotic beauty petted her mate’s chest. Svana purred, ‘I have missed you. Get rid of your toy. I only have a few hours before I must return.’
Cupping the woman’s face, Shepherd explained, ‘The Omega is not permitted to leave this room.’
Svana shrugged her shoulders. ‘Then she can join in or watch. What a pity I missed her last cycle. We have not shared a heated Omega in some time.’
Shallow pants, that was all Claire could manage as she pressed herself against the wall and realized how truly depraved the man who had hooked an anchor into her chest really was. Now she understood. No chemicals from pregnancy, no pair-bond could change it. She was nothing to Shepherd. She had been manipulated to care for a monster who loved another—to be what the female had insisted: his plaything.
‘Claire, you will go into the bathroom and remain until I come for you.’
He had spoken her name. Dumbstruck, Claire stared at the two of them, stared as Shepherd—as her mate—touched another female affectionately.
When she made no movement to follow the command, a furious head snapped up and his silver eyes narrowed menacingly. ‘Go.’
She obeyed. Each step felt like walking on glass, but the pain was a blessing, a gift from the goddess of the Omegas. Claire’s mind began to clear, the influence of the cord began to weaken, and she began to feel nothing at all.
She closed the door behind her and sat alone. Staring the future dead in the face, she knew just what hell looked like.
The sound of the two Alphas fucking was nothing. Breathing was nothing. Where she had been slowly settling into life in that little grey room, she was now free of such petty things as further existence. A great crack ran through her chest, a fissure that bled vile, noxious gas into the air while Claire sat there in the dark, the music of evil coming through the door. There was nothing left for the greasy thread to hold onto. There was nothing left inside her… but she was still horribly Claire.
Later, Shepherd woke her where she slept against the wall. He pulled her up and sat her on the lid of the toilet so he could press a wet towel to her split lip. She looked him dead in the eye, a fierce, penetrating, nightmare of a gaze. When he said nothing, she began to laugh at him, loudly, the noise saturated in judgment.
He was pathetic… disgusting. And he was dead to her.
The expression that came was one of confusion—the look a small boy cornered by bullies wears. It was perfect.
A hard voice growled, ‘Svana is dangerous.’
Claire only laughed harder, the hoarse sound ruined by the damage to her throat. She laughed until her face was red, until her insides hurt. She laughed until she had to push past Shepherd and puke in the sink. Standing straight, she wiped her stinging mouth with the back of her hand and, still snickering, walked out of the bathroom and into a room that, if she had any reason to breathe, would have smelled utterly tainted.
It was just four grey walls, every crack known to her—a box with nothing in it.
Her nest was a wreck, so Claire lay down in the middle of the floor and closed her eyes. It almost felt like she was merging with the earth, becoming one with the endless, lifeless room.
It was beautiful.
When she woke, it was bright outside, Claire felt it in her bones. She stared at the ceiling imagining the way sunlight must glint off the Dome. She was alone again. Food was on the table waiting for her. Standing, she took the plate, carried it to the bathroom, and flushed everything down the toilet. Dropping the vitamin, her lips sounded out the word, ‘plop,’ as it fell into the swishing water. The empty plate was returned to the tray and she went right back to her warm outline on the floor. A whole day passed.
The door opened. Her listless eyes found the blue-eyed Beta had come with another tray. The Follower moved past her as if she did not exist.
Devoid of feeling, Claire croaked, ‘I don’t know your name.’
Deadpan, he answered, ‘I’m Jules. Shepherd desires that you do not forget the vitamin.’
The empty tray was taken. He walked by without even looking at her.
The door was locked and Claire made sure she followed Shepherd’s mandate. She flushed all the food, and unquestionably, did not forget the vitamin. After all, now that she was hollow inside, it was nice to have the grey room to herself. She showered, changed her clothing, brushed her hair… all the things living people were supposed to do. Then she went right back to that spot on the floor to rot.
Inevitably, enough time passed. The sound of combat boots thudded against the ground and the devil was crouching over her. A purr sounded and Claire opened her eyes, entirely unimpressed.
She felt nothing.
Shepherd picked her up, her body hanging limp, and took off the fresh dress, putting her in the bed. The sheets must have been changed. Either that or she had lost the pattern of Shepherd’s scent. Everything just smelled flat. The man slid in beside her, naked, and eased up close. As he did everything he wanted, taking what she never offered, he pressed his chest to hers and growled.
Nothing.
He spread her legs, growled again, and let his fingers dance between her thighs. Whatever he was doing, Claire only stared at the ceiling, seeing instead the overcast night sky. She did not make a noise when a foreign presence pushed uncomfortably into her unprepared body. She just lay there through all of it, unsure how long he tried, how hard he worked… because she didn’t care. An odd stretch let her know that the sweating, grunting thing had knotted.
Still nothing.
While their bodies were locked, she heard the distant sound of a low, raspy voice and ignored it. There were tugs at her hair, the smooth strokes of hands. Claire yawned. Sleep was immediate.
Walking through the Undercroft where her kind had been locked away, Nona maintained her ramrod spine despite the two large Followers yanking her about. She had not been troubled or questioned for weeks, and wondered what asinine things they would waste her time with now. When the door opened and she was pressed into the room, even she could not hide the quirk in her brow or the sudden feeling of dread when she found it was not the Beta, Jules, who sat at the table.
Even seated, the Alpha was massive.
‘She seems to think standing as you do serves a purpose as well. But you are still Omega and you know that resistance to one such as I is pointless,’ Shepherd explained, his voice conversational, though the nature of his expression was anything but pleasant.
Nona took a seat without being asked, old enough to know better than to engage male taunts.
The man began. ‘You are the de facto leader of this Omega pack—’
Nona interjected, ‘I am not. We function as a democracy.’
‘How have you found the provided accommodations?’
‘Prison-like,’ Nona answered, watching him just as callously as he watched her.
Shepherd was not impressed with her bravado. ‘I have supplied you with clean water, wholesome food, warm blankets, shelter…’
‘Your rationalization is faulty.’ Nona tapped the desk. ‘All those comforts are only to prepare the Omegas for slavery to a stranger.’
‘You are the one who corrupted her into thinking the way she does.’
Now that was interesting. Cocking her head, Nona asked, ‘Excuse me?’
‘Of the eight Omegas pair-bonded since arrival into my keeping, all have accepted their place—behaving as they should.’
It was foolish to smile, one good swing and he could rip her head off her shoulders, but Nona allowed the expression. There was a catch to his statement, an underlying irritation that exposed his own less than perfect relationship. ‘There is nothing I can tell you that would make Claire be what she is not. I have droned on for hours about the foods I know she likes, her hobbies… all questions you could have asked her yourself.’
‘Your only use to me, old woman, is information that will help settle my mate.’ Contemplating how easily he could crush the old woman’s throat, Shepherd warned, ‘Do not think to posture or advise.’
‘Then get to the point.’
The slight flaring of his silver eyes, the sudden stink of hostility—he was far less steady in his aloofness than he pretended. ‘I am beginning to suspect you have outlived your usefulness. There is room for your body to swing next to the other Omegas.’
‘If there is something wrong with Claire, I would do anything to help her,’ Nona argued, more than happy to honestly express her anger. ‘Whatever insight you seek, just ask.’
‘My mate has grown withdrawn.’
Scowling, Nona wondered how the hell he could possibly be surprised. With her lips in a line, she waited for the man to continue.
Shepherd leaned nearer, barking, ‘Are you going to say nothing?’
‘I am unsure what you expect me to say,’ Nona maintained. ‘That is not a word I have ever heard used to describe Claire. She is usually quite vocal. Whatever she is now, you have created in your treatment of her.’
‘At the separate deaths of her parents, what drew her out of her melancholy?’
‘Time, and the support of people she loved.’
It was clear the answer was unacceptable, that the giant had reached the end of his patience.
The man made her sick and the sentiment was obvious in Nona’s accusation. ‘Do you behave this way with her, as well? She won’t respond to it.’
‘I am very careful with Claire.’
Something in his words made her feel he was lying, or that he was careful in the way one holds a newborn kitten—an unnatural way to behave with a mate. Sniffing the air, leaning forward to make her appraisal obvious, Nona found very little of Claire’s scent on the man. ‘And you have studied her like a specimen, with information gathered from outside sources. Why? To manipulate the situation to your liking?’
‘Of course.’
‘Apparently your strategy has failed.’ That was it. ‘There is nothing I can say to help you, Alpha.’
Shepherd’s glare threatened torment. ‘There will be no food for any Omega over the next three days. All will be notified that you were the cause of starvation.’
How funny the world was. Everything was in reverse. Claire sat in a chair, her head resting atop her palm, while Shepherd was the one pacing. Back and forth, back and forth. He was like an agitated dinosaur.
Claire made a noise.
The great hulk stopped and looked at her. He spoke.
She heard nothing.
Her thin fingers began to drum against the table. And again the beast prowled. Eventually, he tugged her up, as he had done with every visit, and he took her dress. It was the same: the mattress at her back, his useless growl, and then whatever tricks he had thought up to seduce her body. Shepherd thought to be clever, smoothing a great portion of lubricant on his jutting cock before he began the rut. He thrust this way and that way, just like his disturbed pacing. He tried everything to get a response, even trying to coax a kiss from her slack lips, to whisper in her ear, to caress and stare into eyes that were far away.
‘Little one, come back.’
She would never come back. Not to him. Not to the beast who had made her want him once and betrayed her so thoroughly.
Claire fell asleep while Shepherd was still moving inside her.
Eventually, the Alpha figured out what she was doing with the meals delivered while he was away. Not that it was hard to discover when she did not even look at the food he brought her. His mate was growing wan, dark circles under her eyes, and no matter what he pushed between her lips, she would not swallow. She would only stare with those dead eyes, stare straight at him, daring him to try and make her eat.
As he slammed his hand on the table, the metal groaned. Claire stared right back, and lazily spat out everything in her mouth, letting it fall into her lap. There was a roar, the entirety of her tray thrown across the room to slam against the wall. A paw wrenched her from the chair, a blanket wrapped too tight around her. Shepherd had her in his arms. The metal was thrown back, her concrete walls disappeared. They passed a fire extinguisher she had seen before, a blue door, a room full of COMmonitors, only that time there were men in the room, men in the halls—Followers saluting the giant who ignored them as he stormed past.
The sound of boots on concrete stairs, grunted orders Claire ignored, and a door opened to blasting cold. Atmosphere, fresh air… she’d seen such things lying on the floor staring through the ceiling. It was nothing special. Claire closed her eyes.
Shepherd was having none of it. Great arms shook her, jarring her body until her eyes opened. He set her down on her feet and backed away so that she had to stand on her own. Claire did, knowing something that no other man on that terrace knew. A mind could learn entirely new things almost instantly when it was utterly devoid, eyes saw minutiae that thinking minds missed. She stood on her own two feet and looked up at the snowing sky… feeling the large white flakes melt on her cheeks.
Snow that thick was a sign the Dome had been damaged, the arctic creeping in. The engineers responsible for colonial safety had failed.
Hadn’t they all failed?
Seeing her stand, the beast drew a relieved breath behind her.
No one could have known what she was going to do. Not one of them could have suspected it. Under the pretense of a yawn, Claire cracked her neck, and rolled her shoulders in a way that loosened the blanket. Then, in a burst of speed, she darted like a hare and bounded over the edge of the Citadel terrace to fall into darkness before any could reach her.
The inertia of limp bodies absorbed force far differently than stiff flailing ones. Claire knew that. What she didn’t know was that even high fluffy piles of snow really, really hurt when you jumped off a building to land in one.
There was a general outcry above her, but the fresh powder sucked her in, hiding her long enough to slip down an icy corridor only someone as small as an Omega could fit through. Then she did what she did best. Claire ran.
From above, it looked as if she had simply vanished. Since she was already dead inside, she may as well have.
