Chapter 2
Andrew
“I’ve been sacked?”
The world around me tilts dangerously to one side and stills, my brain halting nearly all function.
Councilman Damir Ivanov scoffs, throwing a look of disgust my way.
“You were never an employee, Laurant. You were an experiment. A failed one.” His arm waves about my office, his head shaking side to side.
“It’s obvious putting one of you people in a position like this was a mistake.
We’ve lost four Cursed with no way to track them.
And one of them was purchased by my government.
” His eyes narrow on me. “The Kingdom of Russia does not like to lose its investments.”
An overwhelming pressure drops onto my shoulders and chest, making it hard to move or even breathe.
I no longer have a position at the school. What does that mean?
“If your curse was worthwhile, I’d take you instead. But it’s not.” He scoffs. “Someone else will find use for you.”
My head shoots up. “What?”
His laughter is bitter. “Next quarter, you’ll become someone else’s property.” His hand waves in my direction. “I don’t expect you to fetch much revenue.”
The world begins to spin around me, my ears ringing.
“This is no longer your office. Leave.”
I don’t remember exiting the office, nor returning to my quarters, but when cognizance returns to me, that’s where I find myself, sitting on the edge of my bed, shell-shocked and silent.
I’m going to be sold next quarter.
For years, I’d been immune to becoming some nation’s pawn in a war, cozy and safe at the academy. In that time, I’ve watched thousands of Cursed be trained and sold off, always with a sense of relief.
“At least it isn’t me.”
I knew that everyone hated me. The Cursed for my security, the GBE soldiers, because I’m Cursed.
No one hated me more than Colton Walker.
The feeling was mutual, although for entirely different reasons.
Colt hated me for my complacency, and I hated Colt for being my replacement.
He didn’t even know it, despite his ability to hear others’ thoughts. That very curse of his was why he was deemed more valuable than me, someone who could only feel emotions and nudge a few light objects around a room with my mind. Not exactly valuable power.
Weak enough to keep under their thumb.
But I’d heard members of the GBE discussing Colton, trying to figure out how to stop his panic episodes, get him to control his abilities.
Despite this knowledge and his hatred of me, I tried to help him however I could. I didn’t really know why until he challenged me, telling me to pick a side.
I had chosen my side; I just hadn’t realized it yet.
There is a rebellion out there. A group of Cursed living outside the confines of the GBE, out from under its boot.
One thing about being quiet and never making waves is that eventually, you blend into the background, forgotten, and the enemy grows careless, speaking freely around you. That’s how I found out that the rebellion was real. That’s also how I found out that the GBE had no idea what to do about them.
Fear can be paralyzing.
Before that paralysis sets in on me, I force myself to leave my room and venture downstairs, seeking whatever comfort I may be able to find.
The academy has never had so many soldiers in it, not in the twenty-one years I’ve been here, as a student and part of the faculty.
They’re everywhere, lining walls, patrolling corridors, rifles at their backs and collar controls on their hips.
It’s a sea of black uniforms with emblazoned red patches.
Some of the soldiers have familiar faces, most of them don’t.
The alarm had wailed nearly all night, likely drowning out the sound of the incoming air traffic that unloaded these new additions.
I don’t need to use my curse to know that everyone is on edge.
The students’ expressions are fearful, their movements jerky and defensive.
The soldiers are either hyper-fixated on every collared individual who passes by, or clutch their weapons a bit tighter when more than a few gather near at once.
When I reach the third-floor cafeteria, it’s eerily silent, save for the occasional clinking of glasses or cutlery. Not a murmur of conversation floats through the air, and it’s utterly unsettling.
My eyes zero in on Nyx. Her blood red hair is piled high atop the back of her head, those big chocolate eyes flitting about the room until they land on me.
She’s seated at a table with her friend Arlowe, her pin-straight brown hair in its usual asymmetrical pixie cut, deep purple eyes tinged red around their whites.
And Erich, whose back is to me, sits on Nyx’s other side, his black hair a bit more disheveled than normal, his inky flame tattoos crawling out from under the neck of his black tee-shirt, licking his hairline.
I walk as calmly as possible, my focus steady on Nyx. When Arlowe notices my approach, she switches to the unoccupied seat, giving me free rein to sit beside my Omega.
My Omega.
Never in my life had I thought I would ever utter those words, even in my thoughts. But things change.
And how they have changed since last night.
I nod at Arlowe when I reach the pulled-out chair she’d vacated, and her head tilts in response.
When I sit, I flatten my lips between my teeth, looking from Nyx to Erich and back.
Touching either of them to express my innermost thoughts and fears would not be a good plan, surrounded by so many soldiers whose thoughts are filled with violence.
So I look down at the table a moment in silence.
“What happened?”
Nyx’s voice is more air than whisper, and my eyes slide to her. I try to keep my response as quiet as her question.
“I’m no longer faculty.”
There’s a rush of emotion around me. From Arlowe, confusion. From Nyx, a spike of fear. And from Erich, surprisingly, dark and smoldering rage.
“What the fuck?” he seethes through gritted teeth.
“They don’t want to work with Cursed any longer.”
“Because of…?” Nyx doesn’t finish her question, and she doesn’t have to.
“The escape is just one reason.”
“The rebellion.” Arlowe offers this, even quieter than the rest of us, surely understanding the danger of uttering such a phrase.
I nod in affirmation.
None of us speaks for a long while, but then Nyx breathes out, “What else?”
I stifle a humorless laugh. She knows me better than I had given her credit for.
“I’ll be gone after this quarter.”
A small gasp from Nyx, and a bubbling growl from Erich, while Arlowe’s head drops.
“It’s going to be all right,” I breathe, despite my disbelief. I have to remain strong. For her.
“This is unfair.” Arlowe surprises me with her venomous tone, and I look up at her. Those purple eyes are filled with rage, her jaw tight to match.
And that’s when I remember her turmoil, her torment. Finding her fated Alpha, just to have him torn away.
Kiyoshi Sato, sold years ago to the East Asian Empire as a frontline soldier.
The violence swarming her brain is like nothing I’ve ever felt from her. She is willing to do something that will put herself at risk for the sake of Nyx, her best friend.
I can’t allow it.
Beneath the table, I press one fingertip to her knee. You mustn’t, I say in her mind. Nyx will need you. Don’t throw your life away.
Her eyes narrow on me, but she calms a bit, takes in a deep breath, and lets it out slow with a nod of her head.
I take my hand back with a deep breath of my own, a sigh of relief.
Turning to Nyx, I force a small smile, but her brown eyes are swimming.
All I want is to wrap her in my arms, hold her tight, comfort her. But here, surrounded by the GBE and their weapons, I can do nothing to ease my Omega’s pain.
And my heart is shredded for it.
Sleep will not come. Still.
It’s been days since the escape, and despite my exhaustion, I am unable to stay asleep for more than a few minutes at a time, always waiting for something to happen.
My bed, once comfortable and soft, feels like lying on a steel girder.
I roll onto my side with a sigh and think of Nyx.
Now that Mira is gone, like me, she’s all alone in her room.
When I imagine her here with me, taking her into my arms and holding her close, I’m met with an overwhelming sense of sadness. But this emotion isn’t mine.
It’s Nyx’s.
I sit up in bed with a start, brow tightly drawn, breath coming fast.
I need to be with her. There’s nothing to protect us from any longer, aside from death. And we could all die after next quarter’s auction. I wouldn’t put it past these monsters to auction most of us off in one grand gathering of the global territories. Some feigned show of strength.
Then we’ll be separated, forced to go to war to fight and die for lands we have likely never seen.
Perhaps we’d even be pitted against one another in battle.
Dying together, in her arms, would be blissful in comparison. I know she would agree.
I throw off the covers, pull on a pair of slacks, shove my bare feet into a pair of loafers, slide my arms through the nearest button-down shirt I can find, and burst through my door into the hall without closing either the door or my shirt.
I can feel the thoughts of the guards as I slink down the hallway, always out of sight, always following many steps behind their path.
I keep myself open to feeling the emotions of those around me to guide my movements as I creep down the curved stairway to the third floor, slide along the wall in shadow until I see her door.
When I’m certain no one is near, I dash across the hall and rap on it, soft but firm.
There’s rustling inside the room before the door swings open, and my fierce goddess of an Omega stands before me, jaw set, eyes flaring, a ball of blue crackling electricity in her raised fist.
Recognition washes over her, and she gapes at me, her breath catching as the blue lightning vanishes from her grasp and her arm falls to her side.
Twice, she attempts to speak, her mouth opening and closing, and I grin at her like a fool, chest filled with so much love, I’m nearly overwhelmed. Then I do something I’ve never done before: step over the threshold and into her bedroom.
After gently closing the door behind my back, I pull Nyx into my bare chest, enveloping her in my arms and squeezing tightly.
She sighs against my skin before her arms snake around my waist, under my open shirt.
Her scent increases the longer we’re joined, fresh fallen autumn leaves mixed with ozone, like a sweet rainy day, fill my lungs and make me long for a cozy cottage in the country. Somewhere we could raise a family in safety. A place we deserve.
Nyx pulls back from my embrace just enough to look into my eyes, her pale hand moving up to caress my jaw.
Her warm fingertips flutter against the stubble I haven’t shaved in the last few days, glide down my neck, then sternum.
My breath stutters in time with hers, growing ragged as both our scents further intensify, mingling and filling the room.
My cock stiffens, and I groan, pulling her body back against mine, pressing myself into her belly, dipping my face down into the crook of her neck with a sigh.
I want her so badly, my entire body aches for her touch.
When I open my mouth to tell her as much, there’s a loud knock at the door.