Someone banged on the flimsy bathroom door. "You done yet?" Cody's guard asked impatiently.

"Just a minute," Cody gasped out before dry heaving into the basin again, trying not to think about the stains on the bowl... on the floor... on the walls. Really, on everything. He was doing his best not to touch anything, but his body was more in control than his mind.

"Thirty seconds before I come in," the guard said. Cody had pressed the little button lock on the door, but that wouldn't hold him back. It was only a question of whether the wood of the door would give out first or the hinges.

Cody managed to catch a few breaths, then flushed the toilet. His stomach heaved again at the thought of what could have created the layers of grime, and he stumbled to the sink, surprised but grateful the soap dispenser wasn't empty. He filled his hand with the cheap liquid. It would take a full-body shower for him to scrape the grime of this place from his memory, but who knew when he'd get access to one of those?

The guard rattled the door again and Cody unlocked it before the guard pulled it off its hinges. He looked at Cody and the room suspiciously, as if expecting him to have tried to make an escape. The little room didn't even have a window, though.

"Don't eat the chimichangas," Cody said without amusement. These men didn't care for amusement from their merchandise.

The guard—Cody didn't bother to learn their names anymore—grabbed him roughly by the shoulder and jerked him down the hall, which was only slightly less grimy than the restroom behind them. Another day, another filth-infested "hotel." In the beginning, Cody had grasped at the moments between warehouses and hotels. Moments where he could see the open sky, see trees, remember that a different life was possible.

These days... remembering what life was supposed to be was just painful. Cody kept his eyes downcast as the guard shoved him into the van with a couple other omegas.

“Where to next?” Cody’s guard grunted, climbing into the van.

The driver silently flipped him a business card. After a brief look, it was placed on the dash, then fluttered to the floor when the van jumped into gear, unnoticed.

The other omegas were both pretty new. Taken the last couple of months. Hooked on who-knew-what kind of drugs to keep them compliant.

That was one thing Cody had been able to avoid. Not that they hadn't shot him up a few times, but he hadn't gotten hooked on anything. They had clients—to use the polite word, sexual abusers to be real about it—who preferred someone who was actually with it. Not that it made them any better than the assholes who didn't give a shit.

It did mean that, occasionally, Cody was taken to a high-class hotel. Not often. But scumbags came from all walks of life. Some were shifters, like he was. Generally, alphas with a sadistic streak. But most were humans. Those men got off on degrading omegas, dominating a shifter—even if that shifter was forced into human form. Cody wasn't sure who he hated more.

Cody pretended to sleep as the van left the parking lot, tracing a series of numbers on his thigh. 1-800-373-3366. 1-800-FREEDOM.

After six years of sexual slavery, Cody had thought he would never trust anyone again. But somehow, Trey, a bright omega who hadn't yet lost hope, had wormed his way into Cody's heart. He kept talking about their way out. About a group that would rescue them, if they could just get to a phone. Trey had almost made Cody believe.

And then Trey died. They killed him. An overdose of heroin. His body disposed who-knew-where. And Cody had lost hope again.

But now...

It hadn't been chimichangas that made him feel like hurling constantly. It was rare for a male omega to get pregnant without a bond, but not impossible. But rare enough that they didn't bother making anyone use birth protection. And Cody had seen it happen to others. He knew the signs.

Which meant he knew he had to keep this under wraps. But a shifter pregnancy was only three months! And, if they found out...

They wouldn't let him keep the baby, even if they let him keep the pregnancy. If they let him carry to term, they'd steal the baby. Sell it, if Cody was lucky, to some poor schmucks who couldn't have a kid and didn't realize what was going on. If Cody wasn't lucky...

He pressed his hand to his mouth, holding back his revulsion. Best to not think of that.

The suspicion had been growing for a couple of weeks, but it hadn't been until this morning that Cody knew for sure that he was pregnant. He was surprised at the urge to protect this life in him—this life that had been created in violence but was completely innocent.

Cody had lost all hope, until now. He still didn't hold much hope for himself, but he held a lot of desperation for this child. To save his child, Cody had to escape.

He managed to doze fitfully for a few hours until the van pulled into a McDonald's parking lot. "Bathroom break," the main guard said, pulling his jacket tightly around him to hide his holstered guns. The first thing Cody saw when he opened his eyes was the back side of the fallen business card, glinting in the sun. He made a show of stumbling out of his seat, grabbing it as he stood. He wasn’t sure what he could do with it, but his instincts told him it was important.

As they walked through the restaurant, one of the guards standing outside, keeping an eye on them, while the other led the way to the bathroom, Cody saw his chance.

A man set his phone on the table, then stood, shaking his full cup of ice, making his way to the drink machine. He left his phone on the edge of the table. It was an old flip-style phone—the kind without a passcode locking it. Cody glanced quickly at the guard outside, but he was lighting a cigarette. Without stopping to think, Cody grabbed the phone, hiding it in his palm.

The bathroom only had two stalls, so Cody let the other two omegas use them first while the guard waited outside after checking the room.

Cody's hands shook as he sat on the toilet. He entered in the phone number slowly, waiting for the others to leave the bathroom. Did he dare call? If they caught him...

He had to call.

He pressed send, holding the phone up to his ear, barely breathing.

"Team A.L.P.H.A. emergency line. Are you in danger?"

What could Cody say? Yes, I'm in a McDonald's. I don't know where. Come rescue me!

"If you can't safely speak, just press a button on the phone, please."

Cody's fingers fumbled with the phone. He had to say something. He had to…

The business card was crushed in his hand. He uncrumpled it, reading off the name. "Sperry's Economy Suites," he whispered. "I'm Cody Evans."

He heard the door to the restroom open again and dropped the card and the phone into the toilet with a mental apology to the man he'd stolen it from. Then he stood, the automatic flush kicking on, momentarily terrifying him. What if it flooded?

Then he had to get out of there fast, before the guard noticed. He exited the stall under the watchful eyes of the guard and washed his hands, then allowed himself to be herded out to the car. The guards tossed a bag of dollar hamburgers into the back with them, and Cody passed them back to the others. He couldn't bear the thought of grease right now.

His hands and legs were still shaking from adrenaline. Would something come of his call? Would someone finally come save him?