Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
CILLIAN
M y comm unit buzzes for the third time in the last five minutes — Ares’s most recent attempt to reach me. I don’t know how I ended up needing to account for every fucking minute of my time, but it has never been this difficult to slip away from them before.
I silence the call without looking at the screen and shove the comm unit deeper into my pocket. The device vibrates once more with a voicemail notification.
Fucking ridiculous.
I’d left the apartment just before Logan and I came to blows over that damn Omega. We never fight, at least not like this. She disrupts our equilibrium so completely that I have to assume she does it on purpose.
So no matter what Logan’s opinion might be, this little errand can’t wait.
The causeways are deserted at this time of the evening. Honest types have already secured themselves safely in their homes, while the seedier element emerges to take over the night. Holovid announcements might claim that Capital City has never been safer, but that’s only because this time last year the blood of soldiers ran like a river through the streets.People might pretend that they don’t remember the most recent uprising, but plenty of rebels evaded arrest and are now biding their time, waiting for another chance.
Since King Leopold, the great liberator of Melilla, claims that the cities have been made safe, then that becomes the only acceptable truth.
But the pockets of civil unrest are bigger and more frequent every day. Alphas grown frustrated by their lack of riches or access to easy Omega pussy sometimes take to roaming the streets looking to even the score. Betas with little to lose will pickpocket or vandalize if they think they can get away with it.
I can’t afford to become distracted out here. A single guard, decked in royal finery, makes a pretty target for thieves. I’ve swapped my uniform for more casual garb, but the mark of privilege doesn’t wash off. Any denizen of the lower classes who takes one look at me will know immediately that I don’t belong.
Fighting off any but the best-trained attackers might not be a problem for me, but I’d still have to explain what the fuck I was doing out here when the Guardians arrived to clean up the bodies.
Better to finish this quickly, if I can just be left alone long enough to do it.
My phone buzzes again in a different tone. Even though I don’t answer, his voice still plays over the speaker because this device won’t silence calls from the high and mighty Prince Logan .
“Cillian, we need to review the security protocols for tonight’s gala. Call me back. Now.”
I delete the message with more force than necessary. As if I haven’t already triple-checked every entrance, exit, and potential vulnerability in the grand ballroom. These Omegas have everyone acting like lovesick puppies, scrambling to accommodate their every whim.
Convincing Logan to leave Maya in the harem had been a stroke of genius on my part, especially given that Logan almost certainly believes it was all his own idea.
Out of sight and out of mind. At least, that had been the idea.
But I see now that distance isn’t nearly enough.
The memory of Logan’s face during breakfast surfaces — the way his eyes kept drifting to Maya, tracking her movements. How his body would tense and relax based on her proximity. He does his best to hide it, but I’ve spent most of my life navigating the nuances of his mood and body language.
At first, I’d assumed she was just a passing fancy. No different from the countless women that the prince has paraded around us.
But Maya Tantamount has never fit the mold of Logan’s usual conquests. During that first meeting a year ago, when she walked away from him…no other Omega would ever have dared. How she carries herself, the demeanor that is both calculated yet genuine. The sharp intelligence behind those careful responses.
Unique and dangerous.
Even Ares and Poe have been affected. Those two have never cared about any woman beyond a night or two, but both are falling under her spell. Picking out gala dresses and force-feeding the girl like a prize heifer. It’s disgusting.
I’ve watched countless women come and go from Logan’s bed. A few nights are commonplace, the occasional week or two happens, but never for any longer than that. It always ends the same way. None of them mattered. None of them threatened the careful balance we’ve maintained.
But Maya...
Maya might ruin everything.
Her intentions don’t even matter. Considering the why and how of her reappearance is a waste of my time. The only consideration now is how best to manage her presence and ensure it is as temporary as possible.
Signing a mating contract, parading her before the court, even engaging in the disgusting sexual acts that Ares and Poe seem to prefer. All of that is well and good. But the moment the king insists Logan give her a mating bite, bond her to him permanently, all of this will fall apart.
I can be honest about it now, I underestimated her. I underestimated the effect she would have on the prince, on all of them.
I can’t make that mistake again.
My comm unit gives another distinctive alert. Logan again, this time demanding an immediate response with my current whereabouts and purpose for leaving the palace. Idiot. If he hasn’t already guessed what I’m doing, he should know better than to demand I disclose it on an open channel. I spend too much of my time cleaning up his messes for this level of micromanagement.
And I don’t need any distractions right now.
The black market is an amorphous thing in Melilla, but especially Capital City. King Leopold occasionally makes a show of clearing out the more notorious purveyors of illegal goods. The supply will run dry for a cycle or two before the next generation of crooked characters takes advantage of a fresh market opportunity.
But the man I’m looking for always stays one step ahead of the purges. He might go quiet for a bit, but always oozes back on the scene like the slime covering the walls of the decrepit causeways he frequents.
I find Bastin in the alleyway entrance of an Alpha bar. The beta, with his sleazy smile and ill-fitting clothes, immediately stands out. More likely than not, he’s here slinging illegal rut-enhancing drugs for the open-rank fight night advertised on the bar’s marquee sign.
Crooked teeth flash in the dark when he sees me approach. “Cillian, long time no see. Or is it? Thought I topped you up just last week.”
“Say my name out loud again and I’ll feed you your own tongue.”
The whites of his eyes are bright as he shifts on his feet. “Sorry, sorry. What can I do you for?”
I gesture for him to follow me further into the darkness of the alley. Turning on my heel, I don’t bother to wait and see if he complies. I know he will.
I don’t trust Bastin. He would sell his own mother for the right amount of credits. But that’s exactly why I use him and not one of the dozen other dealers. I can trust Bastin to always put his payday first. My access to the royal coffers ensures his continued discretion.
“I need Omega suppressants.” I flash the credit chit in my hand. More than what I’d spent with him in the last six months combined. “Give me everything you have.”
“I’m all out.”
Dread is a sick feeling in my gut. The suppressants I gave Maya already won’t last more than another few days.
“What?” I hiss.
He has the grace to look abashed. “Biggest lab got shut down. Most of the suppliers have been out for months. I was one of the last with anything left. Why do you think I’m out here slinging rut enhancers to cage fighters?”
“So you’re no longer of any use to me, then?”
Bastin is the lowest of the low, a bottom feeder who gets off on making desperate Omegas trade sexual favors for their suppressants. If he can’t help me, then there isn’t anything stopping me from giving into the urge to paint the wall behind him red with his blood. I take a threatening step forward. It’s been way too long since I worked my frustration out on a worthy target.
He stumbles back, hands thrown up in supplication. “No need for anything drastic. I’ve got a lead on a new game in town. You know I’m always the first to know about a good connection.”
“How long?” I ask dangerously.
“A few weeks, at the most. I swear on my own father’s wrinkled knot.”
“At least I know what to shove up your ass if you don’t come through.” I point a single finger at his face, just far enough to avoid actual contact with his sweaty forehead. “Whatever you get, it has my name on it. The entire supply. I’ll pay whatever it’s worth. Fail to come through and a missed payday will be the least of your worries. ”
“You got it, chief. Whatever you say.” Bastin nods frantically as he backs away, brushing imaginary dust off his wrinkled clothes. He lets out a nervous laugh. “How much Omega pussy is the prince drowning in that he doesn’t even bother to breed them? Damn, you got to tell me what it’s like up there. I bet he lets a loyal man have his leftovers, at least.”
Concealing my identity would have been a waste of time. My position as Logan’s personal guard is too public to bother with subterfuge.
My fingers twitch with the urge to wrap around his throat. “The prince’s affairs are none of your concern.”
“I’ve heard there’s a whole harem worth of them up there now. You just let me know if any aren’t up to royal standards. Doesn’t matter how used up they are, neither. I’d have buyers lined up for whatever is left when you’re done, just as long as the hearts are beating and the cunts’re still warm.”
I grab his neck as I slam him against the bricks. “You talk too much.”
His eyes bulge as his lips turn purple.
“Have you been running your mouth to anyone?” My hand tightens imperceptibly. “Anyone at all?”
“N-n-no!” he sputters.
“Think real hard. You ever told anyone I buy off you? The Enclave been sniffing around, maybe?”
“Nuh-uh.”
“Guardians? King’s men?”
His head shakes emphatically.
I shove him back against the wall hard enough for him to bounce right back off and hit the ground on his knees. I drop a handful of credits in the dirt. “Down payment in good faith. Don’t disappoint me.”
I turn away before those beady eyes still squeezed up in agony notice the obvious. It isn’t just anger that has me lashing out, ready to kill the next person who gives me the slightest reason.
No, this isn’t anger.
It’s desperation.