Prologue #2
Lincoln spun to glare at him, and the fact that Lucky couldn’t scent his Override at this close distance meant he’d gone off his government-mandated meds. “I paid double what you asked to have you bring him to me. Now hand him over.”
“To you? No. I brought him to a safe place, where he’ll be kept until we find the right buyer. The folk in Sikka will love him.”
The thought of being trafficked outside of Threnul Province made Lucky feel sick.
If he was taken to Sikka, his parents would need to battle the Sikka government to find him.
Lucky wasn’t even sure if anyone knew he was missing.
Gigi might not understand the risk or the connection to the Market and Jack was lucky to still be alive, never mind able to talk.
The police could waste precious hours tracking the wrong people because Lucky hadn’t left any clues.
“He’s mine.” Lincoln practically growled at Scout.
“I belong to no one!” Lucky ground the words out through gritted teeth, struggling to contain his emotions now that Lincoln, the cause of all his problems, was in front of him.
Lincoln backhanded him, his ring catching Lucky’s lip. He had the audacity to look stunned, but the fact it had been instinct was more disgusting than if he’d done it on purpose to shut him up.
Lucky’s cheek burned with the pain of the impact, his lip stinging from what he presumed was a cut, but he refused to cry out.
Scout rushed in with a utility knife that materialised from nowhere to press to Lincoln’s throat. “Watch how you talk to me and don’t damage the product!” he said, his low threat more terrifying than Lincoln’s tantrum. He glanced at Lucky, eyebrows furrowed. “You hurt?”
Lucky spat at his feet to get the taste of blood out of his mouth. “Your merchandise is unscathed. If you want me to stay that way, give me that knife.”
Scout laughed, clearly surprised, but removed the weapon from Lincoln’s throat and flipped the knife to hold the blade instead of the handle. “Go ahead.”
Lucky swallowed his nerves and accepted the knife, aware there was only one thing he could do to save himself.
Stabbing either of these two bastards would only help him short term.
Without the seemingly docile boss around, Scout’s crew would delight in hurting Lucky in ways he would never recover from.
Hurting Lincoln would just be a minor distraction, but it would make him feel better.
Lucky undid the tie from his plait, letting his hair cascade to his waist, then grabbed a handful three inches from the bottom and cut it off.
He sucked his split lip into his mouth and spat blood onto the hair before making a fist and closing his eyes.
Omha, I need help. This alpha is a danger to us all.
Teach him never to lay his hand on an omega again.
Let him feel Your wrath and suffer whatever he does to me tenfold, to show him Your power.
Lucky opened his eyes, vision blurring at the edges as he blew the hairs at Lincoln. He had faith that Omha wouldn’t turn a blind eye to his plea. Folding the knife, he returned it Scout, who hesitated before taking it back.
“What did you―?” Lincoln hissed and raised a hand to his cheek, where an angry red mark marred the skin.
Lucky smiled, relieved that Omha had heard him. That truly was his pain tenfold, as the wound was deep and already dripping blood. “I told you Omha would protect me.”
Scout sniffed and rubbed a thumb over his bottom lip, unconcerned that Lincoln glared at him. They had a staring match that made Lucky worry they might start fighting for power. He was relieved when a light knock at the door broke the awkward moment.
Scout opened the door to admit a man who filled the doorway, then glanced at Lucky. “Good timing. The appraiser is here.”
The appraiser was the one who would decide where Lucky would be shipped to, how much he was worth, and who would conduct a medical check.
He’d heard about appraisers hiding in the government, the medical community, even in the police.
He prayed he recognised the face beneath that baseball cap—if it was someone who worked with his father, Lucky may have an ally to help him escape.
When the man raised his head, Lucky’s hope died.
He was a stranger. Taller than Scout, he was broad and muscled, clearly fit enough to deal with Lucky if he fought back.
He wore a white shirt open at the collar that clung to his biceps, short sleeves rolled around a packet of cigarettes on one side, a pair of beat-up black jeans, and heavy work boots.
“I hear we got a firecracker?” The man scanned the room and paused to stare at Lucky, lips lifting into a smile. “I’m almost disappointed. You’re nought but a cute little flower,” he said, a comment so demeaning that Lucky didn’t have a comeback.
Scout snorted and shut the door behind the appraiser. “He’s a spitfire. With the sigils, the hair and figure, we’ve got a pot of gold on our hands.”
The appraiser crouched in front of Lucky and tipped his baseball cap to reveal thick dark hair and cerulean blue eyes. “You’re cute, no doubt. A true believer, which we’ll need to consider. It might put folk off.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“No, you’re not.” Lincoln’s voice took him by surprise, as he appeared behind the sofa.
A sharp pain in his neck made Lucky hiss. He glanced at Lincoln, stunned by his satisfied smirk and the sight of a syringe in his hand. Almost in slow motion, Lincoln dropped the syringe and reached for Lucky, fingers an inch from his neck when Lucky instinctively moved out of reach.
It was clear Lincoln had caught the appraiser and Scout unaware, but they quickly sprang into motion. Scout reached across the sofa to grab Lincoln, dragging him away from Lucky as his vision grew hazy, his limbs suddenly limp as noodles.
He loved noodles.
Someone shouted at Lincoln, who fought to free himself from Scout’s grasp, still reaching for Lucky. He couldn’t make out the words, but the appraiser stayed crouched in front of Lucky and used two hands under his chin to tilt his head up.
“Look at me, Lucky.” His voice was calm and full of authority.
“No! He’s mine!” Lincoln struggled against Scout, slipping free to graze a touch across Lucky’s cheek. He choked on what sounded like a sob and deflated, fingertips sliding off Lucky’s skin as Scout dragged him away. “He was mine!”
Scout shoved a gun under his chin, which silenced his wailing, giving Lucky a brief reprieve from the noise.
“Lucky, look at me!” The appraiser held his face still, gently tapping his cheeks.
“Look at me, omega.” The order shot straight to his bones, bolstered by a blast of alpha flare he couldn’t resist. Lucky caught and held the appraiser’s gaze, though the room was swimming.
“Keep looking at me.” The appraiser petted his hair, so tender that his insides were in turmoil.
He didn’t want this man touching him, and yet all Lucky wanted in this moment was to sink into his arms and be comforted.
“Scout! What the fuck are we dealing with?”
The appraiser’s focus was drawn towards Scout long enough that Lucky could fight the brief flash of flare. Thank Omha the command hadn’t had enough strength and power behind it to last long.
Scout stood by the sofa, looking stricken, and released Lincoln. He shook his head, once then twice, staring at the appraiser like he was in shock. “He gave him OX.”
A momentary silence filled the room, while Lucky’s head swam. He didn’t understand what OX was, but he felt dizzy, his ears were ringing, and he wanted to throw up.
“Ford.” Scout’s voice shook, his eyes wide as the appraiser lifted his head with a frown. “You’re touching him.” He swallowed, looking as nauseated as Lucky felt.
Whatever that meant, the appraiser looked at his hands on Lucky’s skin then yanked them away as if he’d been burned. Lucky laid his forehead on Ford’s shoulder, while his insides roiled, threatening to melt into molten lava and incinerate the world.
“What the fuck!” Scout grabbed Lincoln and threw him towards the door. He stumbled into the solid surface, then Scout opened the door and shoved him into the hallway, slamming the door shut in his face.
Lincoln couldn’t take a hint, pounding the door, begging to be let back in. “I’ll take care of him!”
Lucky scoffed, leaning heavily on Ford’s shoulder.
He’d rather cut his stomach open and fall into the lava than let Lincoln within fifty feet.
He didn’t regret cursing him, but he wished he’d asked for his death instead of pain.
“Please, Omha. Make him pay.” He nearly toppled off the sofa as a spike of pain lanced through his stomach, until strong hands caught his shoulders and eased him against the cushions.
Scout stood behind Ford, so frantic with worry that Lucky decided not to add his own to the mix. He’d worry later.
“Where did he get OX? What the fuck do we do?”
Ford stared into Lucky’s eyes, looking so sad that part of him wanted to smooth the frown between his eyebrows.
A deeper part of him knew that this wasn’t a man to let close, that he was the enemy, probably pissed that Lincoln had tainted his merchandise.
“There’s nothing we can do, unless we can find his fated mate in the next hour.
” He cursed and removed his cap to rake a hand through his hair.
“The chain reaction of OX on an unclaimed, unmated omega is instant. Within an hour, he’ll go into heat. ”
Lucky looked at Ford, the sobering words fighting back the threat of oblivion trying to wash over him. He couldn’t even explain how fucked up this was. He wasn’t due his first heat for another three months. “No.”
Dropping the cap onto his head, Ford held Lucky’s gaze. “How the fuck do we find his true mate in one hour?”
Scout clasped his hands on top of his head, clearly at the end of his rope. “We should lock him in. We can’t let those bastards near this room or he’s a goner.”
Ford unfurled the lighter and pack of cigarettes from his sleeve, put one between his lips, and took his first puff before replacing them.
As the smoke clouded his face, long fingers removing the cigarette from between his lips, Ford cleared his throat.
“If we can’t find his mate by the hour, I’ll do it. You shouldn’t be involved.”
Scout swore and dropped his hands, walking away as though he couldn’t bear to be here.
The threat was real now. It had only been a possibility until he came into this room; something that had lingered at the back of his mind as a potential punishment if he pissed off the wrong person or pushed his limits. Now that Lincoln had drugged him, Lucky was on borrowed time.
Unless Ford and Scout could find his Gods-given mate in the next hour, he would lose his first heat―his first intimate experience, his virginity, his innocence, maybe even his life―to a complete stranger.
Lucky wished he could see Lincoln’s face when Omha made him burn for this.