Secured by the Buyer (Taken by His Alpha #3)

Chapter 19

19

C old wind bites through my clothes as I find myself back on a street I hoped never to see again.

My arm throbs from where Dr. Wallace had re-injected the tracker, and an echoing throb comes from my hip where the Rockfords had added a second one. They’re not taking any chances they’ll lose me, but it offers little comfort as I duck into the shadows between two parked cars and hold my breath as a group of drunkards stumbles past.

Everything had moved fast once we came up with the plan to use me as bait. I hadn’t had time to talk to Liam in private. He was there when they dropped me off, though, bruising my lips with a harsh kiss and a promise to come for me, no matter what .

I tug at the frayed sleeves of the secondhand sweatshirt, trying to ward off the evening chill as I dart from shadow to shadow. The familiar streets of my old neighborhood stretch before me, but they feel foreign now, hostile. I don’t belong here anymore.

The too-big tennis shoes flop against the pavement with each hurried step, threatening to send me sprawling. Should’ve grabbed a better-fitting pair, but beggars can’t be choosers when you’re on the run.

Well, pretending to be.

The grime I smeared on my face itches like hell, but it sells the story that I trekked here from the airport after slipping my leash. Hopefully, the dirt masks my fear, too.

I’m a jumble of nerves and adrenaline as I beeline for the rundown house at the end of the block I used to share with my waste-of-space father. We had decided the logical place for a runaway slave to go is where they felt most secure. Home. The thought makes me gag. This dump was never home , but here I am returning to it, praying this desperate gamble pays off.

While I’m willing to stay a secret in Rockford Manor for the rest of my life, if I can help take down this trafficking ring sooner, then it’s worth every risk.

The cracked sidewalk blurs underfoot, and my pulse thuds in my ears, almost drowning out the distant blare of sirens. I suck in a shaky breath, the stench of rotting garbage filling my nose from overflowing trash bins the city doesn’t always remember to pick up.

My gaze darts left and right, searching for any sign that I’m being watched or followed, but aside from the drunks, the street is deserted. I can’t spot Caleb or Jade, who promised to follow closely, which is good because it means the retrieval team coming for me won’t see them, either.

The sagging porch and peeling paint of my father’s house come into view, the yellow eviction notice bright even without the porch light to illuminate it. The bank moved as fast as I predicted.

I slip up the steps, hopping over the broken tread, and scurry to the front door. When I try the knob, I find it locked, but the spare key is still where I remember, coated in a layer of grime at the top of the door frame.

My skin crawls as I fumble to shove it into the lock. I’ve grown accustomed to being pampered, which makes the filth of this place stand out in stark contrast. The door swings open with a creak, and I pause on the threshold, heart hammering against my ribs .

I take a tentative step inside, the floorboards groaning beneath my weight. The sour stench of cheap booze and stale cigarettes hangs heavy in the air, a suffocating reminder of the life I left. Gritting my teeth, I ease the door shut behind me, wincing as the latch clicks.

When we had discussed where best to ‘run away’ to, we had decided on this location, because scared people always run home. But every fiber of my being hates returning here, temporary as it may be.

My eyes strain to adjust to the light cast by the silent television in the living room, making out the familiar shapes of mismatched furniture and piles of trash. Same old, same old. Guess dear old dad hasn’t changed a bit.

The floorboard creaks beneath my foot, and I wait for his angry voice to yell, but silence fills the house, broken only by the scurrying of rats in the walls.

Empty beer cans crunch under my feet as I make my way to the sagging couch where Dad sprawls across the cushions, one arm dangling, fingers brushing the grungy carpet. The sour stench of stale booze and unwashed flesh hits me like a physical blow, and I gag, covering my nose with my sleeve.

It’s like stepping into a time capsule, everything as I remember. The peeling wallpaper, the water-stained ceiling, the ever-present haze of cigarette smoke. And at the center of it all, the man who made my life a living hell.

Anger surges through me, hot and bitter. This pathetic excuse for a father, who cared more about his next drink than his own son. Who sold me into slavery to pay off his debts, like I was nothing more than a piece of property.

Dad snorts and stirs, bloodshot eyes cracking open. He squints up at me, confusion clouding his features.

“Kat?” he slurs, struggling to sit up. “That you, baby? Knew you’d come crawlin’ back to me.”

My stomach twists with revulsion as he rubs his crotch, mistaking me for my mother, and a lewd grin splits his face. “C’mere and beg like a good bitch.”

“Shut your filthy trap,” I snarl, kicking his leg. “It’s Milo, you drunken bastard.”

He blinks, taken aback. “Milo? Thought I got rid of you. Where’s my money, boy?”

“There is no money.” My hands clench into fists at my sides, nails biting into my palms. “You sold me, remember? To pay off your gambling debts.”

“Ah, quit your whining.” He waves a dismissive hand. “Knew you’d find a way out of it. Always were a smart little shit. Now go get me a beer, would ya? And something to eat. I’m starving.”

Incredulous, I take an angry step forward. “Is that all you have to say to me? After everything you’ve done?”

“What else is there?” He belches, scratching his belly. “You’re here, ain’t ya? No harm, no foul.”

“No harm?” A harsh laugh escapes me, edged with hysteria. “You sold me into slavery, you worthless piece of shit!”

“You got out, didn’t ya?” He shrugs, unconcerned. “Stop being such a pussy and make yourself useful for once.”

Red tinges the edges of my vision, fury boiling up inside me.

“You’re disgusting,” I spit, each word dripping with venom. “A pathetic, miserable excuse for a human who will die alone, choking on your own vomit, just like you deserve.”

Rage contorts his face, and he lunges off the couch, a meaty fist raised to strike. I’m faster, though, and no longer afraid he’ll kick me out. Hand against his chest, I shove him back down among the scattered beer cans.

“You’re nothing to me,” I hiss, towering over his prone form. “Nothing but a bad memory. And this is the last time you’ll ever see my face.”

I turn to leave, but before I can take a step, the front door explodes inward with a deafening bang.

Men in black pour into the room, shouting orders, guns drawn.

Dad raises his hands in a show of drunken surrender, but I don’t have time to react.

A dark hood comes down over my head, and then I’m roughly dragged backward, kicking and yelling as the retrieval team hauls me away.

Blinded, my heart hammers, each ragged breath echoing in my ears. The musty fabric is suffocating, but I force myself not to struggle too much against the tight grip on my biceps.

This is all going according to plan. Caleb and Jade are watching, ready to tail us to wherever these goons take me.

If we’re lucky, it will be straight to Bugrov.

I stumble as they march me out the front door, the sudden burst of cool night air making me gasp. Gravel crunches under heavy boots as multiple sets of footsteps hurry me along.

“Get him in the van,” a gruff voice barks. “Make it quick.”

Zip ties bite into my wrists as they bind my hands behind me, then a shove against my back sends me sprawling. I grunt in pain as my shoulder slams into cold, rigid metal. The door slams shut with a bang, sealing me in darkness with my captors.

The engine rumbles to life, and we lurch into motion. I strain to trace our path in my mind as we take turn after turn, trying to paint a mental map, but it’s no use. Too many lefts and rights to remember while my adrenaline is pumping and my thoughts circle with all the ways this could go wrong.

Caleb will know what to do, how to track me down, I tell myself, not quite able to quell the tremor running through me. He has to. I’m counting on him and Jade. Because I’m not sure I can face Bugrov on my own if this all goes sideways.

I’ve lost all sense of direction and how much time has passed when we come to a stop, and the engine cuts off.

With a metallic groan, the door opens, and cold air washes over me. Then the rough hands return, seizing my arms and hauling me out.

I stumble, my feet scrambling for purchase on concrete stairs leading down, down, down. The man who grips my arm half-carries me, my toes skimming the ground.

A heavy door creaks open, then slams shut behind us, the echo reverberating in the space. They drag me forward a few more steps before shoving me onto a surface that yields beneath me. A mattress, my mind supplies.

Pulse hammering, I struggle to sit up, the hood still obscuring my vision. “Where am I? Who are you people?”

Silence. Then a dark chuckle. “Hear that? I like an Omega with a little fight left in him.”

“Don’t matter,” a second voice grunts. “He belongs to someone.”

“So what? That just means he’s already been used,” the first man counters. “Who’s gonna know the difference?”

Ice shoots through my veins, and I scoot backward, putting as much distance between myself and the voices as possible.

“My owner is possessive.” Fear tightens my throat. “He’ll check to make sure I wasn’t touched.”

A bark of laughter follows. “Should’ve considered that before you ran away, little Omega.”

Fingers close around my ankle like a vice, dragging me back toward the edge of the mattress. I lash out with my other foot, connecting with a meaty thump .

The man swears, his grip loosening, and he snarls at his partner. “Hold him still, will you?”

Panic claws at me as hands clamp down on my legs, pinning me in place.

This is not part of the plan. This is real.

They paw at my waistband, yanking and tugging. I thrash against their restraint, but it’s no use. I’m trapped, helpless. The sound of fabric tearing fills the air, and a wave of cold washes over my exposed skin.

As I brace myself for the worst, a new voice cuts through the chaos. “What the hell are you doing to the product?”

The men release me.

“Back to your positions,” the same man commands as the hood whips from my head.

I blink at the sudden brightness, struggling to focus. A figure looms above me, and as my vision clears, I recognize Bugrov’s face.

He gives me a predatory leer. “I remember you.”

He reaches out to trace a finger along my jawline, and I flinch away from his touch.

“You sold for a pretty penny.” His eyes gleam with greed, and he steps back, pulling out his phone. “I’m sure your owner won’t mind paying a little extra for the finder’s fee.”

He dials a number, and after a moment, says into the receiver, “The toy has been acquired. Sending the location for pickup.”

As we wait, Bugrov circles the mattress, eyeing me like a piece of meat. “I seem to recall some special instructions for your original delivery. Tell me, are you pregnant? Because if you are, we could get more for your return.”

“Fuck you,” I spit, pouring every ounce of venom I can muster into the words.

Bugrov shrugs, unfazed, and paces away.

With his back to me, I survey my surroundings, my heart sinking as I spot the broken slot machines against the back wall. We’re in the underbelly of the casino, and judging by the number of men milling about, they’re using it as the base for their entire operation.

Time ticks by, counted only by Bugrov’s heavy steps.

Were Caleb and Jade able to follow me? Are they getting closer now? Or will Bugrov decide that waiting on Liam—no, Caruso—isn’t profitable enough and sell me again?

Each repetition of Bugrov’s path around me ramps up my anxiety. Was being brave worth the possibility of losing Liam? And what about the other Omegas ?

Sometimes I hate my brain, which plays out all the scenarios of a situation, showing me how it can succeed and how many more ways it can fail.

I lick my lips. “You have quite the setup here.”

Bugrov turns to me and scoffs. “Save your breath. You’re already sold.”

“And the others?” I try to take in our surroundings without him noticing. “Do you have more like me here?”

His eyes narrow. “What’s it to you?”

My pulse quickens. “So there are others? Like last time?”

“You’re chatty for a toy.” Suspicion tightens his features. “How did you slip Caruso’s leash?”

Fear spikes through me as I realize I overplayed my hand, but before I can respond, the door bangs open. “Boss, Caruso is here for his property.”

A thug comes in, Liam on his heels. He’s back in his disguise as Caruso, with blue contacts and thick-rimmed glasses. He had dyed his hair black again, and a five o’clock shadow darkens his jaw. It doesn’t hide his face as well as the full beard did, though, and the lights here are brighter than they were at the auction.

Bugrov studies Liam’s face, and his suspicion kicks back in, his hand twitching toward the gun at his hip. The air crackles with tension, and I hold my breath, praying our cover hasn’t been blown.

If Bugrov figures out Liam’s true identity, this whole operation will turn bloody.

Bugrov steps forward, eyeing Liam up and down. “You got the cash?”

Liam holds up a briefcase. “It’s all here. Now, I believe you have something of mine.”

Bugrov’s gaze flicks to me. “I do, indeed. But he put up a bit of a fight. I think a little extra is in order.”

Liam’s jaw clenches, but he keeps his voice even. “Our contract has a retrieval fee, which is what I brought. I’m not paying a cent more.”

Then Liam spots my ripped jeans, and a muscle twitches in his cheek. “What the hell happened to his pants? Who touched him?”

Bugrov waves a dismissive hand. “Relax, it was just a minor scuffle. If you’re concerned, though, check for yourself.”

For a moment, concern flickers beneath Liam’s hardened exterior. It vanishes in a flash, replaced by cool indifference. “I’ll take your word for it. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll be collecting my property.”

He drops the briefcase at Bugrov’s feet and strides over to the mattress, hauling me up, his grip firm but gentle.

Relief floods through me as we head for the door, but Bugrov’s voice stops us cold. “How is your new toy getting along with your first one? I’d be more than happy to acquire a third if you’re up for it.”

Liam hesitates, gears turning in his head. He gives Bugrov a slimy smile. “You know how Omegas get. Jealous of each other until they go into Heat. I think I’m fine with the ones I have for now, but I’ll keep your offer in mind for when I grow bored.”

He tightens his grip on my arm and propels me toward the exit, but we only make it two steps before the distinctive click of a gun sounds behind us.

“Not so fast,” Bugrov says, his voice gone cold. “This one here was my first purchase from you. So why don’t you tell me who you really are?”

My heart lodges in my throat as I realize our cover is blown.