Page 2 of The Brooding Alpha's Mate
As the last pair of jeans was folded and put away, the buzzer on the dryer went off. Even the appliances were cut rate. The dryer took two cycles to get the clothes dry. I’d tried everything to fix it, but it was simply an old machine. And from what I could discern, they couldn’t afford to deal with it.
The gambling was the least of their crimes, from what I’d overheard from the other omegas.
“Are you done?” Chad, another omega came in. The laundry area was one of the few places on the pride lands where there were no cameras and no stealthy lions waiting to pounce on our whispers.
“Yeah. Last load just finished.”
I noticed Chad’s laundry basket was filled with baby clothes and blankets. The scent of soured infant formula filled the air. I’d seen him with baby clothes before.
“That’s a lot of baby clothes,” I said, focusing on taking all the shirts out of the dryer and emptying the lint filter.
“It is.” I turned around to see Chad’s shoulders slump as he stuffed onesies and tiny pairs of pants into the gold-colored washing machine with rusty edges.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
He turned and shrugged one shoulder. The omega, much a slave like me, leaned against the machine as the water filled the tub. “There’s so much we’re asked to ignore. To look the other way. I haven’t seen any babies, but here I am washing clothes day in and day out. I haven’t heard the cries of cubs, but I make at least fifty bottles of formula a day and put them in a refrigerator outside a house I’ve never been in. When I go to the store with some of the lions, we buy diapers, wipes, and sometimes a portable crib or so, but after they are purchased, the only evidence of them being used is the trash we haul out.”
“We’ve known they have babies somewhere,” I replied, taking a seat on a splintered bench. It was one of the few times during the day that I was allowed to sit. It was a little vacation if you asked my feet.
“I wish I could do something to help them. I don’t see them come in or leave. Do they ever leave? Maybe they eat them. Lions can be maneaters.”
Such a grisly thought. I shuddered, nearly dropping a cheap T-shirt. “No. I can’t…there has to be something else. Trafficking?”
Chad’s chin quivered. This place…no more than a shack with no insulation other than the warmth from the dryer vent that some omega had rerouted to come into the room, was a place where we could release the pent-up emotions we were otherwise not allowed to show. “I don’t know which one is worse.”
“Neither.”
The sound of incoming cars up the long gravel driveway made me perk up and fold faster than ever. The players were coming. I still had to get dressed in my waiter’s outfit and put on a smile. The last part was the worst.
The shirt and pants were scratchy, but the fake smile hurt my face. I wasn’t used to smiling anymore.
The groping from the players wasn’t my favorite either.
The worst were the lashes I got when I didn’t do something right. Didn’t jump to their attention fast enough. Walked when I should’ve run with their drink, their food, their demands.
Every day I went to sleep without fresh wounds on my body was a good one.
I double-stacked the laundry baskets and rushed out, knowing I left a crying Chad behind. He would probably weep for the babies until the cycle of laundry was done and folded. I didn’t envy his station, but every omega on these godsforsaken lands had a burden to bear. None of it was ours to carry, but we had to all the same.
“You almost didn’t make it. We don’t want to lose out on the tips.” Dean slapped the table at the moment some of the players began to walk in. There was a separate part of the house for the poker nights. Fancy tables. Swanky furniture. Clean floors shined by my hands.
I’d rushed to my room and changed just in time to greet the players. My stomach turned at the thought of what they would say to me. Whisper in my ear. Things that no omega ever needed or wanted to hear.
They wanted to buy me like they did chips. Trade me. Slap me on the table as a bet.
I might’ve been sold as a slave by my brother, but I’d be damned if that evolved into prostitution.
Over my dead body.
Chapter Two
Alex
Growing up, I had my whole life planned out for me. I was going to go to college and get a sensible degree in accounting. I’d find my mate, settle down, have a bunch of cubs, and live a nice, quiet, peaceful life.
That plan failed when my parents died. Suddenly, I was all alone in this world. Being a few months shy of my 18th birthday, I was old enough to be on my own, but not old enough to be without my parents. Not that there was ever a good age to become an orphan.
Their death hit me hard, but somehow, I managed to finish high school…barely. And college? College was put on the back burner and remained there to this day.
