Tarek Bloom hated working the Narrows, and not because he disliked moving among the most destitute people in the city—he hated it because he couldn’t do anything to better their circumstances. They were the poorest of the poor, the forgotten beta cast-offs, and they also had the highest crime rate of anywhere else in the city. As a constable, his job was to help and solve problems as best he could, within the confines of the law.

Today’s call had him in the five-hundred block, in a little brick house that overlooked the gray river water that cut through the city and acted like a natural barrier between the haves and the have-nots. The oily odor of the river mixed with the familiar, hazy odor of Flax, the latest easy-to-make/easy-to-get-addicted-to drug making its way through the lower class. Probably a Flax lab in one of the four dozen identical homes lining the long street.

He ignored the smell, because he wasn’t here to answer a call about drugs. He pressed the buzzer of house 534.

A pale-skinned man with a wrinkled face and missing front teeth yanked open the heavy metal door. “Oh, thank you for coming, Constable,” he said.

“Mr. Farrington?” Tarek asked, reading the name off his small notepad.

“Yes, sir, please come inside.”

Tarek did, taking in the dirty, unkempt state of the small house, and the faint scent of mildew that permeated every home in the Narrows. “Dispatch said this was a missing persons call.”

“Yes, sir, my son didn’t come home last night, and he’s never done that before.”

They stood in the cramped living room, Tarek with his shoulders back and pen at the ready, Mr. Farrington trembling all over. Tarek was one of the few alpha constables in the province’s Constabulary Union, because he didn’t mind taking a pheromone suppressant. The suppressant was panned by many alphas in the business world, but the law required them to be used in certain professions, such as law authorities and the court system.

“What’s your son’s name?” Tarek asked, careful to keep his voice even and not demanding or blaming.

“Hershel, and he’s seventeen. Beta, of course. He went to a friend’s birthday party a few blocks over, and he was supposed to be home by eleven. Never came home. I fell asleep waiting up, and I made all kinds of calls this morning, but his friends say he left the party at ten-fifty alone. He’s walked before at night, and no one’s ever bothered him. We here in the Narrows, we look out for each other, you know?”

Tarek nodded, understanding the close-knit beta community more than Mr. Farrington could imagine. “Do you have a recent photo of your son?”

“Yes, of course.” He went to fetch the picture.

Hershel looked a bit like his father, but with a wide, impish smile. Tarek questioned the man some more, taking personal information of some of the other boys who’d been at the party so he could pay their homes a visit. Hershel was well-liked, not a troublemaker, and his father couldn’t think of a single enemy who might hurt him.

“The constabulary will do everything we can to find him, I promise,” Tarek said. He didn’t tell the man that Hershel was the second beta teen from the Narrows to go missing in the last week, from a relatively small population of teens. Adoptions were rarely granted to folks from the Narrows, but as long as the petitioner had some form of income, no matter how small, they couldn’t be flat-out denied the chance.

The first missing beta teen hadn’t been found yet, so Tarek wasn’t hopeful about Hershel’s chances.

“Thank you, Constable,” Mr. Farrington said. “Thank you. He’s all I’ve got, y’see.”

“I understand. I’ll be in touch.” He handed the man a business card. “If you think of anything else, or if you learn something new, please call me.”

“I will, thank you.”

Tarek hated leaving the devastated man behind but he had other people to question and a report to file, so Hershel Farrington’s disappearance was officially in the system, his picture out in be-on-the-lookout bulletins.

* * *

“Shit, another one?” Dex Freel asked.

“Yeah, second in a week.” Tarek poked at his sandwich, uninspired to eat it, despite having been the one to call Dex and ask him to lunch. The stink of the Narrows still lingered in his nostrils, and it made even his favorite pastrami on rye seem unappealing.

He’d first met Dex at the Constabulary Academy, and even though Dex had dropped out due to an accidental knee injury that left him with a permanent limp, they’d been best friends for the last eight years and counting. Dex now worked in the constabulary’s records office, and he knew how many unsolved murders and disappearances were still on the books.

And as a beta who’d been on the adoption waiting list with his husband for two years, Dex also understood the devastation of losing a kid you’d wanted for years.

“Any leads?” Dex asked.

“Nothing helpful, no. Good kid, no enemies, decent grades in school. Stays away from Flax.”

“You think it could be one of those militant anti-beta-adoption groups?”

“I don’t know, they haven’t been very vocal lately. Maybe he ran away? I combed the route between his home and the party’s location, and I didn’t see anything suspicious. No dropped wallet, no signs of blood. I’m going back tomorrow to talk to neighbors, see if anyone remembers seeing him last night.”

“I don’t envy you all that walking.” Dex took a bite out of his BLT. “My knee hurts after walking from my car to my second floor apartment. I can’t imagine canvassing the streets all day.”

“Good think you married a nurse.”

“This is true.”

Tarek often envied Dex’s contented marriage, but on the rare occasion he found himself daydreaming of a mate of his own, he reminded himself that he was a dedicated work-a-holic and would be a terrible alpha to any omega who’d have him. So he stayed away from the Omega Classifieds, where alphas would post information about their omega offspring who was entering his first heat.

He’d gone there exactly once, and the entire thing made him feel dirty. Grown men describing their children like show ponies, making them as attractive as possible to future mates. Setting up appointments for them to meet, so the parents could size up the suitor, before allowing the alpha and omega to meet. Despite the biological imperative for alphas and omegas to mate during heats, it was in those pre-heat days when they’d know for sure if they were bondmates. They knew it by the pheromones they produced, which were also picked up on by the alpha parent. If no pheromones presented, the seeking alpha often looked elsewhere. Sometimes the bond was felt outside of pre-heat, but it was rare.

No, if Tarek somehow stumbled over his mate one day, he’d deal with it then. For now, he was content with his work and his friends.

“You coming for poker night this weekend?” Dex asked. “I still owe you an ass whooping for last month.”

“Good luck.” Tarek ate a chip off Dex’s plate. “Just admit you suck at poker.”

“I’ll admit no such thing.”

Dex’s affronted expression gave Tarek the laugh he’d needed after his somber morning. Competitive by nature, Dex was great with trivia and most board games, but he truly sucked at card games. He couldn’t even win a round of War for some reason, and Tarek teased his friend about it endlessly.

“Yes, I’m coming,” Tarek said. “But only if you make the cheesy artichoke dip you made last time.”

“Deal.” Dex sucked at cards but he was an amazing cook. Meanwhile, Tarek could barely manage a frozen dinner without burning it.

Delivery food and restaurants had sustained him since he began living on his own. Why bother cooking for one person?

“So is Jenks still giving you shit about that Omega Rights rally you guys provided security for last week?” Dex asked.

Tarek groaned. “Goddess, yes, and he’s driving me insane. Can’t let it go and move on. All he does is try to get me to agree with him that omegas have all the rights they deserve, and blah, blah. He’s such an arrogant asshole. I’m amazed he lowers himself enough to take the suppressant.”

Jenks was the newest addition to Tarek’s division, and he was so old-fashioned in his views that Tarek wanted to pound him into the ground with his own sexism. Tarek’s family had been extremely progressive and had raised Tarek and his siblings the same way. And they weren’t the only progressive family in the city by far. The problem was, there weren’t enough progressives in the provincial government to make any real changes to how omegas were being treated—like chattel, a trading commodity. Objects.

It was another reason Tarek resisted the idea of meeting an omega. He didn’t want their futures to be defined by pheromones. He wanted it to be defined by love, like his parents’ long mated life. His father and omegin had been amazing people, and their unsolved murder was what had prompted him to apply to the Constabulary Academy. Their memory drove him to help as many other families as possible.

“Pricks like that give all alphas a bad name,” Dex said. “But they’re getting fewer and fewer in the younger generations.”

Tarek gave up on trying to eat. He’d get the sandwich wrapped up to go and try again later. Instead, he sipped at his lemonade. “It’s going to take more than simply changing the minds of sexist alphaholes to elicit real change. We need to get everyone to see omegas as real people, and not just available wombs.”

“Preaching to the freaking choir, man. To the choir.”

* * *

Tarek showered at the division locker room, and then sent his uniform downstairs to be cleaned. It reeked of the Narrows, and it would get smelly again tomorrow, but at least he could start the day with a fresh scent. As he changed into street clothes, Heely stormed in. They’d graduated the same academy class, and while Heely was pretty old-fashioned in his views of omegas, he was still usually an even-tempered beta.

“What’s up, guy?” Tarek asked when Heely let his locker door bang against the one next to it. “I figured hospital duty would be easy.”

“It’s boring as shit most days,” Heely replied as he tugged at his uniform tie. “Standing around the emergency unit in case someone on Flax loses their shit. Yesterday, I stood guard duty on some orphaned omega for most of the damned day.”

“Orphaned omega?”

“Yeah, and not even some cute kid. This guy is twenty and only in the start of his first heat. Talk about a late bloomer. And get this. He barely blinked when he found out his father was dead.”

“Everyone grieves differently.”

“Whatever. You wanna grab a drink at Dolly’s?”

Tarek thought about the sandwich waiting for him in the break room refrigerator. A beer and some greasy bar food sounded a hell of a lot more appealing, even if he and Heely weren’t exactly the best of friends. But Tarek had always gotten along better with betas than with fellow alphas.

“Yeah, why not?” Tarek said. Dolly’s was always a good place to find betas willing to have a quick fuck with a seeking alpha, and it had been a while. A long, goddessdamned while.

* * *

Braun was scared.

And not because he was all alone, unable to contact Kell, and living with strangers. That was scary, yes, but that wasn’t what terrified him about Fynn and the halfway house. What terrified him was what he’d seen last night.

He hadn’t been able to sleep his first night at the house, or on his second or third. Once chores were done, the days stretched endlessly and mindlessly, with only the single television for entertainment. No books at all, and no trips to the library were allowed. Braun was bored.

The open house for visiting alphas had been embarrassing at best, standing for hours on end so alphas could sniff him and ask questions. Every single one walked directly to him first, because of his signs of heat, but they always moved on when they learned his age.

Most of the alphas weren’t much older than Braun himself, but they treated Braun as if he was already used up, even though he was a virgin, as he assumed every other omega in the house to be.

That night, Braun had tossed and turned until Gill started swearing at him, so he’d gotten up and sat by the window. Stared out at the empty streets and empty homes. They were so isolated out here, and instead of making him feel safe, it left him uneasy.

Then he’d heard voices and footsteps in the hallway. Deep voices. He’d scented alphas, two of them, and his gut had twisted hard. A minute or two later, three figures had appeared on the cement path leading to the sidewalk, where he noticed a black van for the first time. Two brawny figures supported a small figure, who was both tied up and blindfolded.

Braun had ducked low, watching the two alphas dump the smaller body into the back of the van, then get in the front seats and drive away. A chill had raked down his spine, leaving him frozen inside. He’d stayed by the window until dawn, and at breakfast, the black-haired omega from dinner was gone.

“Liam is no longer with us,” Fynn said once everyone had eaten. “His new alpha came early this morning to claim him, and he’s moved on to a happier, mated life.”

The fake smile nearly had Braun upchucking what little he’d managed to eat off his plate of overcooked eggs and toast. That wasn’t what had happened at all, and the lie left him terrified. Is that what happened to every omega eventually? Spirited off in the dead of night to goddess knew what fate?

I won’t let that happen to me. I won’t.

After doing his chores, Braun spent the rest of the day studying the house. The back door was never locked, because no one could get over the fence. At night, once the day volunteers left, Fynn locked the front door and only he had the key. Braun had no idea how to pick locks, so the front door was out. He discreetly checked the windows, only to find them all nailed shut.

I’m not in a house, I’m in a prison.

A prison he was determined to break free from. The last thing he wanted to do was spend his first heat in this prison’s basement, because he didn’t trust Fynn. He did not trust the man to keep him safe. What if Fynn invited strange alphas over and allowed them to fuck Braun to get him through his heat? No, Braun did not want strangers touching him, possibly impregnating him. He’s rather risk escaping and being alone in the world.

An unmated omega moving around the city unsupervised was a crime, but at least if he was thrown into a city jail cell, surrounded by betas and suppressed alphas, he’d be free from attempted rapes.

He hoped.

His bruised ribs still ached, and Fynn doled out his medications, which were kept in a locked cabinet, so leaving forwent pain relief, but he couldn’t stay. Not after what he’d seen last night.

He spent the afternoon in the backyard, studying the fence. Pretending to walk in aimless circles, he tested for weak spots and found none. His only choice was to climb the fourteen foot monster and somehow get over the barbed wire at the top. He’d have to sacrifice some of his clothing to protect his skin against the sharp wire. He’d probably cut himself all to hell, but he didn’t care. Braun would be in full heat any day now, and he needed to get the hell out of this horror house.

* * *

Gill frustrated Braun that night by taking forever to fall asleep. Not that Braun planned to leave until around one o’clock, when the house would be sound asleep, but he needed to get started. He could only comfortably put on two pairs of pants, but he layered shirt after shirt, all long sleeved. After that, he created makeshift gloves out of three pairs of socks by ripping finger holes into the toe area. Then he stuffed another folded sock in to help protect the palms of his hands.

He looked utterly ridiculous, and he didn’t care. His few remaining clothes, an extra pair of shoes, and his only personal memento—a photo of himself and Kell when they were teenagers—left the duffel fairly light, and the straps were long enough that it fit like a backpack.

Gill snored away on his bunk.

With ice in his gut and his heart in his throat, Braun stepped into the hall. Muffled snoring from behind closed doors. Fynn’s room was the first one by the stairs, and it was wide open. Braun inched his way down the wood floor, sliding his feet to avoid creaks. Bit by bit, the stairs drew nearer. Passing slowly by Fynn’s open door, with Fynn’s lump visible under the blanket in the dim room, was an exercise in self-control.

Braun wanted to run, but if prey ran, they were chased.

Finally, Braun made it to the stairs. Using the railing for balance, he took his time easing down each step. One small creak sounded like thunder in his ears, and he stopped breathing. Listened. Heard nothing but distant snoring. On the ground floor, he slid his feet slowly down the back hallway to the kitchen. Every single second, he expected to be caught.

At the back door, Braun double-checked that there was no security system, even though he’d checked twice so far today. He was so close to freedom. He turned the knob ever so slowly. The small squeal it let out made Braun want to vomit. No one came running, though. The door creaked open, and he held his breath.

Nothing.

Cool night air flowed in through the narrow space, and Braun breathed deeply. No nearby scents of others, only grass and decay. He opened the door just wide enough to slip through and out, and then he gently shut it again. Stopped to listen. Still no alarms, no screaming voices, no demands to get back inside.

He raced across the yard to the farthest corner, where a small bush hid him for several seconds as he regained his breath. This was the moment. Now or never. He could climb the fence or go back inside. His future was uncertain and terrifying no matter what he did next.

At least if he climbed, his uncertain future was of his own making, and not at the hands of Fynn and whoever in the government paid him to “watch” his charges.

Braun wrapped his fingers through the chain link fence and climbed.

The metal rattled but held. Up he want, untrained limbs shaking by the time he reached the top of the fence and its curling layers of barbed wire. Hoping his multiple layers of clothing protected his skin, Braun eased himself up and over. The wire caught on his clothes, ripping tears. His fingertips were sliced and bled. His ribs ached and protested the acrobatics, making it difficult to breathe, but he didn’t stop.

He couldn’t stop.

The moment his feet hit dirt on the other side of the fence, he ran.

He ran for what felt like hours, dodging in and around abandoned yards and homes, pushing himself until he could barely breathe, his untrained lungs screaming for oxygen. At some point, he’d left the empty neighborhood and entered some living part of the city. Businesses and cars and people on the sidewalks. Braun ducked into an alley and behind a big trash receptacle to catch his breath.

Noises assaulted him on all sides, his hearing more sensitive as his heat drew near. All of his senses were heightened, including smell, and over the rot of the trash containers, he scented others. A lot of betas, a handful of alphas. All of them dangerous to an unmated omega going into heat.

I won’t go back. I can’t go back.

The only way forward was through.

He began removing layers of clothing. His top two shirts were beyond saving, so he shoved them into the trash. He removed one more, leaving two on to combat the chilly evening. He took off the socks that had mostly saved his hands, except for four sliced fingertips. They were sort of useless with holes in them, but he put the socks into his duffel anyway. Removed the extra pair of pants. He’d escaped his ordeal with only minor cuts and screaming bruised ribs, which made it hard to stand, much less walk. But he had to find somewhere to hide for the rest of the night, and this smelly alley was not it.

Braun shouldered his duffel and crept to the mouth of the alley. The street wasn’t super-busy this late at night, but there was a bar across the street, and people lingered outside on the sidewalk. Maybe if he kept his head down and walked fast, no one would notice him. So he did exactly that, marching forward with purpose in his steps, even though he was shaking apart inside. Terrified at being in a strange part of the city alone.

This was stupid. What if someone scents you? You can’t defend yourself.

He walked faster, panic squeezing his chest, demanding he flat-out run, but that would call too much attention. Someone might wonder why he was running. They could call the authorities on the young omega racing through the streets, with no destination in mind. Braun had no friends to call for help; his father had kept him extremely isolated from others his age once Braun was pulled from school. The only kind person he could think of was the nurse named Serge, but Braun didn’t even know his last name. Going to the hospital to find him would only land him back at Fynn’s halfway house.

No. He’d walk until he found someplace safe to hide for the night.

Except the city was waking up the deeper he walked, into more businesses and still-open bars, despite the hour. People on the streets. Mostly betas, from their scents, but he caught the occasional whiff of an alpha. He turned onto a sleepier side street, small businesses mixed with homes and apartments.

Hair on the back of his neck prickled with unease. He slowed a fraction, ears straining. Footsteps were following him, and then he scented not one alpha, but two. Braun squeezed the straps of his duffel, terror blazing through his chest. His brain stuttered, caught between the instinct to flee and fear of the chase that would inevitably follow.

I just have to be faster than them.

Braun ran.

He pumped his legs and tried to moderate his breathing, but a stitch in his side from his ribs made him stumble, and the damned duffel wasn’t helping. He turned into a narrow alley between two brick homes, hoping for a good place to hide, or even better, a weapon of some sort, only to find himself trapped in a dead-end. He rattled the chain-link fence blocking him from coming out the other end of the alley, then started to climb.

Someone yanked him off the fence by his duffel bag, and Braun yelped as he fell. He was pushed into the broad chest of big, burly alpha who held him by his forearms. His breath reeked of liquor, and his eyes were bloodshot. His companion didn’t smell much better.

“What do we have here?” Alpha One asked, giving Braun a shake that rattled his brain. “A lost omega who’s going into heat. Where’s your alpha, little one?”

Braun caught on the first lie he could think of. “At home waiting for me. I’m late. He’ll be angry.”

Alpha Two yanked the duffel bag off Braun’s arms, then pulled Braun back against his chest. Braun’s lungs hitched; he couldn’t get a good breath to scream. Alpha One closed in on him and smashed Braun between them. One thick erection pressed into the small of his back, the other into his belly.

Not like this, not like this. My first time will not be like this.

So Braun did the only thing that came to mind: he smashed his forehead into Alpha One’s nose. Pain blazed through Braun’s head, but it was worth it for the way Alpha One screeched and stepped back. Alpha Two’s grip loosened enough for Braun to slip down and out of his hold. He bolted toward the other end of the alley, duffel forgotten in his haste to escape.

Someone tackled him to the pavement, and Braun did scream then. Loud and piercing, a combination of pain and terror. He wriggled and kicked.

“Baby omega’s got fight in him,” Alpha Two snarled. He punched Braun in the mouth. “That’s for Tetch’s nose.”

Blood burst in Braun’s mouth as his teeth cut the inside of his lip. Alpha Two snared his wrists and held them above his head, while his big body caged Braun in. This was it. He’d lost. These two assholes were going to rape him in this smelly alley, probably make him bleed because he wasn’t in full heat yet. His body wasn’t ready.

Braun’s only consolation was knowing this wouldn’t end in a pregnancy.

Nothing would make up for the coming pain.

“I think the little shit broke my nose,” Tetch said. He loomed over his friend’s shoulder, blood smearing his lips and chin. “Just for that, I get him first. Use my own fucking blood for slick, how’s that sound, you little shit?”

Braun took the best breath he could and screamed for his life. Alpha Two punched him again, and Braun went limp. No one was coming. No one cared about some stupid, unwanted omega with nothing to offer except his womb. Tears stung his eyes, but he refused to cry. Not yet. Not so damned easily.

The scents of their arousal was fucking with his own hormones, though, drawing him closer to his heat than he expected. Goddess, what if he did go into full heat while they were raping him? Their own pheromones would take over, and Braun would be—

“Hey!”

The strange voice echoed down the alley from the street, but Braun didn’t dare to hope. What if it was more alphas? He’d rather die than be passed around like a plaything to be used and hurt.

Footsteps moved toward them. Beta scents. One of them…familiar?

“Doesn’t concern you,” Tetch said. “Mind your masters and go away.”

One of the betas growled. “You being alphas doesn’t make you our masters, it just makes you a raging alphahole.”

“Fuck, Dex, I know that kid.”

That voice. Braun dared twist his head to the side. Serge was stalking toward him, an expression of bald fury on his face, with another well-built man limping next to him and leaning on a cane.

“Help me!” Braun said.

“Get the fuck off him,” Serge said.

“You and the cripple gonna make me?” Alpha Two asked. “We found him. He ain’t got a mixed scent. He’s ours.”

“The fuck he is,” the other beta—Dex?—snapped. “Omegas aren’t property, and this one is a friend of my husband’s, so get the fuck off him before I call a constable.”

“You know him, then what’s his name?”

“Braun,” Serge replied with danger in his voice. “Braun, what’s my name?”

“Serge,” Braun said immediately. “He’s a nurse at the provincial medical center. It’s where we met.” Hope tried to scoot in and chase away some of his fear, but he was still being held down, the prize in some bizarre alpha/beta showdown.

Dex pulled out his phone and typed in some numbers. “How about we let the authorities sort this out?”

Braun bit back a scream of no, because if the constables got involved, he’d be right back in Fynn’s hands, and he’d rather die than go back to that place, only to be sold off in the dead of night.

“Come on, man,” Tetch said. “The little shit’s not worth jail. No omega is.”

Shame rolled over Braun with those words. He didn’t move when Alpha Two released his wrists and got up, not even when the sounds of their stomping footsteps disappeared into the distance, taking the stink of their arousals with them. He stared at the dark night sky and wished hard for it to simply swallow him up.

“Braun?” Serge knelt next to him, his familiar face so kind and concerned that Braun did start to cry then.

He cried for his own fear over tonight’s attack. He cried for the brother he couldn’t contact. He cried for the father he’d lost. And he cried for every omega everywhere who’d ever felt as small and lonely and scared as he was in that moment.

And Serge held him the whole time.