The Alpha Hitman's Mate: An M/M Mpreg Shifter Romance (Omegas of the Shifter Mafia Book 2)

Chapter One

I tore a strip off the bottom of my shirt. Not a large one. I didn’t want to get caught intentionally destroying my clothing. That would only result in them taking what few clothes I had away from me. Or worse—they would decide I was trying to “seduce” them, and I’d be no better off than the omegas they’d sold off for breeding.

Best-case scenario, I’d have washed and disinfected both the cloth and my foot before wrapping it up. This was far from the best case anything, and I had to do the best I could with what I had.

I flinched at the pain as the cloth hit my largest blister. What I really needed was moleskin, but they barely gave me food to stave off my starvation. They weren’t going to give me actual medical supplies. Had I been better fed, my beast stronger—a shift could help heal me faster. But really, even if I was stronger, I wasn’t allowed to shift, and doing so to heal what cuts and blisters I had now wouldn’t be worth it.

Keeping my head down, working my hardest, and waiting for an opportunity to fight my way out of here…that was the best plan, the one I had to keep reminding myself I had. To think that when I was “rescued” from my last captivity, I thought I was being brought to freedom. They told me it was going to be a safe place to stay while we recovered from our trauma and that we’d be able to go from there to a brand-new better life.

The “safe place” was a freaking shifter trafficking warehouse, and I ended up here. I wasn’t sure of the details of my transfer, if I was even worth a hundred bucks to these assholes. All of that was in another room, the people running it fearing we’d ruin their profit. The “high-end” omegas, the ones I overheard went for thousands, had all given birth to at least one child. Me? I was a dud. They’d never been able to get me pregnant. I was glad. Who wants to bring a child into this bullshit? Not me, that’s for sure.

I tied off the bandage and crawled onto the cot they called my bed. Once upon a time, it was probably the height of camping luxury. But it was mattress-less, a thousand years old, and designed for a night or two, not for everyday use. I wasn’t going to be the one to complain though. It was a step up from my last place. There, only the pregnant omegas got beds at all.

From my spot, I could look out the cracked window. The glass had at one time been painted over and still had a blurry tint to it, but it let the moonlight in and, if I squinted just right, I could see the moon and the stars.

I watched for a few minutes, hoping to spot a falling star I could wish on. None came. They never did. But I couldn’t give up trying. At least that felt like I was doing something more than waiting.

Morning came all too quickly here, and I forced myself to give up on my shooting star and go to sleep. If I didn’t, my tomorrow would be worse than today, and today was one of the worst I had in a while.

The alphas were being extra harsh, their beasts close. They were nervous about something, and a nervous wolf was a dangerous wolf, even when they weren’t normally cruel bastards as these were.

I counted my breaths, pushing everything else far away, to allow myself some rest. I’d gotten better about falling asleep than when I first arrived. Having a door that stuck helped. Hearing when someone came in, even if I was sleeping, gave me a layer of protection I hadn’t had in a long time, as minimal as it was.

A layer of protection I was thrilled to get when I was yanked from my sleep by an alpha demanding I come and make them food. I didn’t argue. I didn’t even hesitate. I learned that lesson my first day here. Instead, I promised them I’d be right on it. From the night sky, I doubted I’d slept even a half an hour.

I ran to the kitchen and looked for ingredients. They needed to go shopping, and I’d already been piecing things together for a couple of days. Thankfully they didn’t ask for anything specific. They wanted food. Food I could do.

Based on how quickly the drunk asses usually wanted their demands met, I opted for breakfast. It was quick, and we had everything. They probably wanted steaks, but they’d have to hit the store before that happened.

It only took a few minutes to have everything cooking and plates lined up.

Tritan, one of the crueler alphas, came in and threw one of the empty egg cartons on the floor. He’d been doing that a lot—messing things up and then blaming me for them. I wasn’t sure what his end game was, if there was one. I had a feeling he just enjoyed it.

“Be more careful, omega. If you keep messing up…let’s just say…you’re replaceable.”

“Sorry, alpha.” I hated the way my voice quivered. I was stronger than this. Or at least I wanted to be.

“What are you sorry for?” A growl built in his chest. Fuck. How much had he been drinking?

“I’m sorry I wasn’t more careful.”

“Good. Because you don’t want me to go nab another omega to take your place, do you?”

The horrible thing was that I did. Even knowing how vile it was here, at my weakest, I wished it wasn’t me they’d picked which, by default, meant part of me wanted it to be someone else. This place sure messed with my head.

This was the first time anyone referred to me coming here as being “nabbed,” and I’d probably have thought about that word choice longer had he not stomped on my bandaged toe on his way out. Holding back that scream took every ounce of effort I had. But if I didn’t, there would be plenty more where it came from. It was better to follow my plan:

Head down.

Work my hardest.

Wait for a chance to fight.