Anarchy, p.7
Anarchy, page 7
I didn’t want to distress her, she’d had enough of that today. So I let my fingertips play with a strand of her soft, damp hair and tried to calculate our chances of living to our appeal.
Phantom was right that revealing the gun today was a risk, but it was worth it. Plus, if I had to show the weapon, the best time was in a power play that humiliated Holden.
I just hadn’t expected it to come in the shape of an actual scent match. And the picture it painted was perfect: all of Anarchy had just seen an omega claim Holden’s gift from under his very nose.
That, though, was the stars aligning.
Claiming Crescent would have happened whether or not I could spin it. Nothing could quite describe the need I’d felt when I’d seen her that first time—the bone-deep knowledge that she was mine.
A piece of me I hadn’t even known was missing.
Even now, I felt it like a white-hot scrap of metal in my chest, pressing against my lungs with every breath.
Perhaps the alphas in my pack needed her scent to know, but I hadn’t.
And it wasn’t just about what it meant for me.
I loved my pack, but even I couldn’t deny that we were just lost souls clinging to survival in a world that would otherwise leave us for dead.
But Crescent… The gravity of the world itself had changed with her.
A mate.
A signal from the universe that we were allowed to want more. To be more. Something… meant to be instead of a game of chance.
Her scent was like a dream.
Soft velvet roses and luxurious cocoa, sweet like a Valentine’s Day treat.
But there was still something wrong.
She was afraid, which made sense—except for what it seemed she was afraid of. Not of this place, but of… of our claim, I thought.
The longer we laid there, the more on edge she got until her anxiety had everyone uneasy. Phantom kept shooting me glances, and soon he was going to ask her what was wrong, if I didn’t get to it first.
He was sweet, but none of these alphas would be my first choice at broaching a delicate topic.
So that left me to shatter the silence—and hopefully not shatter the delicate little omega laying against me.
“What are you worried about?” I asked.
“I’m going to break everything,” she whispered. “You have your alphas, and now I’m here, and he’s already—”
She cut off as I pressed my finger to her lips. “Baby girl,” I said, trying out another nickname, but… it didn’t quite fit. I needed to find the perfect one. “You’re not breaking anything.”
Karma, mad as he was, was an alpha with convictions that bled right down to his instincts. If he didn’t, there was no way we wouldn’t have found him rutting her when we got back. Instead, she’d been forced to endure particularly vicious cuddles.
He could go from vicious to teddy bear in the blink of an eye, and when he did, well, I’d never met a more gentle alpha.
Crescent was lucky, just like I was. Karma, Phantom, and Vandle—they were special. There were no alphas in here like them.
I brushed his cheek for a moment, earning a curious, bright eye opening to peer up at me from where he still held us both in his arms. His pupils were still fully dilated.
“See, he’ll be okay,” I murmured. “You want to help?”
She nodded, but it looked like there was a lump in her throat. “Help him come back?” she asked.
“Yup.” He was feral for the moment, but that wasn’t unusual for him, even if it happened less frequently these days.
She lifted her hand, mirroring my comfort and cupping his cheek, to which a low purr rumbled in his chest. Her eyebrows shot up and she looked unsure. Her hand was shaking, though, and I saw such fear in her golden eyes.
“It’s not a rut, he just… got lost. That’s all.”
No one was in this place for no reason. Phantom was the most grounded. But Karma?
We were trying our best, knowing he needed to be more balanced if we wanted a hope of being let out by the time our appeal came. But by the state of his body and hormones, Phantom thought he’d come from illegal rut fighting rings. The New Oxford trafficking ring that pushed alphas to madness by making them fight in competition with one another.
The pack was balancing him, but it was slow progress. Crescent might have sent him into this state, but I read it as a good sign. He had connected with her quicker than I had, and that meant, if managed right, she just might bring him back.
Sure enough, he was already reacting to her proximity, a low purr rumbling to life as he shifted, arms tugging around her and drawing her against him.
I saw a nervous smile on her face for a moment—a flicker of delight, but then it vanished, and she shot me a guilty look as if she knew I’d seen it.
She carefully lowered her hand to his hair and he reacted in an instant, tilting his head and pressing his teeth to her neck again. She laughed, cheeks bright pink as his purr rose, but I didn’t catch any fear from her scent.
It was obvious she’d come from a place with a lot of rules and was touch starved like I’d never seen, but her instincts were bursting from her. The little nip she’d given me when I’d told her that her name was beautiful was testament to that.
She cupped Karma’s cheek and redirected him back to nuzzling her collarbones.
So, we settled in like that. Phantom stepped out for a short while, and I heard him with the Emerald and Wakefield packs outside. That was good, we needed to start shoring up alliances before anyone could undermine them. The door was cracked open, and I heard the occasional snippets of conversation.
The alphas locked in here with us would never accept a pack claiming two omegas—surviving until our appeal was now all but impossible.
But it was too late.
I’d end every alpha in Anarchy before letting her go.
Still, I was wondering the same thing Phantom had. How the hell had an omega like this ended up down here?
My blood boiled, thinking about it.
The omegas they tossed down here didn’t come from nowhere. Lost souls pulled from the trafficking rings. Those who’d angered people with more power than they should have—I knew Justin from the Emerald pack had been caught with a senator’s daughter.
It was a familiar story.
There was a rot in the Institute, and those in New Oxford with the right connections… It wasn’t just about finding a warm body to feed the dwellers. It was the ultimate punishment from those who only felt powerful when hurting the weak.
We only had ten days to get through.
Then psychologists and arkologists would decide if there was any way we’d be stable enough for society. If we weren’t, they’d force us back down here until our next member’s appeal.
But if we were… we’d be free.
Conditionally, of course. But anything was better than here.
Our only problem—aside from making it to our appeal date alive in the first place—was that no omegas had ever left Anarchy.
Me and Crescent… we didn’t get appeals.
All we got was hell, and no one knew what happened if a pack appealed with an omega in tow. It had never happened before, as far as I knew. Since dweller packs had first dibs on omegas, they rarely got the chance.
Yet another reason I was grateful for whatever force of nature killed the pack that was supposed to bond me.
But even that turn of fortune didn’t guarantee me shit.
There was one pack—the Leo pack, who had an omega, and they would be going for their appeal a few days before ours was called. We were watching their situation closely to plan. But aside that, it was untested territory.
Crescent had been quiet for a long time, her scent calming as she slowly stroked Karma’s hair. It wasn’t happiness, I could still sense an undercurrent of worry, but she was settled.
“Why did you protect me?” Crescent’s whisper broke the silence at last. “You didn’t know I was your match.”
“I don’t know that I didn’t.”
“Scent matches don’t lock in until you scent each other,” she replied, tilting her head up and meeting my eyes.
“As far as we know,” I chuckled.
“I’m going to cause you a lot of problems—”
“You’re ours, Sweetheart,” I said, trying the next nickname and deciding instantly it wasn’t right. “That’s the end of it.”
Karma let out a rumble of agreement, and while his eyes were still dark, I could see a glint of understanding in them. She’d brought him back from the brink, and it was possible he might just be milking his feral state to stay close to her now, the asshole.
“But uh… you can’t…” She swallowed. “You can’t bond me.”
I frowned, wracking my brains to see if she’d heard something about the Redgrave situation.
“Why not?”
Crescent jumped as Phantom’s voice floated from the doorway. She straightened, eyes wide as he closed the door behind him. I wondered what time it was. It had to be late by now, but I wouldn’t relax until I heard the lock click at eleven.
“I’m gold pack,” she said.
I frowned. “We shouldn’t bond a gold pack?”
“That’s dangerous, unless you’re chosen.” She seemed anxious, as if this was basic stuff we should know.
Where the hell had she come from?
“Chosen?” Phantom asked as he sat back down on the bed. “What does that mean?”
“The…” She swallowed. “The Chosen are alpha packs approved by the church—the High Priests decide. Sometimes they claim gold packs. They know scent matches can lead to idolatry, but they still need… you know… balancing. But if they’re devout enough to purify a gold pack, they agree to claim one from the Convent.”
“Purify a gold pack?” I asked, eyebrows rising.
“Withstand our corruption.”
“You think corruption is a real concern down here?” I asked.
She chewed on her lip, regarding me. “It should be even more of a concern down here, it’s dangerous, and…” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Corrupted alphas always go to hell.”
Ah.
“Are you an Ascendant?” Phantom asked.
She glanced at him, then nodded.
“What?” I poked. Phantom, unlike me, had memories of what society was like outside of all of this.
“Don’t know much about them, they keep to themselves. Christian denomination with some added ideas about alphas and omegas and shit.”
“It’s not added,” Crescent put in. “The Ascendant Doctrine is completion. It affirms that society is divinely structured around the natural roles of alphas, betas, and… omegas.” She trailed off a little at the end, clearly feeling the weight of our stares.
“Those ‘Chosen’ packs you mentioned,” Phantom asked. “What kind of bonds do they give gold packs?”
“A dark bond,” she said.
“Of course.” Phantom gave me a look as if that explained the whole situation.
Which… Well, it kind of did. It was always about control.
“Don’t you know how destructive gold packs are?” Crescent asked, folding her arms and glaring between us.
I couldn’t help but snort.
“You don’t have to worry about that.”
Not that there was a way to explain it to her—not really.
I’d been given a number instead of a name—a living experiment.
What happened in that place was a blur.
A year passed in silence after I perfumed, and I’d known they were waiting for the moment my eyes turned gold. There were tests, here and there, but nothing to what I knew was coming. But they never did turn that distinctive colour, even though they should have.
I didn’t remember much—just standing before a mirror, sickness churning my stomach as I saw my own blood-red eyes, so striking compared to the plain brown they’d been before.
An anomaly like me wasn’t good for a branch of the Institute that needed to remain hidden, so I’d been tossed down here like garbage to be discarded.
The omegas down here, they weren’t supposed to escape. It’s why we were handed down when a dweller pack hit status. We’d end up dead, or bound to a pack with no prospect of getting out.
If she thought a gold pack would corrupt us, it was nothing to what an omega like me would do.
Either way, bonds were tomorrow’s issue.
A dark bond was off the table anyway. It was a bond that alphas could give omegas without consent, a bond of absolute control. It meant the omega had to follow every command. And it wasn’t illegal to dark bond gold packs like Crescent.
But our pack couldn’t dark bond her—they were a single omega deal. A pack with a dark bond couldn’t have two omegas in it.
The issue now was that normal bites required consent of both parties.
And I was starting to wonder if I could get her on board at all with all this corruption worry.
That was after I’d figured out the deal with Dominic Redgrave—which I definitely wasn’t going to bring up tonight.
“I do have to worry,” Crescent mumbled after a long pause. “Clearly none of you are going to.”
Damn, she was sweet.
I’d never met anyone so worried about my salvation.
Sighing, I held her close and pet her hair. If we argued, we would only upset her—especially if this was some extreme religion like Phantom mentioned. It was better if we introduced new ideas slowly.
“You can worry for us then. Talk about it more tomorrow, OK?”
On cue, I heard the buzz of the lock turning into place, shutting us safely inside for the night. No one else could get in until morning.
“It’s safe to sleep,” I promised her, and from the way she went lax I knew she believed me wholeheartedly.
I only hoped that trust wouldn’t end in disaster for us all.
10
CRESCENT
Three Days Before - The Convent
Loneliness was the reason I went week after week.
It was early Sunday morning, and the stone was cool on my knees as I waited, knelt at my bedside, head bowed.
My blindfold was secured tightly around my head, and my left hand had a silk glove. I’d left the little golden stitched flowerhead outside of the door this morning, signifying that I wanted to join the service.
It had been so quiet all week, and I wanted to hear voices other than the Sisters’ prayers, or the quiet turning of pages in our lounge.
Most of all, I wanted the scents.
I wouldn’t admit how much I craved them—the scents of others. Alphas, betas, omegas. Often nothing too overpowering, as it was rude to enter worship without a little dampener at least, but they mixed with the sweet smell of wooden pews to make something new.
Others that weren’t just gold pack omegas or members of the Sisterhood.
It was my only chance to be with them.
I heard footsteps passing my door, low words exchanged back and forth as the Sisters got ready for the service.
Each time they neared, I squeezed my eyes shut behind the blindfold, hoping they’d choose my door.
We were corruption waiting to happen. Letting gold packs like us mingle with members of the congregation—that would be chaos. So we were allowed to attend with an escort. Usually it was a Sister, if they wished to be generous, but sometimes respected members of the congregation would volunteer.
That way, we could still hear the Sermon, but responsibly. Some weeks, though, there weren’t enough volunteers, and we couldn’t all go.
Finally, I heard a faint rap on my wooden door, followed by it sweeping open.
I tried to fight my smile. The clipped shoes that entered were different from the softer footsteps of a Sister, and while I always preferred the comfort of a Sister I knew, the disappointment didn’t linger.
“I’m here to escort you.” The words were familiar, though the low voice wasn’t.
“Thank you for donating your time,” I said, as I did every time. I got to my feet in darkness, careful to avoid the long, grey gown we always wore.
As he stepped to my side, I caught the faintest aroma of almond and clove. A pleasant scent. He was an alpha, I could tell from the sharpness of it.
Rare, since they were held in such high regard in the Convent, and probably had better things to do than give charity to corrupted omegas like me.
Rather shakily, my one gloved hand reached out, palm up. I tried not to react as his warm touch met mine, and he looped my hand around his elbow.
This was all usual protocol, but for the proximity I was standing to an alpha. I could barely form my thoughts as he led me blindly from the room and down the Convent hallways.
Alphas were usually warned to stay away from the corrupted—to avoid risking temptation. I’d heard of it happening, usually from whispers accompanied by blushes, but I’d never experienced it. The few male members of the congregation that escorted us regularly were all betas.
To repent, to earn salvation with eyes like ours, the path was quiet and lonely.
Heats were suffered alone, and in full, in our rooms, the pain a payment for the risk we burdened society with.
I didn’t know if I believed in salvation—the teachings never felt close, or real like they did to some of the other omegas. But the corruption they taught of, the danger we posed… that scared me.
I was frightened of being the cause of someone else’s downfall.
This curse was a poison that I could never exorcise, but it was mine, and I didn’t want to make it anyone else’s.
While the omegas of the Convent weren’t strictly locked in, I, like the others, had been saved by them early on, and didn’t know much else in adulthood. I was thirteen when I’d been found in my mother’s home with golden eyes I didn’t know were a sin. It was simple: if an omega got the Institute’s injection within a year of perfuming, their eyes wouldn’t turn gold.
This, I’d learned too late, was about more than just keeping society safe from the rogue alphas those omegas birthed, who could be violent and dangerous. It also gave omegas, who were the imbalance and chaos to the strength of alphas, a path to purity.
