The Night Movers S2 - Ch. 4 - Ridley's POV (Patreon)

Unbeta'd/Unedited

We're backkkkkkkk.

It was loud.

That was Ridley’s first thought. Loud. Not just sound, but impact–noise that hit his chest and rattled his teeth. All the revving engines, thunder cracking, alphas making jokes and slapping each other on the back. The smell of it was overwhelming, thick and metallic, motor oil and exhaust competing with alpha pheromones as the sky opened up, dumping enough rain to creep into the bay where the alphas stood. 

That’s what Titus called them. Bays. It was mostly just a continuous concrete slab with a roof overhead and support beams that separated six open spaces. It offered very little in the way of protection. Just the illusion of shelter.

That’s why Sugar had pulled the van parallel to the bay on the end–their bay–parking just enough under the roof to allow Ridley and Rain to huddle together inside, under their alphas careful watch, observing the scene but not really a part of it. Ridley shivered, huddling closer to Rain under Sugar’s sable coat. It was freezing. He was freezing. Even with the steady heat of Rain’s body pressed to his, even with the faint hum of the engine still lingering in the metal beneath them.

Ridley had never been to a race track before. He knew they existed, but it was an alpha sport, which made it dangerous. Omegas with any brains knew better than to dangle themselves in front of alphas in places like this. Or anywhere really. Ren had called racing a sport for troublemakers and thugs. Now that he was here, she wasn’t wrong. She’d probably never have anticipated that Ridley would one day call those thugs his own.

That thought landed strangely, comforting and terrifying all at once.

But she likely never anticipated any of the events that had occurred over the last several weeks. How could anyone have known this was how their lives would go. A knife-sharp ache in his heart had him sucking in a sharp breath. Rain whimpered beside him, a soft, broken sound, which instantly drew the attention of the six alphas just outside the van’s open doors.

Titus looked first. He always did. His head snapped toward the sound, eyes scanning, body already angling toward the van like he’d move without thinking if something was wrong. Diesel followed a half-second later, gaze sharp, jaw tight. Steele and Ryker paused mid-laugh, Sugar’s hand stilled on the car’s metal frame, Jensen’s fingers hovering over the keys of his keyboard.

Rain dropped his gaze when he realized he’d made a fuss, shoulders curling inward, and the tension burst like a popped balloon, everyone returning to their previous tasks, whatever they may be. But the awareness lingered. Ridley felt it like a hand still resting between his shoulder blades.

To their credit, his alphas had tried their best to shield him and Rain from both the weather and the other alphas. The two sat in the back of the large van, blankets piled into a nest of sorts. Outside the van, one large heater attempted the impossible task of warming the whole open bay. But it was impossible. It had been frigid before the rain started; now it was like the wind had teeth, sinking directly into Ridley’s bones, finding every weakness, every place he wasn’t protected.

They couldn’t see the track well from their vantage point, the vehicle taking up just enough space to keep Rain and Ridley close without wasting space needed for Titus and Steele’s cars. Ridley caught glimpses instead–headlights flaring like predator eyes in the dark, tires screaming, engines roaring in violent bursts.

Other packs moved freely around their own bays, undeterred by the rain. Their body heat kept them plenty warm even in the worst conditions. Alphas stripped down to thin shirts, skin steaming faintly in the cold, laughter loud and sharp. Rain felt bad for the other omegas. One pack had brought three–which Rain said was conservative for most packs. Conservative or not, they had them kneeling on hard concrete, collars around their necks, dressed so scantily their lips were blue. Their alphas didn’t even notice–or, more likely, didn’t care.

Ridley’s stomach twisted. The sight dug under his ribs, a reminder of what this world still was, of what it could turn him back into if he wasn’t careful.

He shifted without thinking, pressing closer to Rain, his fingers curling into Sugar’s coat like an anchor. Somewhere outside, Titus laughed again, deep and familiar, and Ridley hated how his body reacted to it–the way his omega instincts leaned toward that sound, toward strength, toward danger, towards…safety.

He swallowed hard, eyes flicking back to the track, to the rain, to the alphas that were his now and wondered–briefly, stupidly–what exactly they were bringing him into.

While some of the packs were the same, many of the alphas in attendance were different from the ones at the arena. Rain had said they didn’t waste manpower, sending the crews that had the skillset necessary for the task at hand. Tonight’s crews were all there for the races, though many of their pack alphas were also in attendance. The air felt different because of it, less frenzied than the arena, but sharper somehow, like everyone here knew exactly why they’d come.

The only people Ridley recognized were Orochi and his pack. No Kenta tonight. Which meant nobody to rein Orochi in. They were two bays down, but without walls, the alpha was free to stand, arms folded, and stare at Rain as he snuggled up under Ridley’s arm. His gaze was heavy, proprietary, the kind that lingered like a hand you couldn’t shake off.

“He’s staring again,” Ridley murmured, aware of the alpha’s annoying super-hearing.

“He just wants me to be afraid,” Rain whispered. “And it’s working.” 

Rain’s fingers curled tighter into Ridley’s jacket, knuckles pale.

“Don’t be scared. I’m not letting anyone have you,” Ridley assured him softly, staring down the alpha to make sure he heard him. The words were meant to offer more than reassurance. He needed Orochi to understand that the line between him and Rain was permanent, a line drawn in concrete. 

Ridley was that line. 

Orochi scoffed even as his gaze prowled Ridley’s body with unbridled disgust. Like Ridley was a contaminant. Like he’d ruined something valuable just by existing. Ridley didn’t care what Orochi thought of him. He already had more alphas than he could reasonably handle, even with Rain doing the heavy lifting where Jensen and Ryker were concerned. And none of them looked at him the way Orochi did–like prey or theft.

Orochi obviously blamed Ridley for keeping Rain from him. He thought he was entitled to him, that he owned him, like he was a piece of property to be passed on in the event of his brother’s death. And, sadly, he wasn’t wrong. The law would’ve agreed with him. The system would have handed Rain over without blinking. But his brother had been the one to gamble Rain’s life on a stupid bet to that fucking lunatic. If Orochi was pissed at anyone, it should be him.

“Do you know any of the other packs?” Ridley murmured. 

He needed the distraction, needed to look outward instead of letting Orochi’s stare crawl under his skin.

“Sure,” Rain said. “These guys aren’t as bad as the arena packs. They still trade omegas like they’re pink slips but they’re not psychopaths. They aren’t buying and selling us. Most of those omegas you see are their pack omegas. They’re marked. See?”

Ridley squinted, trying to notice the bite beneath the solid steel collars. Once he knew what to look for, he couldn’t unsee it, the faint scars, the subtle curve of healed skin. Ownership disguised as belonging. A bite that bound them to the pack with no guarantee that the pack would protect them or care for them in any way. 

“That’s how they treat their pack omegas?”

“You know how packs treat omegas. How everyone treats omegas.” Rain hesitated, then added quietly, “You—we—are the exception, not the rule.” 

There was no bitterness in his voice. 

Just fact.

Ridley stared down the bay to the crew in the distance. Engines snarled. Rain streaked the concrete. Alphas laughed like nothing in the world could touch them. “Tell me about them. All of them. Whatever you know.”

“The ones at the very end? The Black Flags.”

“Like pirates?” Ridley whispered, making Rain giggle. 

The sound was brief, fragile, but it loosened something in Ridley’s chest.

He nodded. “High-end car thieves, illegal body-mod deals, chop shops. The bald guy is their alpha, Brenner Slate. Big. Mean. Smiles at all the wrong things.” Rain swallowed. “They have two pack omegas. Nikki and Noel.”

Ridley narrowed his gaze to try to look closer. Even at a distance, something about them tugged at him, an unease he couldn’t quite place. “Are they twins? They’re so…”

“Beautiful?”

That wasn’t the word Ridley would have used. Ethereal maybe? Their hair was white. Not blond. Pure snow white. Their brows were also white, their skin the color of milk, though their cheeks were pink. Like porcelain dolls someone had left out in the cold. They were shivering so hard Ridley could see them shaking even from six bays away. No coats. No extra layers. Just collars and obedience.

“Unusual,” Ridley supplied. “I was gonna say unusual.”

And as the rain continued to fall and engines screamed into the night, Ridley couldn’t shake the feeling that this place–this track–wasn’t just dangerous because of the races. It was dangerous because of who was watching.

“They’re not twins, but they are siblings. A boy and a girl.” 

Rain’s voice dropped on the last word, like it cost him something to say it.

“The guys next to them are the 7S crew. Street-level drug runners, chemical cooks, they trade amphetamines. Their alpha is the twitchy guy with the auburn hair. Roan Vega. The one with the toothpick in his mouth.” Rain’s nose wrinkled. “He’s kind of crazy, like for real…and twitchy. They say he hears voices that aren’t there. He’s always high. Kento hates him. They’ve fought physically more than once.”

“Over omegas?”

“No.” Rain shook his head. “7S only has one omega. Poor little Kess over there.” His gaze flicked, quick and protective. “The one who looks like he’s wasting away. Roan refuses to claim him and won’t let anyone else claim him either. He gets off on mistreating him.”

Just then, Roan and his crew cackled loudly, their sharp peals of laughter cutting through the frigid night air like hyenas. The sound carried too far, too sharp, echoing off the concrete and metal. Ridley shuddered. These men were vile.

“And these guys aren’t as bad as the crews at the arena?” Ridley wondered aloud, curious what measuring stick Rain had used to come to that conclusion. 

What kind of hell made this the lesser evil?

“You obviously know The Last Sons,” Rain said, dread seeping into his tone.

The beautiful, scary crew from the arena. There were new faces tonight, but that didn’t mean anything. Their crew was enormous. They weren’t the same men, but there was the same presence, heavy and inevitable. These men didn’t watch them with the same focus the others at the arena had. They were focused on the task at hand. Winning. They were all gathered around an orange car, hood up, staring down into the engine like it was whispering all the secrets of the universe. Alphas leaned close, shoulders brushing, voices low and intent.

“The next group is the Hood Cartel,” Rain continued.

“Cartel?” Ridley echoed, looking over the six-foot-six slab of muscle with hands like sledgehammers. 

The word alone tasted wrong.

“That’s what they call themselves. Their alpha is Mikhail Dorn, started out as a construction worker, now he runs all the underground smuggling routes.”

“Which one is he?” he asked.

Rain let his eyes drift to the alpha. Ridley’s gaze followed.

In a world of beautiful, terrifying, and powerful men, Mikhail Dorn was exceptional in his mediocrity. Average height. Average build. A face that slid right off your memory. Ridley turned his attention to the three omegas kneeling on the cold concrete, hands on their thighs, heads bowed. They had to be freezing. The little clothing they wore was see-through enough for Ridley to see skin, to see the elaborate tattoos covering their bodies. Ink spiraled across ribs and collarbones.

“Low-level mafia, but blue-collar. They’re good at heists, not people.”

“They must be freezing,” Ridley said absently, still watching the omegas. The way one of them trembled set his teeth on edge. “Should we invite them to come sit in here? We’d all fit.”

Ridley wished they were home right now. The thought hit him suddenly, sharply. Home. It was weird how quickly he’d grown used to the warmth of his alphas’ beds. While the old hotel hallways were drafty, they had heaters and piles of blankets they could burrow under. And if that didn’t work, the alphas themselves were heaters. It radiated off them in waves. A constant, steady presence that told him–without words–that he was safe.

Ridley removed his arm from around Rain, crawling to the doors on all fours, Sugar’s coat still draped over him. The metal was slick beneath his palms, cold biting through his clothes. When he reached the edge, he knelt, pulling the jacket back around him, waiting to see which alpha noticed him first.

Even wrapped in borrowed warmth, surrounded by his pack, Ridley could feel the eyes on him now, measuring, curious, calculating. And for the first time since arriving at the track, he wondered not who would race…but who was watching him.

Outside the track was so wet it shimmered like a lake in the bright streetlights surrounding it. The heavy rain beat against the metal roof, dampening all the noise around them, turning the world into something hollow and echoing, like they were inside the chest of a giant machine. Smoke rose as the heat of engines met the frost of the air as they revved, each crew taking turns looking out at the rain-slick track like they were waiting for the storm to blink first.

It didn’t.

“This rain isn’t letting up anytime soon,” Sugar finally said with a grimace. “Baby bear, swap the tires?”

Ridley pulled Sugar’s coat to his nose, inhaling his scent with a low, instinctive whine before he could stop himself. The comfort of it hit him hard, warm, steady, familiar. He heard a snort and found Steele glowering at him.

Diesel didn’t seem to notice the animosity, just nodded at Sugar, already on the move. Jensen stood beside the car, laptop balanced on the roof, fingers flying as he typed into a program while Ryker sat in the driver’s seat, revving the engine until the vibration rattled through the concrete and up Ridley’s spine.

“Is–is that safe?” Ridley asked, leaning forward slightly. “Racing in this weather?”

Titus stopped pacing long enough to look at the two omegas. He’d been weird since Ridley’s meltdown–hovering close, eyes sharp, presence heavy–but distant at the same time, like his instinct was to guard Ridley, but his brain told him he shouldn’t want that.

When he’d smelled Ryker and Jensen all over Rain earlier, his bad mood had gone sour. Ridley knew it wasn’t jealousy. If Titus didn’t mind sharing Ridley, he wouldn’t mind sharing Rain–especially since he didn’t seem particularly interested in the other little omega yet–but something about Jensen’s interest in Rain was eating at him. Something territorial. Something old. Ridley just didn’t know why.

“It’ll be fine,” Titus said gruffly.

“It’s exponentially more dangerous,” Sugar countered with an eye roll. “Lowered visibility, track slick like ice. Only the most skilled racers run nights like this.”

Ridley looked at Titus. “Racers like you?”

Titus prowled closer, the space between them evaporating in seconds. He caught Ridley by the lapels of Sugar’s coat, drawing him forward until their bodies brushed. Heat bled through layers of fabric, stark against the cold air.

“Yeah, strawberry,” Titus murmured. “Racers like me.”

Titus’s lips found his. Ridley let himself be kissed. Let himself be claimed in front of the others, the way alphas did when they wanted the world to know what was theirs. The kiss was rougher than the ones at home, short, territorial, deliberate.

It wasn’t a hardship, being owned by this pack. His body responded the way it always did–slick warming his skin, heat coiling low in his belly, his cock hardening despite the cold. When he whined, Titus growled into his mouth, a sound that vibrated through Ridley’s chest, before forcing himself to pull away.

Ridley’s mouth felt swollen, the skin around his lips raw from the scrape of Titus’s stubble. He tasted like salt and metal and alpha.

“Alpha,” Ridley purred, glancing over his shoulder. “Are you in charge here?”

Titus’s nostrils flared at the casual use of the word. Not offended–affected. “You know I am.”

“Do they all have to do what you say?” Ridley asked, words dripping with innocence even as he scanned the other crew with calculating eyes–crews who had gone quiet now, attention snapping toward them with sudden interest.

The shift was immediate.

Predatory.

Expectant.

“If they want to race, they do,” Titus murmured, thumb brushing over Ridley’s lower lip, slow and possessive. “Why? What is it you want, strawberry?”

Ridley let his gaze continue to roam, taking in the kneeling omegas one by one–their bowed heads, shaking shoulders, blue-tinged lips. The injustice of it pressed down on him, sharp and suffocating.

“Them,” Ridley said.

The word landed like a spark in gasoline.

A low, quiet rumble started at one end of the bay and rolled outward as alphas bristled–backs straightening, scents flaring, boots shifting on concrete. The air thickened, heavy with challenge and threat.

“You better control your bitch,” Orochi snarled. “He doesn’t get to claim ownership of every omega like some kind of hoarder. They can’t all be his pets.”

He spit the last word while looking directly at Rain, who whimpered. The sound was small, involuntary—and it cut through Ridley like a blade. Ridley felt the weight of every eye turn fully toward him then, curious and hostile.

“He’s right, strawberry,” Titus said, forcing Ridley to meet his gaze. “There are rules. Laws. You know this.”

“I don’t want you to take them,” Ridley said quietly. “I want them in here. With us. Where it’s warm.” He nodded toward the kneeling omegas. “Look at them. They’re freezing.”

“Other packs’ omegas aren’t our concern,” Titus said sharply, widening his eyes at Ridley in a warning only he and Rain could see. 

This is not the hill to die on.

Fine.

Titus wanted to appease them. But Ridley didn’t have to.

If there was one thing Ridley understood about alphas, it was their egos, how easily they bruised, how desperately they needed to be seen as superior.

He dropped his voice, knowing full well they could hear every word he uttered. “Is it because they can’t afford to treat their omegas as well as you treat me…well, us?” Ridley asked.

He looked back at Rain with a small, reassuring smile before locking eyes with Orochi, who growled low in his throat.

“Strawberry,” Titus warned.

“Or are they just bad at taking care of them?” Ridley continued mildly. “Like…isn’t it a little…” He tilted his head, pretending to consider before settling on, “low-class?”

A ripple went through the bays.

“Even the lowest claimed omega owned by one of Vesper’s clients would be given clothing and warmth on a night like this,” Ridley went on. “But maybe they just don’t know any better?”

“Don’t go too far,” Steele warned, his stare burning a hole in Ridley’s skin. 

Diesel grinned, arms crossing as he lifted a brow and looked over the other crews. “I’m sure it's just an oversight due to being preoccupied with our cars. I’m sure the others wouldn’t mind their omegas sitting with ours on a night like tonight. Right?” His smile sharpened, the underlying threat delivered with an unnerving cheerfulness. Then his smile disappeared like a record scratch, his voice filling with a low menace as he added, “Seems like the least you could do if you want to race on our track.”

“You let this omega call the shots for your pack now?” Orochi spat, ignoring Diesel for Titus.

“Man, what the fuck do you care,” Steele said flatly.

Of all the people Ridley expected to back him, Steele was not one of them.

“You didn’t even bring omegas with you tonight," Steele said, looking around as if to prove there were no hidden omegas.

That turned heads.

“Why didn’t you bring your omegas?” Dorn asked, tilting his head, gaze narrowing as suspicion sparked. 

The kind of suspicion alphas hated being subjected to.

Orochi’s ears flushed pink as he seethed. “None of your business.”

“Kento wouldn’t let you, would he?” Ryker said casually, moving to stand where he could see the other alpha. “It’s ’cause even my cousin knows better than to bring omegas out in this weather half-dressed just to show off.” He smiled without humor. “And no matter how much posturing you do, you’re not the pack alpha.”

“Shut the fuck up, traitor,” Orochi snapped.

“What do you care if they sit in the van?” one of The Last Sons asked, his words dripping with a melodic accent Ridley just couldn’t place. Nigeria maybe? “It’s a ridiculous fight when there’s money to be won. Why would any of you want your omegas sick?” He scoffed. “What good is an omega if they’re too frail to breed?”

Ridley’s stomach twisted at the phrasing, but he swallowed it. This wasn’t about morality, it was about leverage. Why did The Last Sons never have omegas with them? Did they always leave them at home? If so, why?

He shook the thought away as the alpha's question lingered, weighing on the others; a steady pressure they couldn't ignore.

And it worked.

Dorn was the first to crack. He looked at his three omegas still kneeling on the concrete, lips blue, shoulders shaking. “Go,” he said curtly. “Behave.”

One by one, the others followed.

Chains clinked softly as the omegas stood, moving hesitantly toward the van, toward warmth, toward shelter. Toward Ridley.

Rain's fingers tugged at the jacket around Ridley as he whispered, “You did that.”

Ridley didn’t answer. He was too busy feeling the weight settle fully onto his shoulders, not fear this time, but something heavier.

Responsibility. Expectation.

Titus’s hand closed around his wrist, firm but not angry. Not anymore. “You’re playing a dangerous game,” he murmured.

Ridley met his gaze, heart pounding, rain hammering the roof overhead. “I know."

And for the first time, he wasn’t sure whether Titus was warning him…or asking just how far Ridley would take this, how far he would take them.

The three stood, each looking at the others in confusion before hurrying toward the van and climbing inside. Their movements were quick, furtive, like animals expecting to be struck for moving without permission. There was more quiet complaint from the other alphas, low muttering carried by the rain, and then the others followed as well.

Once they were secured inside, Titus turned back toward Ridley. “Anything else, my Queen,” he drawled, voice pitched just loud enough to carry, “or can I get back to actually making us some fucking money.”

Ridley drew him in, deliberately. Slow. Intentional. A performance. He kissed him like he meant to be seen doing it, open-mouthed, filthy, tongue pressing in, fingers curling into Titus’s jacket. When he finally released him, Titus gave him a hard once-over, eyes dark, assessing, before smirking.

He turned back to the others like a cat who’d caught a bird mid-flight.

He sauntered back to Diesel, who gave Ridley a wry smile and a knowing look before mouthing behave at him.

Ridley subtly shook his head no.

Diesel threw his head back and laughed, the sound loud and unrestrained, reverberating through the bay and drawing attention from more than a few crews. A deliberate distraction. A declaration.

Ridley crawled back to his spot beside Rain and began handing out blankets from their nest. When the others hesitated, Rain spoke up quietly. “These are clean. They won’t smell like our–the other–alphas.”

The pause that followed was heavy.

Then, one by one, they dragged the blankets around their shoulders.

Kess was shivering even with the extra layer, his hands trembling visibly, so Ridley reached for the thermos beside them and poured some of the coffee into the lid. He handed it over with a small grimace.

“It doesn’t taste very good,” Ridley said softly, “but it’s hot.”

Kess wrapped both hands around it like it was the most precious thing he’d ever been given. He brought it to his lips, took a long sip and moaned quietly, shoulders sagging in relief.

The others watched with open envy.

After a second sip, Kess offered it to one of the pale-haired siblings–Nikki? She accepted it with a grateful smile, taking a long drag before passing it to her brother. One by one, all six omegas took a sip, like a ritual. Shared warmth.

Ridley replaced the lid and set the thermos between them. “It’s there if you need it.”

“What are your names?” Rain asked Dorn’s omegas. Three girls, all dark-haired, all with the same hazel-blue eyes.

“I’m Anya,” the one on the end said softly, her accent Eastern European, familiar enough to make Ridley think of Rurik. “These are my sisters. Vera and Katia.”

“Sisters…” Ridley whispered.

The word landed like a blow.

That could have been him and Ren.

Now Ren was somewhere else. Somewhere worse. Somewhere Ridley didn’t let himself picture for too long because the thought made his stomach twist violently.

“Mm,” Anya confirmed.

“How long have you three been with him?” Ridley asked, glancing toward the bay doors, making sure none of the alphas were paying attention.

They weren’t.

They were focused on engines and tires and money. It was astonishing how invisible omegas became when they weren’t being actively used.

“Since I was fifteen,” Anya said. “Vera was thirteen. Katia eleven.”

Rain sucked in a sharp breath. “You presented that young?”

The sisters huddled closer beneath the blanket. After a long pause, Katia spoke. “It was forced.”

“Chemically,” Vera added.

Ridley’s gasp escaped him before he could stop it. Cold flooded his chest, his fingers curling reflexively into the blanket beneath him.

“They can do that?” he whispered.

The question sat there, unanswered–heavy, damning–settling onto Ridley’s shoulders, a weight he could never put down again. 

Vera’s lip curled. “Evil can do anything with enough power and money.”

“No offense,” Ridley said carefully, “but your alpha doesn’t look like someone who has that kind of power or money.”

“He won us,” Katia said flatly. “Off the alpha who bought us originally.”

Ridley’s stomach churned. The words stacked on top of each other—won us, bought us—until they stopped sounding like language and started sounding like static. “He wasn’t your first alpha?”

“Most of us aren’t here with our original alphas,” Nikki said.

“But you were so young…” Ridley managed around the lump in his throat.

Noel nodded. “Look at us. Every one of us here is exceptional in some way. We would all fetch a huge price on the open market.” His mouth twisted like he hated himself for knowing that. “My sister and I were sold as a set, just like Anya and her sisters. Collectors like to buy in bulk. That’s why they turn to curators.”

“Curators like Vesper?” Rain whispered.

“We were bought before he became the curator. He inherited the title from someone else. An alpha.” Nikki shook her head. “None of us really know how he did it.”

“Blackmail,” Kess said, his voice raw...maybe from disuse.

Even so, his voice cut through the low murmur of rain and engines like a blade.

Ridley’s breath hitched. “How do you know that?”

Kess shrugged, shoulders thin beneath the blanket. “Vesper can…pluck thoughts from the air.”

The world tilted. 

Ridley felt it like a physical thing, his pulse stuttering, a cold line tracing his spine. “How do you know that?”

Kess heaved a wary sigh. “You’re not the only one with gifts.”

The words were casual. Almost bored.

Ridley’s blood ran cold.

How did Kess know that? How did he know about other people’s gifts–about his specifically? Ridley’s gaze flicked instinctively to Rain. There was no way Rain had said anything. He hadn’t left Ridley’s side since the fight. Since Titus.

Unless someone didn’t need words.

Ridley glanced out the bay doors again, heart pounding, then leaned forward, lowering his voice until it barely existed. “Have any of you ever heard of the Dollmaker?”

Nikki’s eyes went wide. Her mouth flattened into a hard, terrified line.

“Why?” she asked.

Her chest rose and fell heavily, pupils blown wide in the dim light of the van, like a cornered animal deciding whether to run or bite.

“He–he has my sister.”

Nikki and Noel exchanged a look that Ridley would never forget. It was the look of people who already knew how this story ended.

Then Noel said quietly, “Then you should make peace with the idea that your sister is already dead.”

“What?” Ridley gasped.

“Nobody survives the Dollmaker,” Vera said softly. “He’s the boogeyman other alphas use to threaten us. He’s the alpha omega mothers warn their children about. He’s a predator in every sense of the word.”

“He’s a collector,” Katia whispered. Her hands shook beneath the blanket. “The things he does…”

“I have to find her,” Ridley said, the words tearing out of him. “I have to.”

Nikki shook her head. “She won’t be right.”

“I don’t care about right,” Ridley hissed. “I care about saving her.”

Kess scoffed. “There is no saving her. Once he has her, she’s already gone.” He met Ridley’s gaze, eyes sharp, unflinching. “Do you know what it takes to turn a human into a living doll? One that can’t consent but also can’t refuse? Do you know what that does to a person?”

“She’s strong,” Ridley said desperately.

Kess shook his head. “Nobody is that strong. He enjoys breaking people.”

Ridley swallowed hard, throat burning. “Do you know who he is?”

A beat. 

“Have you…seen him?”

The rain battered the roof harder, like the night itself was listening, and waiting for the answer.

“Nobody knows who he is,” Kess finally said. “We just know he’s part of the elites. The alphas so rich they shape everything around them. He has armies that will fight for him. There’s no winning against someone like that.”

Ridley refused to believe that. Refusal was the only thing keeping his chest from collapsing in on itself. It wasn’t hopeless. It couldn’t be. He wasn’t giving up. He couldn’t. Ren wouldn’t give up on him. Ever. He didn’t care if she was broken. He’d piece her back together if he had to. He’d bleed for it. Burn for it. Break for it. Nothing mattered but getting her out of there.

But he wasn’t going to tell them that. It would fall on deaf ears. Like Vera said, he was the boogeyman. And you didn’t fight a boogeyman head-on. He had to change his tactics.

“Have you ever heard of someone called Rook?”

“Rook?” Nikki asked, her mouth rounding at the corners like she was tasting it on her tongue. “No. Why? Who is he?”

“I don’t know. Just a name I heard around.” Ridley chewed on his bottom lip, mulling it all over. Names mattered. Names were leverage. “You won’t mention any of this to your alphas, right?”

Kess sneered. “Do you think they talk to us? Our alphas aren’t like yours.”

“How’d you do it?” Anya asked suddenly. “How’d you make them…defer to you?”

“They don’t,” Ridley said.

“They do,” Nikki insisted, her tone telling him she wouldn’t accept lies and pandering.

“You’ve made a show of proving it too,” Noel added. “And people won’t forget that. They’ll think your alphas are growing soft and they’ll start plotting against them.”

This time it was Ridley who snorted, gazing out at the six men who seemed oblivious to their conversation. Or were pretending to be. One side-eye from Steele told him the truth–they could hear everything.

“They can plot against my pack if they want to,” Ridley said casually. “It’s their funeral.”

A slow smirk spread across Steele’s face and Ridley’s heart did a little dance. Why did making Steele happy feel like a hard-won victory? Like something earned instead of given?

“But in the meantime,” Ridley continued lightly, “how many of you do you think they could win?”

Kess frowned. “I can’t figure out if you’re exceptionally perceptive or fucking delusional.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ridley asked.

Kess shook his head, disgust sharp enough to sour his scent. “Do you not know what your alphas do to the omegas they win? You’re the exception, not the rule. Do you really not care that they’ve done unspeakable things to countless omegas? What will you do when they decide you’ve had your fun with your new pet and make him the star of one of their ‘special’ films? Do you think your pretty face and your ass are all you need to cure the sickness that lives in them?”

They didn’t know. They could never know. Not until they were far away from this place. Titus and the others could get them to safety, to freedom, but they wouldn’t know, wouldn’t trust until they saw with their own eyes. Ridley was being far too careless. Rain’s uneasiness told him as much. 

“I didn’t choose this,” Ridley lied. The lie sat heavy in his mouth, bitter and necessary. “I didn’t ask to be kidnapped. I didn’t ask to be bitten. I went into heat hours after they took me hostage. If I hadn’t, I would’ve been the one starring in that snuff film. I don’t know why they’re keeping me around or why they seem to enjoy deferring to me. Maybe it’s a game to them. But what should I do? What would you do?”

Kess scoffed. “Are we supposed to feel sorry for you?”

“Enough,” Anya said quietly. “Any one of us would do the same, would we not? And would we use that power to offer shelter and warmth to other omegas? Or would we selfishly hoard it out of fear of losing it one day?” She looked at Ridley steadily. “Ridley did not have to rescue Rain from Rurik. He did not have to invite us in here.”

“How did you know about Rain?” Ridley asked, glancing at the boy who had fallen silent, watching them all with wide, wary eyes.

“Everyone knows about The Night Movers’ new queen and how he’s wrapped six alphas around his…finger,” Noel said, almost fondly. “Omegas talk too, you know. We just can’t be obvious about it.”

“My brother’s right,” Nikki added. “You’re the talk of the omega underground.”

Was there an actual omega underground? A communication system? It made sense but how did one gain access to such a thing. When he looked at Rain, he gave him a helpless headshake like this was news to him as well. 

“Other than Vesper, no other omega has ever held this much power,” Vera said. “Who wouldn’t be curious?”

“Having power is one thing,” Kess said. “What you do with it is something else entirely.”

Nikki nodded slowly. “He’s right. So I guess the question we all have for you, Ridley, is–”

She leaned forward just enough that the weight of it settled squarely on his shoulders.

“What are you going to do with it?”