Page 11 of Omega Untamed
“N—no.”
“See?” He turned to Stone. “I can’t say I would have trusted you to do the same.”
Stone scowled, and let out a breath that puffed his cheeks. His eyes glittered yet at the same time seemed devoid of light.
“My name is Myre. If you haven’t heard of me, then I’ve done my job. Invisibility is my talent. But now it’s time for you to know I run the streets here, and the more profitable portions of this ungodly city. Why do you think I’m telling you this now?”
I gulped twice. “I—I don’t know.”
“Because after tonight, I know you can be trusted with that information.”
Was he trying to scare me? Blackmail me? Hire me to scrape the gutter dirt off the bottoms of his shoes?
“But first,” Myre continued. “Before we deal with that. I need you to give me some rules. It’s very simple. I ask you a question. You answer honestly. I am excellent at detecting a lie. If you lie, I order Merch here to start breaking bones. First the little ones like a finger or a toe. Did you know the penis has a bone that can be very painful when it breaks?”
I nodded once, holding my breath. I certainly didn’t want him to break my junk.
“We have an understanding?”
My heart slammed my chest. Questions about what? What did I know that this Alpha would be interested in? I tried not to squirm. The room fogged up a bit as cold tears prickled my vision. I could only nod.
“All right, then. Now you know the rules and we can begin.”
Myre’s first questions were about my dealers. He wanted their names. First and last. I nearly panicked when I told him I did not know their last names. Would he believe me?
But so far, all my toes and fingers—and my cock—remained intact.
Next, he wanted to know about some of my clients. Namely, the cops who hired me to see them through their Burns.
As I gave their names, a sense of betrayal scraped along the bottom of my stomach. I didn’t name drop client to client. Sometimes we Omegas talked amongst ourselves, but in whispers. In alcoves where voices never carried. Who was dangerous on the path this week? What were the trends for Omegas being hurt or never being seen or heard from again?
The good cops actually looked out for us. I hated outing them. But I couldn’t ignore the surly guy standing next to me holding a set of pliers that promised agony in places I didn’t want to think about.
Myre gave me two names. First and last. He said them slowly. Carefully, leaning down to look closer into my eyes.
“Do you know them?” he asked.
I shook my head.
“Think very carefully.”
“Honestly, I don’t. Who are they? Alphas? Omegas?”
“Boss,” interrupted Stone.
Myre spun and snapped out. “What is it?”
“They go by street names.”
Myre straightened. “And they are?”
“Dill. And Guff.”
“I do know them,” I blurted.
Myre turned back to me. “How?”
“They—they’re Alphas. They are always together. They go to a lot of parties. You know the kind where Alphas pay and share the Omegas around. It’s—it can be rough—go all night. But they pay well.”
