Morning #2
I sink my teeth into one of the warm cakes, and it melts like sunlight on my tongue. Soft, airy, a hint of citrus—it tastes like mornings should. Like something good is coming.
For a second, we all eat in silence, the four of us cramped around our little kitchen table. Crumbs falling, mouths full, coffee mugs clinking. I love my pack. Loud, messy, a little dysfunctional—but strong. Solid.
“Knox?” Dakota sets down the last bite, leaning away from his plate.
I hum in response, downing the last of my coffee. “What’s up?”
But he hesitates. That’s the first sign something’s off.
Dakota doesn’t hesitate. He barrels through life like it’s a gym circuit—fast, sweaty, and loud. But right now, his hand hovers near his hoodie pocket, and he won’t look any of us in the eye.
Alex notices too. His smile fades as he sets his half-eaten pastry on a napkin. “Dakota?” he says gently. “You okay?”
“I—yeah. I mean, I’m fine. I just…” He scratches the back of his neck, then finally meets my eyes. “I found something yesterday. At the gym. In the locker room."
Alex leans back in his chair, raising both eyebrows. “It’s a little early for confessions about locker room hookups,” he snorts.
Dakota flips him off automatically, but there’s no real heat in it.
Tadeo gives Alex a pointed look. “Don’t joke. Go on, Dakota.” He reaches out, rubbing his upper back.
“Talk to me, beta.” I set down my empty mug, waiting.
Dakota swallows, then finally pulls something out of his hoodie pocket—a single sheet of paper, bright orange and a little crumpled.
He hands it to me, and I unfold it.
The flier has bold blocky letters across the top:
The Morder
and beneath that, in smaller text:
Discreet. Untraceable. Unregulated. Everything you’re looking for in a mate…and everything you’re not.
There’s a QR code printed in the bottom corner, partially smudged like someone tried to rub it off. The whole thing smells faintly of iron and industrial cleaner, and there’s a reddish stain along the top edge. Blood splatter?
“This was in the locker room at the gym?” I ask.
“In the bathroom stall,” Dakota says. “Taped to the back of the toilet tank. I saw the edge of it while I was pissing. Someone clearly didn’t want it to be easy to find.”
Alex leans in, all trace of amusement draining from his face. “Did you scan the code?”
Dakota shakes his head. “I didn't want to do it on my phone. Figured if it was a trick, it might ping something...bad.” He shrugs, not sure.
I stare down at the flier, unease twisting with curiosity in my gut. That name—The Morder—isn’t unfamiliar. I’ve heard it talked about many times from alphas who didn’t have a chance in hell at getting a mate…and yet somehow did. Alphas like me and Alex.
“Get my burner,” I say.
Alex is already moving. The table jolts as he stands, sending a few pieces of unopened mail slipping onto the floor. He returns a moment later, work phone in hand, eyes locked on mine.
Tadeo watches carefully. “Do you think it’s safe to scan?”
“It’s a secure line,” I reply, already unlocking the phone. “If it tries to install a virus or something like that, I’ll know.” I lift it and scan the code.
It loads almost instantly.
A simple, low-res map appears on the burner’s screen. Mostly forested territory. No town names. No roads labeled. Just a red pin, blinking in the middle of nowhere, tucked up near the northern edge of the territory line. Too clean. Too intentional.
I tap the pin.
A single phrase appears:
Follow the orange markers.
That’s it.
No phone number. No point of contact. No fancy branding or secure verification. Just a red dot in the woods and cryptic instructions.
My stomach tightens, and for a second, all I can do is stare at it.
This might really be it.
The real omega black market. The one whispered about in courtrooms and prisons and back-alley bars. The one where unpolished alphas come back with what they never could’ve earned legally. An omega.
Holy fuck.
Alex notices the look on my face, and his eyes widen with worry. He straightens in his seat, his body tensing like a predator scenting something rare.
“What is it?” Tadeo stares intensely at my face.
I turn the phone so they can all see. “I think it’s actually the black market.”
“No way,” Alex breathes, eyes wide. His voice is half a laugh, half a whisper. “Holy shit.” He looks at Dakota. “This had better not be a fucking joke.”
Dakota holds up both hands, serious now. “I swear it’s not. I wouldn’t mess with something like this. I found it exactly how I said.”
“Orange markers?” Tadeo leans in closer, arms crossed tight over his chest. His gaze flickers over the screen, then back to me. His jaw ticks once. “They really expect people to find a bunch of random orange markers hidden in a giant forest?”
“Looks like it,” I say, trying to temper my expectations.
After all, this could be a prank of some kind or a trick…but what if it isn’t?
I’ve known so many alphas over the years, desperate to find the Morder, but it’s one of those things that you assume is a rumor. A pipe dream for sad fucks like me that would never qualify to get an omega any other way.
“We have to go,” Alex says, voice rising with excitement. “We have to fucking go.” He laughs like this is a dream come true. “We could actually get an omega, Knox. We could—”
“It could be a trap.” Tadeo’s brow furrows, but his voice stays calm. “It’s not smart to blindly follow directions given to us by a QR code found taped behind a toilet. The governance board runs stings for this kind of thing all the time.”
“Not up north,” Dakota says with a snort. “Laws are more like suggestions up there.”
Alex smiles at the beta, then turns to Tadeo.
“I get what you’re saying, Tad, but we gotta at least check it out.
” He leans in, speaking softly, but firmly.
“Because of Knox and I’s records, we will never be allowed to claim an omega through proper channels.
Ever. But this,” his gaze flickers to the burner still in my hand, “this could be a real chance to complete our pack. Why not take it?”
Tadeo frowns, clearly not convinced.
Dakota finally speaks up, his voice soft and respectful, but not uncertain.
“Look, I know I’ve only been with you guys for a little over a year, but I know for a fact that you all want an omega.
” He looks right at Tadeo. “All three of you do.” His eyes narrow, as something silent passes between them.
Maybe they had a private conversation about this?
Tadeo’s lips press into a tight line, and that’s all the confirmation I need to know Dakota’s telling the truth.
Of course Tadeo wants an omega—every alpha does.
But, because of me and Alex, Tadeo will never get to have one.
It’s a shame.
The young alpha’s got a clean record. A master’s degree in accounting and he’s a registered CPA.
He has a real job as a CFO at a small startup, where he wears ties five days a week while he messes with spreadsheets.
He could’ve had his pick of any omega at any academy.
Hell, I even tried to talk him out of joining my pack.
Told him he could do better and didn’t belong with me and Alex, and our rust-bucket, low-rent lifestyle.
He said he’d rather spend the rest of his life with us—and never have an omega—than leave for some fantasy that could end up being a disappointment anyway.
He told us he’s met some awful omegas before, and there was no guarantee he’d get one that he could grow to love.
He went on and on about how submission didn’t make up for a shitty personality.
At the time, I believed him.
And I guess I still do.
But it makes sense that he’d want an omega, too. We alphas are wired to crave them. Our kind spends our whole lives seeking out the delicate creatures. The need to claim, mate, and breed is practically in our DNA.
And this might be my only chance to give my pack what they really want—what they deserve.
“Knox?” Dakota glances at the flyer on the kitchen table, then at me. “We have to at least check it out.” He looks so hopeful. “Right?”
I lean back in my chair, the burner phone still in my hand. “I think we’d be fools not to,” I say at last, tucking the phone into my pocket. “We can head up north a few days early and scope it out.”
“When is it?” Alex asks, already on his feet.
Tadeo glances up at the excited alpha, eyes narrowed with worry, but he doesn’t say anything.
“The flyer says it’s in five days.” I glance at the orange sheet lying on the table. “We take the trip. Stay quiet. Tad?” I look at the young alpha. “Can you take a few days off from work? Give us enough time to head up there early and scope it out?”
Tadeo presses his lips together, then nods once.
Dakota leans forward, eyes bright. “And if it’s legit?”
“Then we’ll do what we have to do to bring home an omega.”
Alex lets out a wild whoop, practically bouncing in place, while Dakota grins—quiet but electric. Tadeo exhales a slow, measured breath, like he’s torn between doubt and hope that this might actually be real.
My gaze lands on the flier, and my heart starts pounding thinking about it. We could actually claim a real, precious, beautiful omega.
Holy fuck.
Excited, I look around the kitchen. At the stray nuts and bolts littering the windowsill, the empty takeout containers balancing on top of the fridge, and the gym towel draping over the back of a chair like it belongs there.
There’s even a single sock sitting in the fruit bowl. I’m not really surprised.
We can’t bring an omega into this mess.
We’re definitely going to need to clean up before we leave.