Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

CRACK!

‘’You stupid, stupid whore!’’ Suzana’s mother’s shriek is so loud her eardrums nearly pop. She cowers on the floor where the slap had sent her sprawling. Her knees, under her long, modest brown skirt, are curled up. One arm automatically goes to protect her stomach. You can’t see it yet, but there’s a baby growing inside it. Isaak’s baby. Just the thought of it fills Suzana with courage. She struggles to her feet. Her mother is fuming, red faced, cheeks blown out. Her hands are fisted. She looks impossibly huge in their tiny kitchen, like a looming monster, ‘’don’t you ever think about anyone but yourself!? What about your sister!?’’ she points an accusing finger at four year old Lila, who is eating soft bread. Suzana never gets soft bread. Or nice clothes or a pretty name. Suzana is only a beta and Lila, sitting on the kitchen bench and watching with curious eyes, has the prettiest lilac hair. She’s an omega. She has the world before her, even if she lives in a shithole of a house.

But Suzana has something better. She has Isaak and their baby.

She wipes the corner of her mouth where the hit had split her lip, ‘’I’m leaving, mother.’’

Her mother doesn’t even seem to listen. Her voice rises, high, on the verge of reaching an impossible pitch, ‘’what will we do now!? You’ve ruined your good name! War is coming and you’re needed here, to fight for your sister and this family and you-you go and whore yourself out to the first alpha man that comes your way!’’

‘’Isaak is good!’’ Suzana parries. She can handle everything – the hitting, the name-calling – but she won’t stand for anyone insulting the only person she’d ever truly loved, ‘’he’s kind and he loves me, not like you!’’ she gives Lila a dirty look, ‘’or like her.’’

Her mother shakes with anger, ‘’get out. Get out, you little bitch! Go to your alpha! As if he’ll want you. As if he’ll want a stupid, plain beta-‘’

Suzana doesn’t hear anymore. She turns, mouth bleeding, skirt swishing, and leaves her family behind forever. She takes only one thing with her – her favourite book, tucked under her arm. She goes for the doors of their tiny apartment. She walks down the rickety stairs of the building and onto the street. People walk with their heads down. Enlistment posters are on ever wall, every street-lamp. Soon, the war will come but Suzana doesn’t care. She has Isaak.

He lives in the pretty part of town, without fumes and ugly cars and even uglier people. His house is huge and beautiful and white. Suzana’s heart beats faster as she wonders what it will be like to live here with their child. She clutches the book in her hand. Whether an alpha, omega or beta, she’ll love the child and she will read them this book, like she read it to herself when things got hard. Taking a deep breath, Suzana walks up to the beautiful doors and knocks. It’s opened by a handsome boy dressed in immaculate clothing. Isaak. His eyes widen when he sees her, ‘’Suzana! You’re bleeding!’’ he reached as if to wipe the blood away but stops himself.

She blushes at his care and quickly wipes the blood at her mouth with her free hand, ‘’I’m pregnant,’’ she blurts happily, ‘’we’re going to have a baby.’’

Isaak is not happy and she does not understand it.

The next days are turmoil of grey and hurt. He takes her to a nice clinic with a kind nurse who explains a strange procedure to her. Suzana doesn’t understand. Her brain won’t let her. She can barely grasp that Isaak will hardly look at her, won’t even hold her hand, even now, in the consultation room of the clinic. ‘’You’re getting an abortion’’ he’d said. He hadn’t said anything else to her since.

But she doesn’t kill her baby.

She goes home, numb. Everything feels as if it’s moving slowly, as if life is going on without her. She holds her stomach and comes back to her mother. She slaps her across the face again and tells her to get and never come back. Lila is sitting on the bench. She’s sucking on a lollipop.

So Suzana leaves.

On the bus out of the city, things become a bit clearer. A bit sharper. She cries and people give her strange looks. If she was an omega, they’d comfort her, offer her safety and warmth. But she’s a beta and she’s plain and so she’s not worth it. After the tears stop coming, she leans her head on the window and watches the buildings. Isaak doesn’t want her. Isaak had said that she was a beta and not suitable for him; that’s he’d marry an omega; that what she’d thought was love had only been a bit of fun for him. He’d tried to kill their baby.

She hated him.

She holds her book and cradles her stomach. She gets out of the city.

For a few days, she sleeps were she can, rough. It’s hard. She cries a lot. Slowly, she becomes numb to the pain in her heart. She considers joining the army but at the office, she’s turned away because she is pregnant. She finds a different job offer, though.

‘’Is...is this the Stormview Orphanage?’’ she asks. Her voice is hoarse. The huge woman with a stern face that opened the doors to the run-down building is even hoarser, in a sense.

‘’It is,’’ she says, looking at Suzana as if she was a rat, ‘’whose asking?’’

‘’I...I saw the job offer,’’ Suzana said softly, ‘’for the carer?’’

‘’Oh, yeah,’’ the woman says, as if she’d forgotten, ‘’I’m the warden. You of age?’’

‘’I’m nineteen,’’

She is looked up and down, ‘’I suppose you’ll do. You got a name?’’

Suzana opens her mouth, then pauses. She doesn’t want to say her name. It’s an ugly name. It’s the name of an unloved child. She doesn’t want to be Suzana Woods anymore. She looks down at her favourite book – at the scuffed pages and the faded, cursive title: ADELAIDE AND THE WONDEROUS WITCH OF THE WEST

‘’Adelaide,’’ she blurts.

The warden raises an eyebrow, ‘’last name?’’

She stares at her feet, unsure of what to say. The concrete path leading to the orphanage is bare and gnarly but, right by the steps to the doors grows a bush. It has pretty, pink flowers that will grow into tiny red fruit. She recognises it. It’s a hawthorn.

‘’Hawthorne,’’ she says quickly, raising her chin.

The warden sighs, ‘’alright, Adelaide Hawthorne. Come on in; you’re filthy.’’

She steps into the orphanage.

That night, dressed in clean pyjamas and in a bare, simple room, she miscarries. Her baby comes out of her in a gush of blood and pain. Once the other carers take the sheets and the bloodied pyjamas away, there’s nothing left of it at all.

Adelaide curls up in the fresh sheets and stares at the wall. She doesn’t cry. It’s fine.

She’ll have many more children.

*~*~*

‘’008, Yota Hawthorne, goes to the distinguished Anthony Redo, Detrich-Lach’s minister of foreign affairs! Aren’t you a lucky thing!’

When he heard Headmistress Hawthorne announce Yota, Dirk’s stomach dropped to his feet. His head whipped round to look at his best friend. Sixteen year old, red-head Yota stood where Hawthorne had positioned him in the ballroom, trembling on the spot. Dirk could see that even across the distance. Yota had been vaguely exited about finally meeting the alphas after years of training in the academy. There had been some hopefulness as he thought of which alpha would pick him and what his new home would be like. But now, as always, Yota’s fear won out. The omega raised his terrified eyes to Dirk, who fisted his hands. He knew this would happen. Four other omegas had already been sold to the highest bidding alphas; those who didn’t quite have enough money to outbid the likes of princes and dukes looked pissed off. Dirk was pissed off, too. Unlike with Yota, the nineteen year old’s anger usually won out over his fear. At least that’s what he liked to think, anyway. Anything but passive resistance had long since been beat out of him in the academy. Had he been standing next to the fire alarm during the second choosing ceremony, and not Aramis, he didn’t even know if he’d have the guts to pull it.

Dirk glanced towards Aramis. The blue haired boy looked as petrified as Yota but for a wholly different reason. Aramis was the perfect student. Where 001 Hawthorne, Magnus, had been rebellious and full of a fight for as long as Dirk had been at the academy, 002 Hawthorne, Aramis, had been the opposite. He’d done everything Headmistress Hawthorne had asked. He was pretty and perfect. It was him Anthony Redo had wanted originally. Until he pulled the fire alarm and allowed 004 Hawthorne, Brodie, to escape, he’d never even been in the isolation room. And now he paid the highest price. His cheek, where an enforcer had slapped him so hard the skin split, was still purple and yellow and bruised – a blatant statement of his disobedience. And, where Magnus had already been picked despite his rebellion, Aramis had been omitted. Even though he was second in line, the Headmistress didn’t announce an alpha for him and now he trembled where he stood, unsure of what was to come. Aramis, Magnus, Brodie, Yota...

Dirk would never see the only family he’d known for the past nine years again.

His head whipped back to Yota, just in time to catch his best friend’s terrified gaze as he was escorted out. Dirk’s heart felt as if it had become a rock and now made its way to his throat, making it hard to breathe. His inhale choked out of him as he kept his eyes on Yota. He desperately wanted to embrace his best friend one last time, to tell him he’d be just fine, but in that moment, all he could think about was that this was the last time...

Yota disappeared behind the doors of the academy tea room.

‘’Next is 009, Dirk Hawthorne!’’ the Headmistress announced merrily, unaware – or uncaring – of Dirk’s inner turmoil. Dirk looked to her on her pedestal, reading out the list of names. His stomach coiled. His eyes marked all the enforcers in the room. Lugh gave him a nasty grin from the main doorway to the tearoom. Dirk wished with all his heart that he had the courage to lunge himself at the enforcer. He’d at least take him out. But no matter how much he wanted to, his body wouldn’t move. It still remembered nine years of tasers and canes; pitch black of the isolation room and the hollowness of an empty stomach with no food all day... ‘’our lovely Dirk goes to Octavian Sadok, the minister of finance for Lennox!’’

Dirk looked around blindly. He couldn’t remember who Octavian Sadok was. He didn’t think they’d even met. The man who came to pick him up was wholly unfamiliar – he had brown hair pulled back into a ponytail and was approaching his thirties rapidly. His face was cold and twisted with distaste as he stopped in front of Dirk. He didn’t wear an expensive suit, instead donning the attire of a butler. Dirk frowned. Had a butler bought him? A part of him wanted to laugh, ‘’come along, boy,’’ the man said. Dirk’s senses told him he was a beta.

Dirk managed to cast the Headmistress one last hateful look before he was pulled out of the ballroom by the impatient man. A part of him was relieved to finally leave the academy, no matter what came ahead. The rest of him just wanted to run outside, grab Yota and get him somewhere safe. As if through a fog, Dirk remembered being made to sign a document that handed him over to Octavian Sadok, whomever that may be, ‘’Dirk?’’ the fog dispersed a little as a feminine voice penetrated it. Dirk shifted his eyes from the signed document before him, on an empty table in the dining room, to Miss Valesca, the carer of class 1. She was a glorified babysitter but she’d raised them more than Hawthorne, really, ‘’Dirk? Are you okay?’’ she asked gently. Beside Dirk, the beta man didn’t seem pleased with the question.

Dirk’s eyes shuttered as he looked at his carer, ‘’as if you care,’’ he said callously.

The beta man checked the watch at his wrist, ‘’we should go,’’ he said, ‘’master will be waiting.’’

Master. Dirk felt sick. He knew that alphas liked to be called ‘sir’ or ‘mister’ or whatever, but master!? What kind of freak was he going to?

The man led him outside. Dirk wished he could savour the night air, could cherish those few inhales and exhales when he was almost free.

But he couldn’t.

*~*~*

With every Hawthorne that was called out and picked up by their alphas, Aramis grew more and more nervous. His heart hammered in his chest. His palms sweated. His light blue eyes, their shade identical to the colour of his hair that marked him as an omega, were looking around in panic. After Elwyn, Willow, 012 Hawthorne, was announced for Anne Pelegrin. The young millionaire smirked. She was chewing gum and she waved a manicured hand at Willow. The aquamarine-haired omega summoned up a perfect smile, one that only Aramis could best and one he could not call up now. There was a bounce to Willow’s step as she went to her new alpha. She was one of the few in class 1 that still believed that the alphas that bought them would be like princes and princesses in the fairytale books they read at the academy. That their life now would be perfect. Aramis had thought that, too.

Until now.

It was just him and Lys left. 002 and 013. Slowly, Aramis turned, holding his breath. His eyes met Lys’. There were seven alphas left in the ballroom. Six looked a little prissy as they realised the sum of money they had bid for the omegas had been out-bid. One looked smug, ‘’and finally, 013, Lys, goes to my lovely Cepheus!’’

Lord Cepheus Gleiter – a huge man, sparkling with all the jewellery he wore to show off his wealth – stepped forward, his smug smirk growing. Lys looked absolutely horrified and Aramis couldn’t blame him, ‘’come along, dear,’’ the Lord purred and shivers ran down Aramis’ spine. Whatever happened, at least he wasn’t going with this toad of a man.

Lys was pale. He looked to Hawthorne, then to Aramis, then to Gleiter, ‘’w-wait-‘’ Aramis felt a pang of hurt go through his heart. A part of him wanted to lunge himself between Gleiter and Lys. He rarely had those instincts for his fellow Hawthornes, but they surfaced, like when he pulled the fire alarm to get Brodie out. But he didn’t move now. He was too afraid of what his own fate would bring and so he just averted his gaze as Lys was lead out by Gleiter.

Once the doors slammed shut behind them, all eyes turned to Aramis.

The six alphas that remained – all male –  seemed a little more appeased though, logically, only one of them could have Aramis as theirs. Hawthorne stepped down from her podium, giving the alphas a dazzling smile, ‘’gentlemen, follow me,’’ she went to Aramis, offering her arm.

Aramis hesitantly took her arm, hand resting on her bicep, ‘’H-headmistress...’’

‘’Shush, now, dear,’’ Hawthorne patted his hand resting on her arm fondly and led the way. The six alphas followed. Aramis could feel their eyes on his back and he dreaded to look behind him. The academy was eerily quiet. All of class 1 was gone – all but him – and he suddenly felt very alone. All the other classes were fast asleep.

No one would help him.

Hawthorne reached a random bedroom that Aramis had never been in. She unlocked the doors and led him inside. It seemed to be a guest room of sorts – it was much smaller than the dormitories and there was only one large bed, instead of two rows of them. The alphas filed in after them. Nobody bothered to turn the light on as the alphas hovered near the walls as Hawthorne turned to face Aramis. She drew her hands down his pale blue hair, over his slim shoulders in his stripped blazer before adjusting the purple ribbon at his collar, ‘’oh, my dear Aramis,’’ she murmured and tears gathered in his eyes. Something was very, very wrong, ‘’I didn’t want it to be you. It was going to be Greer or Elwyn or that unruly Dirk,’’ she sighed, ‘’if only you hadn’t misbehaved so.’’

‘’What’s going on, Headmistress?’’ Aramis’ voice was sore.

She patted his bruised cheek. It stung, ‘’your actions cost me an omega,’’ she said, gently but sternly, as if she was correcting his posture during dance class, ‘’Brodie ran away because you pulled that fire alarm. I could have fetched a very good price for him,’’ she tucked a finger under his chin, raising his head and inspecting him one last time, ‘’there’s still a quota I expected to be filled tonight and there’s a few alphas left. I couldn’t just leave them unsatisfied, could I? They’re still my lovely customers,’’ she leaned in, pressing a kiss to his forehead, ‘’be a good boy, dear, like you always are.’’ then she moved past him and extended her hand out to the alphas, ‘’gentlemen. You have two hours; we have somewhere to be after that.’’

Aramis’ blood ran cold as he turned and watched the remaining alphas pull out envelopes from their suits, ‘’twenty thousand, as we agreed,’’ the first one muttered. He was a big man and he was casting Aramis impatient looks. Hungry looks. The others followed suit, paying Hawthorne what they were due. With the envelopes in her hands, Hawthorne turned towards the doors. She didn’t even look at Aramis again.

Desperation gripped Aramis at the same time as realisation. He lunged, grabbing Hawthornes’ arm, crying hysterically, ‘’Headmistress, please! Don’t leave me here!’’

Hawthorne easily pulled her arm free, ‘’be good, Aramis,’’ she said.

Aramis’ blue eyes filled with tears, ‘’I have been good!’’ he cried and his voice cracked, ‘’I’ve done everything you ever wanted! I was a great student, I never stepped out of line so why...why...’’ his voice fizzled out as tears closed his throat up.

Hawthorne’s eyes were cold as she looked at Aramis. She’d lost her patience. Her care, which Aramis had always know was faked, disappeared as if rubbed off a chalk board, ‘’don’t be a brat. It’s your fault; who would want to pay more for someone with such an ugly bruise on their face?’’

Then she turned and left the room. The lock clicked as the room was locked.

Aramis stared at the spot where she’d just been with a numb gaze. His fingers came up, slowly, to touch his cheek, where the bruise was fading. He’d been good, he’d never went against orders, he’d only been punished that one time when he pulled that wretched fire alarm...and for what? He could have rebelled like Magnus and Elwyn, he could have hated everything like Dirk, he could have turned everything off like Greer...but he’d been a good boy. And, in the end, it didn’t matter. Because his worth, like the worth of every omega in the academy, came down to his beauty.

And he was bruised.

He didn’t even realise there were tears water-falling down his face till one of the six alphas stepped in front of him, ‘’there now, shhh,’’ he said with an amicable smile, pulling Aramis against him. His arms closed around Aramis in an embrace, ‘’don’t cry, sweet thing. We won’t hurt you.’’

The first sob broke past Aramis’ lips, ‘’p-please...don’t...’’

‘’C’mon, let’s speed this up,’’ came a gruff voice. Aramis flinched as he heard the click of someone undoing their belt, ‘’we only have two hours and this better be worth my twenty thousand.’’

‘’I want to take him first,’’ came another impatient voice. The alpha holding Aramis stroked his hair, as if he wasn’t about to...

Aramis’ hands fisted in the shirt of the alpha holding him, ‘’I-I don’t want to...p-please...’’ he sniffled.

‘’As if! What gives you the right!?’’ the first voice demanded, deaf to Aramis’ pleads, ‘’I paid twenty thousand for the right to deflower one of the distinguished Hawthorne academy students!’’

‘’We all paid twenty thousand!’’

Aramis squeezed his eyes tight, the tears coming faster as there was squabbling, some pushing... ‘’gentlemen, honestly,’’ the alpha holding Aramis said gently and for a second, Aramis thought he’d save him. He looked up at the alpha, who gave the other alphas a friendly smile. He gestured to Aramis in his arms, ‘’he clearly likes me best so I shall have him first.’’

Aramis’ heart froze in his chest.

The alpha looked back down to him and his smile made Aramis feel sick. It reminded him of Hawthorne, ‘’now, little one,’’ he said, letting go of Aramis, ‘’try to enjoy this.’’

And he shoved Aramis onto the bed.

*~*~*

Adelaide Hawthorne walked back up the stairs after seeing her last six customers out. She’d made a nice profit from the first class; she’d make much more from the other classes she was training. For now, she still had a couple thousand to gain. She swept down the dim corridor and opened the doors to the guest room.

Aramis lay on the bed, naked.

Adelaide flicked the light on and Aramis didn’t even flinch. His eyes were closed. She tutted, coming closer and inspecting him, ‘’dear me, I told them not to leave marks,’’ she murmured to herself. In addition to some hickeys and bites, Aramis’ body was littered with bruises where the alphas had grabbed too hard or snatched him from each other. Adelaide crossed her arms over her chest, tapping her forearm in thought. Perhaps six was too much to be left over? She’s have to calculate it better for class 2, so that only three and four alphas were left over – she’d still make a nice profit from them paying her to sleep with the lowest-bid omega in the class. She sighed, unfolding her arms to stroke Aramis’ bare shoulder, ‘’poor thing. If not for that bruise, you could have raked in much more money...’’ she shook her head and then shook him. He didn’t move, ‘’Aramis, time to get up,’’ she said gently. He frowned lightly. Was he asleep or unconscious? If he was unconscious, it would be troublesome... ‘’Aramis,’’ she shook him harder. He still didn’t move, ‘’Aramis, for God’s sake!’’ she snapped impatiently, grabbing him by the hair and yanking him up.

He cried out, the pain waking him in an instant. She dropped his hair and he looked around, disoriented. His eyes were puffy and red from crying, ‘’w...wha...’’ he mumbled, sniffling. His cheeks were still wet from tears.

Adelaide gathered his uniform from the ground. At least it wasn’t torn. She put it next to him on the bed, ‘’put your uniform back on and sort out your hair. We have places to be,’’ Aramis didn’t move, staring wide-eyed into space, comprehending what had just happened, ‘’Aramis!’’ Adelaide snapped and Aramis flinched, ‘’uniform. On. Now.’’

Ten minutes later she led a stumbling, wincing Aramis out of the academy. She didn’t bother with manners or politeness anymore. Aramis was too in shock to even register it or the vice-like hand on his forearm, dragging him through the dark corridors. She put him in the passenger seat of her car, parked in the now-forlorn front yard. They drove in dead silence. Aramis felt too shocked, too in pain, to even cry anymore. He couldn’t keep track of time. He didn’t even know how long they’d been driving for when Hawthorne finally parked the car. They were in downtown Stormview, still alive even long after 3am with flashing neon signs and club advertisement, though Aramis wouldn’t know that. He’d never been here. He’d never been anywhere. Like Magnus, he’d been brought to the academy when it had been an orphanage and he’d been only a baby.

‘’Get out of the car,’’ Hawthorne said curtly. Aramis didn’t move until she slammed the driver’s doors shut and it startled him out of his stupor. On shaking legs, with his behind burning with pain, he got out of the car. The neon lights here felt all too bright. He hung his head and squeezed his eyes shut until Hawthorne grabbed his arm again and dragged him along. Aramis dared to open his eyes, looking around. There were plenty of people around – wearing skimpy outfits, laughing, stumbling and giggling, drunk... if he reached out to them, to any one of them, for help, would he get it? Would it even be worth it...? Would it change anything...?

Before Aramis could come to a decision, they turned abruptly. Aramis nearly tripped and fell down the black stairs that led from the pavement to a basement-type establishment. Hawthorne didn’t seem to care. She kept an hand on his arm as she knocked. The doors were opened by a girl in a tiny red dress, with a black boa shawl draped over her shoulders. She gave Hawthorne a flirty smile, then went serious when she introduced herself. They exchanged some words. The girl smiled again and nodded, leading them in. Aramis didn’t hear anything they said. It was as if his head had been pushed underwater. They entered a dim space lit with red lights and pulsing with unfamiliar music. There were smartly dressed men and women everywhere, their arms draped over arms and waists of beautiful, skimpily dressed boys and girls.

Before Aramis knew it, he was standing in front of a woman who inspected him critically. She was golden haired with heavy makeup, ‘’has he been used?’’ she asked suspiciously.

‘’Just tonight, for the first time,’’ Hawthorn replied lightly.

The other woman quirked up her eyebrow, ‘’how much did you sell his virginity for?’’

‘’A little over one hundred thousand,’’ Hawthorne said smugly.

The woman laughed, ‘’now that’s a price! Alright, I’ll take him – five thousand, like we agreed?’’

Hawthorne extended out her hand, ‘’yes.’’

‘’H-headmistress?’’ Aramis whispered. His voice was drowned out by the music in the locale. He looked around quickly, feeling panic crawl up his throat. The low, sensuous beat of the music, the red lights, the half-naked girls and boys...Aramis had a sickening feeling that what had happened tonight would continue to happen. He looked sharply to Hawthorne, ‘’headmistress!’’ he cried, voice cracking.

The headmistress ignored him. The other woman shook Hawthorne’s hand, then produced a cheque and gave it to her. Aramis looked to her with wide, terrified eyes. Hawthorne just patted his head without looking up from the cheque, ‘’be good,’’ she said distractedly and walked off.

Just like that, she was gone. Up the stairs and out of the doors. For the first time in his life, Aramis wasn’t Hawthorne’s property – but it didn’t matter.

The owner of the brothel gave Aramis a once over, then clicked her fingers at the nearest girl, ‘’put him in one of the rooms and, for god’s sake, find something for that gnarly bruise. If we’re lucky we can put him to work tonight.’’

The beta girl she’d hailed was...odd. There was something off about her face. Something missing in her eyes. She didn’t say anything. She took Aramis’ wrist and pulled him along. They left the night club behind and walked down a dimly lit corridor with rows of doors. Aramis could only imagine what happened behind them, ‘’you’ll take you customers in your room so make sure it’s always clean,’’ the girl said. She sounded empty. Tired, ‘’if you want clean sheets after, tough shit. Don’t give us more work by adding to the laundry pile unless you have to.’’ they stopped by one of the rooms. The girl pushed open the doors, revealing a large bedroom with a King’s sized bed, set with lush pillows and sheets. There was a nightlight on, a wardrobe, a desk with fresh flowers... ‘’there’s clothes in the wardrobe. Put them on,’’ the girl said, ‘’I’ll go see if I can find you some ice or something.’’

She walked out of the room, the doors closing behind her softly.

Aramis stood in the middle of the room in his striped uniform, not quite comprehending what had just happened. A single tear ran down his cheek. He’d given Hawthorne everything; he’d moulded himself to be perfect, hoping, stupidly, that...that... that what? He’d loved her. It was a sick love, the love of someone who had to love or he’d die. She patted his head and stroked his cheek, smiling, pleased, when he did things right; she complimented him and called him her favourite all through his childhood; she gave him the occasional hug and Aramis savoured it, all of it. She was the only mother he’d ever known and he’d been stupid enough that maybe, despite all the punishment and the selling and everything, the Headmistress loved her Hawthornes. He’d thought that maybe she’d love him, even if just a little.

But she didn’t.

And she’d just tossed him away in the end. Like his parents when he’d been born. Like Anthony Redo when he’d pulled the fire alarm. Like everyone.

Aramis turned and opened the doors. He didn’t think. He wouldn’t let himself be locked up again. The corridor was empty and Aramis walked down it with purpose and out into the dark night club. The owner was by the bar, laughing with the bartender. The club was packed. Some patrons were already herding their chosen prostitutes towards the corridors, to occupy their rooms for the next few hours. Aramis’ mind was blank. All he knew was that he had to get out of here. The blank-faced girl rose up in front of him, ‘’hey, where are you going?’’

He pushed past her, leaving her watching him disappear in the crowd with a stunned look on her face. Aramis knew he was running out of time. The clock was ticking. He elbowed and shouldered his way past the crowd. Some, prostitutes and patrons alike, grumbled or even tried to grab him but he was unstoppable. He would not stop until he was out of this hellish place.

‘’Hey, watch it!’’ someone snarled when Aramis tried to push past them. He stumbled, the tips of his polished brown shoes hitting the bottom of the stairs. He raised his head. The doors were right there.

He climbed the stairs, not pausing. The girl in the red dress gave him an absent, flirty smile, ‘’come again,’’ she said, opening the doors for him.

A gust of fresh air hit Aramis’ face.

And then he was running.

*~*~*

Dirk sat, back straight, hands in his lap, in a car for the first time since he was ten. The man that had come to pick him up, who’d introduced himself as Radcliffe, sat in the driver’s seat. His driving was smooth and impeccable as he pulled out of the driveway of the academy. Dirk didn’t even think about giving that place a mental goodbye. He was too concentrated on what lay ahead.

‘’Our master is Octavian Sadok,’’ Radcliffe spoke once they were on the highway. He had a lilting, pleasant voice, like a nobleman, ‘’he is the minister of finance for Lennox and he is very important, though,’’ he sighed, ‘’under-appreciated. He is always busy with work and he is often very tired. You have been bought to make his downtime as pleasant and peaceful as possible,’’ Radcliffe’s voice turned stern, ‘’you will do everything he tells you to do without back-chat, though I’m sure you’re aware of that. You will be everything the master wants you to be. Do you understand? You must be perfect for him. You must fulfil his every desire. Yes?’’ the man shot Dirk a look through the mirror, ‘’do you understand, boy?’’

I hate you, Dirk decided.

‘’My name is Dirk,’’ he said out loud.

Radcliffe’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, but then relaxed, ‘’I’m...aware that this is probably a new and anxious change for you,’’ he said, voice strained, like he was forcing himself to, ‘’I will cut you some slack today. But tomorrow I expect you to be on your best behaviour, always, especially around the master. He is rather old-fashion and he expects impeccable manners. Reel in that sharp tongue of yours. You will speak softly and sweetly. None of those glares, either. Trust me, Dirk, you won’t like the alternative.’’

Dirk gritted his teeth, ‘’do I have to call him master, too?’’ as if he was a slave. Well...that did seem about right. The idea of speaking ‘sweetly’ made him want to throw up.

‘’You will address him as whatever he decides is best,’’ Radcliffe replied, either not catching or ignoring the bite in Dirk’s words, ‘’’sir’ is a sensible option to start with.’’

Dirk didn’t reply and Radcliffe didn’t talk again. They drove in silence for what felt like eternity, but an entirely too-short one. Radcliffe took them to the nicer part of Stormview – at least Dirk assumed that it was the nicer part. He hadn’t seen all that much of the city on their weekly walks with Hawthorne. The quiet streets were lined with compact, modern houses. The one Radcliffe pulled up onto was white with large windows, a massive garage and a gate. Dirk hated gates. The black wicket parted for the car and Radcliffe parked. He shot Dirk one last look, ‘’remember what I said,’’ he took the keys out of the ignition and got out of the car, hurrying to open the doors for Dirk. The omega stepped out, looking around. A small yard. The gate, which didn’t look all that high. At least it wasn’t the impenetrable fortress that the academy had. He wondered if Yota’s new home would have a fence or a wall. He bit his lip, nerves stirring in his stomach. He was afraid for his best friend.

Radcliffe straightened his butler’s jacket, ‘’come along. The master is waiting.’’

They headed for the house. Dirk refused to throw a tantrum or plant his feet and not move. He’d face this head-on. Radcliffe walked first, unlocking the front door and holding them open for the omega. Dirk walked into the hallway, not bothering to look around.

His new owner was already waiting for him.

Octavian Sadok wasn’t very remarkable. He had a plain face that wasn’t unpleasant to look at, but was definitely forgettable. He was neither ugly nor handsome, just somewhere in the middle. He was of a good height, with broad shoulders that most alphas possessed and Dirk put him at maybe thirty years old. His hair was brown with two streaks of premature, stress-induced grey running through them. His eyes were grey and tired. He gave Dirk a weary look as he approached, Radcliffe so close behind Dirk could practically feel his breath on his neck, ‘’gosh, Rad, I told you specifically not to get this one,’’ he said. His disdained eyes stopped on Dirk’s neon-green hair as if he had a mushroom sprouting from the top of his head. Dirk hadn’t expected that kind of greeting. His heart pulsed with faint hope. If this man didn’t want him, then maybe...

‘’Forgive me, master,’’ Radcliffe said and he sounded genuinely distraught, ‘’I tried to bid for one of the less...eye-catching ones, but they were simply too expensive. This one was the only one within our budget.’’

Dirk’s hands ached to fist in anger. He hated being talked about like an object, though he should be used to it by now. His hands wouldn’t close, though. As much as Dirk wanted to fight back, he was too scared. Just like in the academy, his fear of punishment kept him seething quietly, in secret. Meanwhile, Octavian stepped up to him and reached out. His fingers were gentle on Dirk’s face as he inspected it closely. Then, he pushed back Dirk’s neon-green hair out of his face, sighing softly, ‘’I suppose you’re not bad to look at,’’ he murmured finally, ‘’I’ll just have to get used to the hair.’’

I hate you, Dirk decided, staring straight into Octavian’s grey eyes and wishing he had the courage to say it out loud.

‘’Well, then,’’ Octavian pulled back his hand, ‘’are you hungry, Dirk?’’

The fact that this man knew Dirk’s name pissed him off, ‘’no,’’ he said tightly.

Octavian looked surprised, ‘’please address me properly,’’ he said. He didn’t seem angry but Dirk remembered Radcliffe’s threat from the car.

‘’No, master,’’ he said, hating every syllable.

Octavian huffed softly, amused, ‘’no, sir,’’ he corrected gently.

‘’No, sir,’’ Dirk parroted.

‘’If you’re not hungry then we shall forfeit dinner,’’ the alpha checked his watch. He spoke in that same elegant, posh way as Radcliffe, ‘’Rad, bring some tea and cakes up to the library, would you?’’

‘’Certainly, master,’’ Radcliffe said.

‘’Follow me,’’ Octavian told Dirk. They left the small foyer and went into the corridor, that seemed to hold doors that led to the kitchen. That’s where Radcliffe disappeared while Octavian started up the wooden staircase. Dirk went up to the first floor with him. Each step felt heavy and by the time they reached a door, his heart was hammering wildly in his chest and his palms felt clammy. Octavian didn’t notice, mostly because he had his back to Dirk. His suit was well cut and it fit him well, but the fact that he wore it in his own home told Dirk exactly what kind of place he’d landed in – oppressive, rigid, demanding. Just like the academy.

The library was the opposite of the modern house – it was old-fashioned, dark and cluttered. The walls were lines with shelves filled with books. The rug on the ground was brown and blue and it looked vintage. Old. There were some lamps, a table, an armchair and a plump looking pillow on the floor, by the foot of the chair. Octavian flicked the lights on, filling the library with a warmly glowing light. Dirk didn’t hate this room, in fairness. It was nothing like the polished and pristine academy. He would have liked it for his little sanctuary, but it looked like it was Octavian’s, from the way he sat down in the chair and sighed, relaxed. Dirk glared at him when Octavian rubbed his temple.

You look like you’ve had a hard day, Dirk thought viciously, wishing he could say it out loud, wait till you find out about mine.

‘’Sit,’’ Octavian said, opening his grey eyes. At first, Dirk frowned, looking around for another chair. But there was no second armchair; instead, Octavian gestured to the pillow at his feet.

Dirk had never felt anger surge in him so quickly and violently. He felt suddenly hot, like he’d explode.

He was supposed to sit on the floor, by Octavian’s feet, like a gods-damned dog.

I hate you, Dirk thought.

‘’Dirk?’’ Octavian’s brows furrowed and Dirk realised he was just standing there, teeth gritted, staring at the pillow like it was something vile.

Refuse, he urged himself, tell him you’re not his pet. Don’t sit down. Don’t!

But even as his mind screamed at him, his legs moved on their own. What would Octavian do if Dirk refused? What terrible punishment did they have in this place? An isolation room? Tasers, slaps, canes, starvation? Dirk didn’t want to find out. He didn’t want to sit at Octavian’s feet. He didn’t want to belong to him. But not doing as he was told instilled a fear in him that would always win out over his anger. It hadn’t always been like that. Those first years in the academy, he’d been the biggest trouble-maker around. He’d been so rebellious even Elwyn had been impressed.

But Hawthorne beat that out of him soon enough.

‘’Yes, sir,’’ Dirk said, wishing Octavian would pick up on the small dose of loathing he’d dared to put in his voice as he sat down. The pillow was soft and comfortable but Dirk hated it anyway. He sat with his legs up against his chest, folding his arms under his knees. He stared at the stripes on his shorts and the hem of the white socks, trying to ignore Octavian’s presence. It was hard. Dirk hadn’t sat this close to an alpha in a long time.

Dirk heard Octavian pick up a book from the table. There was a rustle of pages, ‘’we spoke briefly during both choosing ceremonies,’’ Octavian said conversationally, flicking through his book to find where he’d left off. He never dog-earned his books and he always forgot to tuck his bookmark in, ‘’do you remember?’’

‘’No, sir,’’ Dirk said, feeling a prick of satisfaction at that.

But Octavian didn’t seem bothered, giving an amicable chuckle, ‘’I can’t blame you. I’m always told I don’t have much of a presence.’’ Dirk would have to disagree. It was like sitting with his back to some terrible beast. Dirk could feel the beat of Octavian’s power, the feel of him, his alpha, as if he was sitting with his back against a fireplace. It was hard to sit still. As if sensing his restlessness, Octavian reached out. Hesitantly, he sunk his fingers into Dirk’s neon hair. The omega flinched, surprised by the sudden touch and Octavian snatched back his hand, ‘’did I startle you?’’

Dirk’s arms tightened around his legs, ‘’yes.’’

‘’I see. I’m sorry,’’ Octavian said quietly.

Dirk looked over his shoulder sharply at his new master, brows drawn. Had Octavian just...? Their eyes met and Octavian held Dirk’s gaze for just a moment, before looking back down at his page.

Radcliffe came in a moment later with a tray of tea and cakes. When he set it down on the table and left, Octavian poured Dirk his tea, not the other way round.

Dirk stared at his teacup in his lap, more confused than ever.

*~*~*

Aramis wasn’t stupid.

He knew he could only run so far.

When his lungs burned so much he could barely breathe and his legs felt like they would give out, he looked around wildly. He’d gotten away from that brightly lit, loud part of Stormview. He was in some kind of working district, he supposed. There were huge sky-scrapers here that Aramis could see from the academy in the distance. They rose like walls with a million dark windows staring at him. The only source of light were the street lamps. The sidewalks were mostly empty, though there was some steady traffic. That both reassured and scared Aramis. Every time a car slowed, his heart came up to his throat. It could be Hawthorne or the police or that brothel owner...

A big bus, plastered with adverts for face cream, swerved gently from the main line of traffic and onto the parking spot in front of a bus stop. Aramis’ eyes widened. Bus stop – of course! He’d seen them on their weekly walks with Hawthorne – and a bus could carry him further away than his legs could. He hurried to join the short line of tired-looking night shift workers finally going home. Their suits were crumpled from hours of sitting behind desks. Two construction workers in bright orange vests shared a box of donuts, even though it wasn’t even dawn. Aramis was the last to step into the bus. He clutched his shirt uncertainly. The floor of the bus rumbled beneath his feet and it was strange. He’d never been on the bus before. He’d never been anywhere but down the street during the weekly walks. He tried to follow the construction workers within the largely empty bus and nearly had a heart-attack when the bus driver rapped his knuckles on the glass panel separating him from the passengers, ‘’hey, kid. The fare is two-fifty,’’ he said. He looked pretty tired. There was a cigarette in the front pocket of his company shirt.

‘’Two...fifty?’’ Aramis echoed. He didn’t even have a penny on him, ‘’u-um...I don’t have any money,’’ his voice was tiny and trembling.

The bus driver gave him a once over, marking his baby blue hair, the bruise fading on his cheek, the one blooming on his neck from where one of the alphas had held him down too tightly, then finally stopped on his stripped uniform, ‘’you a school kid?’’ he asked dubiously, taking one hand off the wheel to stroke his moustache.

‘’Y-yes,’’ Aramis said quickly, shifting on his feet uncomfortably. He looked behind his shoulder at the oozing night and the empty bus stop. It scared him to death to think he might have to get back out there. He turned again to the bus driver, blurting desperately, ‘’p-please, I missed my last bus and...and...’’ his voice fizzled out. His brain wasn’t working properly. He didn’t know what lie to make out to make it believable.

But he must have looked pathetic enough, because the driver sighed and waved his hand, ‘’just this once.’’

Aramis could have sobbed with relief, ‘’thank you,’’ he said and hurried inside the bus, before the driver could change his mind.

He sat at the back, away from the window in case he was spotted. The windows were huge and Aramis felt exposed. He hung his head, staring at his feet. He’d go as far as the bus would take him; as far away from this wretched place as he could. Slowly, the passengers left. With each bus stop, there were less and less of them. After maybe forty minutes, it was just Aramis and the two construction workers. When Aramis looked up, he caught them staring at him and murmuring to each other. He quickly looked back down, fisting his hands in his lap. Fear made it hard to swallow. He didn’t know how dangerous the city would be for someone like him...

‘’Hey, kid.’’

Aramis jumped and looked up, startled. The construction workers had come over to the back. The rest of the bus was empty. The bus driver was so far away – would a scream startle him enough to help? Aramis felt his breathing speed up, his hands fisting so tightly in his lap his knuckles were white, ‘’y-yes?’’ he choked out. He couldn’t do this again. He couldn’t go through all of that again-

‘’Here,’’ the construction worker holding the donuts smiles and extended the box to him. There were three donuts left, all pretty, with a different kind of glaze and topping. Stunned, Aramis took the box carefully, his hands trembling, ‘’you looked hungry.’’ On cue, Aramis’ stomach rumbled. He remembered that he hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. The ball seemed like it had happened so long ago, not a few hours back.

The bus stopped at the bus stop. The two construction workers gave Aramis sympathetic smiles. They waves and got off, leaving Aramis alone in the bus, save for the driver. Carefully, he opened the box and picked out a donut with a pink glaze. It was definitely not something he’d ever had at the academy. Daintily, he brought the donut to his lips and took a bite. It was overwhelmingly sweet, the icing clinging to his tongue but it was also comforting, somehow. Aramis felt tears sting his eyes and he willed himself not to cry, instead taking another bite.

He finished off the donut just as the bus stopped, ‘’last stop!’’ the driver called.

Aramis hurried to close the box and get out of the bus. He was instantly hit with cold night air. It was September and the nights would soon get freezing. Aramis shivered in his blazer and shorts and looked around. He needed a place to spend the rest of the night. Tomorrow, he’d think of a plan. Things wouldn’t be as scary in the light of day. He looked around as, with a heavy sigh, the bus drove off. He was, quite literally, in the middle of nowhere. The bus stop was shabby and it stood on the edge of a grassy field of sorts. It would provide okay shelter but Aramis was scared he’d be too easily found here. He squinted, staring into the darkness. There was only one street lamp here, right by the bus stop, but there were some lights in the distance. That’s where Aramis set off.

After about twenty minutes of an agonising, freezing walking, Aramis reached a wide overpass. The occasional car passed on overhead but you could barely hear it over all the noise. In the distance rose buildings similar to the sky-scrapers, shorter but with many windows. The buildings looked much shabbier, too, and most had fire staircases running down the brick walls. But it was the under bridge area that caught Aramis’ attention. There were people everywhere, squatting. Some run-down tents, a dirt-smeared caravan...most people sat against the walls of the overpass’ columns or huddled in circles around canisters from which fire burned. They all wore dark, dirty clothing. Most had hats or fingerless gloves. It was like a whole community of people who did not belong anywhere but Aramis didn’t dare approach, especially when the few nearest ones cast him looks that lingered a little too long.

Aramis hurried down the underpass, where things quietened and, when he had the chance, slipped behind the column and onto the other side of the bridge, hurrying on. As much as the darkness scared him, it felt safer than that overpass. He made for the tall, neglected buildings in the distance but pretty quickly came up on a set of warehouses and forlorn factories. The buildings stood – metal and imposing – before Aramis like a wall. They  barely had any windows, not ones you could climb in through anyway. The doors were all sealed shut. Many had barbed wire and electrical fences running around them, probably to keep out the homeless people from the overpass. There were a few street lamps here. One flickered ominously as Aramis passed.

The factories and warehouses created a sort of maze that was not empty by any means. The overpass community spilled over here, too. In one alleyway between two stout factories, Aramis saw a passed-out man with needles scattered around him. In another, there was a boy with his trousers down and a girl on her knees before him. Aramis hurried on before they caught him looking, feeling a little sick as he remembered the taste, the pain of those men shoving themselves down his throat. He clutched his box of donuts and ducked into the nearest alleyway when he saw a group of loud, laughing people approaching. He crouched down by a foul-smelling sewage pipe, holding his breath till the group went past.

‘’Wow, are those donuts!?’’Aramis screamed, then quickly clamped his hand over his mouth as the person who had snuck up on him screamed, too. Both screams cut off abruptly, ‘’what the hell, dude!?’’ the voice demanded. Aramis blinked, watching a boy come closer.

He was way too young to be out at this hour by himself, maybe twelve or thirteen. Aramis only guessed his age because his voice had started breaking, making it sound hoarse and weird; otherwise, the boy was short as an eight year old. It was hard to tell what the boy looked like in the dark. He wore oversized clothing and a black hat pulled low over his brows. When he grinned, braces flashed on his teeth, ‘’sorry for scaring you but, seriously, are those donuts?’’

‘’Y-yes,’’ Aramis slowly stood from his crouch. The boy stayed way too close for comfort, staring at the donuts hungrily. Aramis hesitantly extended them out to him, ‘’u-uh...do you want some?’’

‘’Yes!’’ the boy said instantly, grabbing the box, then paused, ‘’what do you want in return?’’

Aramis blinked, ‘’um...nothing?’’

‘’Really? Sweet!’’ then the boy flicked open the box and grabbed one of the donuts, inhaling it in two bites, ‘’oh, fuck, that’s the shit.’’

‘’Don’t swear!’’ Aramis said automatically, appaled.

The boy gave him a confused look then grinned, ‘’you’re so weird,’’ he said, mouth full, and ate the second donut, tossing the box on the floor carelessly. He looked to Aramis, ‘’you lost?’’ he asked, marking his uniform, ‘’ran away from school?’’

‘’S-something like that...’’ Aramis whispered. Now that he stopped walking, fatigue and cold made him so, so sleepy. He looked to the boy, ‘’um...actually, can I ask a favour?’’

The boy wiped his hands on his scruffy pants, ‘’sure, ask away.’’

‘’Do you have any spare clothes?’’

The boy looked surprised but eventually, he shrugged, ‘’follow me.’’ Aramis’ guide wove effortlessly between the alleyways, knowing exactly where he was going. How long had he been here? After a while, they reached yet another alleyway – they all looked the same to Aramis, sometimes packed with people, sometimes with things, sometimes empty. This one had a sleeping bag stretched out on a blanket. There was a back-pack, a cooking stove and a big bin bag by the sleeping bag, ‘’this is my spot,’’ the boy said, proudly, ‘’everyone knows not to mess with me or try to take my stuff.’’

‘’Really?’’ Aramis asked dubiously.

‘’Of course,’’ the boy said, opening up his bin bag and digging around, ‘’you mind if I keep your old clothes?’’

‘’No,’’ Aramis tugged on his purple ribbon.

‘’What’s your name anyway?’’ the boy asked, starting to pull out lumps of material.

‘’...Aramis,’’ the omega said, unbuttoning his shirt carefully, ‘’and yours?’’

‘’Oz,’’ the boy grabbed the clothes off the floor and carried them over, ‘’Oz Mulloy. Or Ozi, whichever you prefer.’’

Aramis paused at his buttons, ‘’is that your real name?’’

Oz pulled a face, ‘’is Aramis your real name?’’

Aramis hesitated, ‘’no,’’ he admitted quietly, shrugging his shirt off, trying to ignore the freezing wind, ‘’I suppose it’s not.’’

But Oz wasn’t listening anymore. He stared, wide-eyed, at Aramis’ chest, his eyes catching on the bruises and finger marks, ‘’fuck, what...what happened to you?’’ he asked and he sounded frightened. Like a child.

Aramis quickly put his arms around himself, trembling from the cold. He closed his eyes, ‘’I don’t...I...’’

And then he started crying.

‘’Whoa, shit, shit, shit! Sorry, you don’t have to tell me!’’ Oz sounded panicked. He dumped the clothes at Aramis’ feet, ‘’come on, let’s...let’s get you dressed first, hey?’’ he put an awkward, but gentle, hand on Aramis’ bare shoulder, ‘’Aramis?’’

‘’Yes...’’ Aramis sniffled. His tears were making everything blurry and he wiped at them helplessly with his wrists. Oz pushed a black jumper with hastily sewn-on elbow patches into Aramis’ arms. Aramis pulled it on, then the massive coat Oz handed him, It finally got rid of the cold. Next were old sweatpants and boots that were a little small, but Aramis didn’t care. By the time Oz gathered up his academy uniform and ditched it in his bin bag, Aramis was crouching, sniffling softly.

Slowly, Oz came over and crouched down, too, peering at the other boy, ‘’hey, I don’t...know what happened to you, but...you can stay with me for tonight, okay?’’ Aramis raised his head, staring at Oz with wide, glassy eyes, ‘’a-actually,’’ Oz rubbed the back of his head, ‘’you can stick with me from now on, if you want. I don’t really like being by myself.’’

Aramis sniffled, ‘’yes,’’ he whispered, relieved. Even if Oz was just a kid, at least Aramis wouldn’t be alone, ‘’I don’t l-like being by m-myself, either,’’ he whispered, sniffling. What he wouldn’t give to have the other Hawthornes with him right then.

Oz grinned, ‘’good, then it’s settled!’’ he unzipped the sleeping bag and laid it out like a blanket, ‘’trust me, it’s not so bad here. The people are cool and you can find food if you know where to look, though usually not donuts,’’ he took Aramis’ hand, pulling him to his feet. He pulled off his hat and stuck it on Aramis’ head, making sure to tuck in his blue locks in as best as he could, hiding them, ‘’you should hide your hair; omegas have to hold their own around here a bit more than others, so it’s best to have a hat.’’

Aramis pulled the hat over his ears, ‘’thank you,’’ he whispered. The tears had finally stopped but probably only because Aramis felt too tired to cry anymore.

‘’Tomorrow, we’ll go to the Underbridge Games and I’ll show you everything,’’ Oz said and now he sounded excited. He was clearly glad to have found a companion, ‘’don’t worry, you’ll be fine, so don’t cry anymore.’’

Aramis just nodded, though he didn’t believe it.

They crawled onto the old blanket, putting the sleeping bag over them. For a while, Aramis couldn’t get to sleep, too cold and too scared and full of too many memories, though Oz was out like a light. After a while, the warmth from the kid and from Aramis made the sleeping bag warmer and Aramis’ eyes fluttered shut.

As the sun began rising over the council buildings in the distance, he finally fell asleep.

*~*~*

Dirk sat on the pillow, stewing in his own hate, refusing to touch the cakes, until Octavian closed his book with finality and rose, ‘’I think it’s time for bed,’’ he said, checking his watch.

Dirk’s heart-rate spiked. He rose on hesitant legs. This...this meant they’d have to do it, right? That was what he was expected to do. Even Radcliffe had said that he’d have to please Octavian. Dirk had been too busy being mad to think about what would happen tonight. He set his tea-cup on the table and followed Octavian out of the library, ‘’this is the bathroom,’’ Octavian said, pointing to one of the doors, ‘’there’s another one downstairs. This is my bedroom,’’ he gestured to another room, but didn’t stop. Dirk followed him, ‘’if you need anything, just give my door a knock. If I’m not here, then Radcliffe’s room is just downstairs, by the kitchen. And this,’’ he stopped at the last doors in the corridor and pushed them open, stepping back to let Dirk in, ‘’is your room.’’ Dirk remembered that a lot of alphas preferred their omegas to have separate rooms to them and relief flooded his heart. Octavian flicked the light on. The room wasn’t particularly big. The walls were painted blue and there was a huge window taking up half a wall. The bed was much bigger than Dirk’s bed at the academy, set with white and beige covers. There was a matching beige chest at the foot of the bed for Dirk’s things, of which he only had his uniform. There was a nightstand with a black lamp and nothing else. It felt like a room that no one had ever lived in before, ‘’do you like it?’’ Octavian asked, ‘’we can move things around, if you’d like.’’

Dirk kept his eyes on the bed rather than on his new alpha, ‘’it’s fine, sir.’’

‘’You must be tired,’’ Octavian said gently, ‘’I’ll leave you to settle in for tonight. Goodnight.’’

Dirk didn’t reply and, with a sigh, Octavian left the room.

Dirk didn’t bother taking his clothes off. He threw himself on the bed and hid his face in his pillow, stifling a scream of sheer frustration.

*~*~*

‘’Holy shit, this is amazing!’’ Kain breathed, staring at the sprawling white academy building, rising like a palace beyond the high, monitored walls.

Beside him, his uncle chuckled, ‘’keep the swearing to a minimum from now on, Kain, and don’t let any Hawthornes hear you. They’ll pick foul language right up, especially the little ones.’’

‘’Right,’’ Kain said, grinning giddily. He ran his hands through his golden hair, making sure it was slicked back properly. He’d just turned eighteen and, in the eyes of everyone, he was still a kid. He’d gelled his hair back for his first day on the job, trying to look older. Without his hair hanging in his face, his square jaw was more prominent, making him look like man that he was, ‘’I won’t disappoint you uncle. Thanks for getting me this job.’’

‘’Of course. You’re my favourite nephew, after all,’’ his uncle winked at him as they walked towards the side entrance together. They stopped by the doors and Kain’s uncle touched his shoulder to get his attention. The beta had been staring in awe at his smart, white uniform, ‘’before I give you your card, we have to go over a few rules.’’

‘’Right,’’ Kain said again, standing up straighter. He was very tall, anyway, and stockily built, but his uncle still towered over him, ‘’I’ve read the manual.’’

‘’These are some more...personal rules,’’ his uncle said, ‘’what do you know?’’

‘’As enforcers, we’re here to protect and look after the students,’’ Kain recited, ‘’we make sure nobody tries to harm them and we make sure the omegas keep to their schedules and curfews.’’

‘’Good,’’ his uncle nodded, ‘’usually, the students behave but there are a few that are...well, bratty. They don’t like the rules and they don’t appreciate what the Headmistress does for them. They’ll usually be punished with mild things – taken to the Headmistress’ office for a talking to, sent to bed early, put into the time-out room, that kind of thing. But,’’ his uncle reached into his belt and pulled out the taser. He pressed the button and blue electricity crackled between the two metal rods. Kain’s smile disappeared. He had that same taser at his belt but he thought it was for intruders, ‘’if they get violent or try to pull any stunts, sometimes we’re forced to use these.’’

‘’But,’’ Kain frowned, his blue eyes clouded with confusion, ‘’they’re just omegas. They’re defenceless.’’

‘’Not entirely. Some of them are quite wild and ill-mannered, and they might hurt their fellow omegas if they get angry. So,’’ his uncle clicked the button again and there was another electric crackle, ‘’don’t hesitate to use these in those moments. For the good of the collective.’’

Kain licked his bottom lips nervously. This hadn’t been in the job description. When he’d come out of school, he’d had no idea what to do with his life. He had no job and he still lived with his parents – he didn’t even have enough in savings to move out. And then his favourite uncle had offered to get him a job at his workplace, the prestigious Hawthorne Academy, and he’d become Kain’s favourite favourite uncle. Kain looked up at him now, at his sure smile, and smiled uncertainly himself. His uncle had been in his life since he’d been little, always the cool relative that bought him toys and played with him during family barbeques. He’d never led him astray and the whole family trusted him. Kain trusted him, and this was the job of a lifetime. He could be nothing but grateful, ‘’right. Thanks, uncle Lugh.’’

The enforcer clapped Kain on the shoulder, ‘’there’s a good lad. Here – your key-card. It works on most doors in the academy,’’ he handed it to his nephew.

All of Kain’s doubts disappeared as he held the plastic card in his big hands in awe. There was his picture – he looked like a military man – his ID number, and his name tag: Kain Lugh.

 Grinning, the newest member of the Hawthorne Academy team slipped his card into his pocket and entered the building.

*~*~*

‘’Is class 1 really gone?’’ Beatrice asked quietly. She seemed more muted this morning as she and the rest of the ten omegas that made up class 2 sat at their table for breakfast. The twelve year old cast the class 1 table, now pushed up against the wall, empty, with upset eyes.

‘’Don’t go crying,’’ Noa said softly. He didn’t exactly have time to deal with Beatrice or any of the younger kids that decided to burst into tears today or whatnot. The fact was – class 1 was gone. The preparation for alphas, the choosing ceremony, the ball...none of it had been a lie. Which meant it would happen again.

And class 2 was next.

Noa glanced at Beatrice. She’d hung her head over her plate, her white hair, bizarrely tipped with red, cascading onto her stripped skirt. She was only twelve so she was safe for at least a few more years. But Noa...Noa had just turned sixteen. He glanced down the class 2 table. There was 018 Hawthorne, Otto, with the most eye-fucking magenta hair Noa had ever seen. He’d just turned sixteen, too. Then, 022 Hawthorne, Olympia, with orange-yellow waist-long hair. She was fifteen but she’d turn sixteen before the next choosing ceremony. Everyone else in class 2 was far too young for that – Gena was fourteen; Roderick was thirteen; Aura, Victor, Beatrice and Ariel were all twelve; Elanthe was just eleven. Which meant that rather than thirteen, next year Headmistress Hawthorne would have only three omegas to sell. From now on, things would only get tougher. Noa, Otto and Olympia would be trained to be the most perfect omegas in the world so that they would fetch the highest price. Noa’s hand tightened on his fork. Why did he have to end up here, of all places? When he’d seen the beautiful building of the academy, he’d actually been relieved his shithole parents hadn’t sold him directly to an alpha – but any alpha would be easier to fight that the Head-Bitch herself.

Speaking of the Head-Bitch...

Hawthorne and the carers entered, all but the headmistress taking their seats at the head table; the Hawthornes rose, ‘’good morning, Headmistress,’’ the remaining classes chorused.

‘’Good morning, my dear Hawthornes,’’ Adelaide Hawthorne said with a pleasant smile, hands folded over the buttons of her blazer, ‘’yesterday’s ball was a tremendous success. I’m sure you will all miss your brothers and sisters from class 1 but don’t worry, they have gone to loving alphas in beautiful homes, as all of you will one day. There shall be some changes now that class 1 is gone,’’ she extended her hand to the left. Miss White handed her a piece of paper. Noa frowned; usually, it was Miss Valesca, the carer of class 1, in that seat. But she was gone.

‘’Let’s see,’’ Hawthorne scanned the piece of paper, then smiled at the class 2 table. Her eye lingered on Noa’s face and he quickly schooled his features into neutrality, ‘’now that class 1 has graduated, class 2 shall take their place during the walks on Saturday evening,’’ she said, ‘’there will also be some additional security measures implemented. Firstly, when the fire alarm goes off, all the doors won’t unlock anymore. Instead, there will be a meeting point on every floor where an enforcer will wait if the fire alarm goes off and they will lead you to the courtyard themselves. This is for your own safety and so no one from the outside that could mean you harm can sneak inside,’’ she gave them all a benevolent smile before continuing, ‘’the new fire alarms will be practiced three times every month until Christmas, so you all get used to them. Oh, speaking of enforcers!’’ she set the paper down and clapped. The two enforcers by the main doors opened them and a force in white marched in.

Noa’s eyes widened. In his year at the academy, he never counted more than two dozen enforcers at any given time, but here were at least, what? Thirty? Forty? The new enforcers marched in and stopped by the head table. Hawthorne gestured to them grandly, ‘’my darlings, these are the new security officers that will help enforce peace and safety in the academy. I trust you will be polite and welcoming to them.’’

Noa glanced over the omegas of class 2. Some of them looked vaguely frightened; enforcers were never a good sign. Noa looked to the abandoned class 1 table by the wall helplessly. Class 1 likely didn’t know who he was but he always looked to them for direction. There seemed to be so many strong characters in that class and their reactions to Hawthorne’s announcements told Noa how to approach different situations. But now, class 1 was gone and he was alone. Next to him, Beatrice slipped her hand into his. Noa nearly sighed; he was not only alone, but also a babysitter. He forced himself to give Beatrice’s hand a squeeze as he looked over the new enforcers. They were all big and burly, the strongest amongst the Betas in Stormview. Noa’s eyes snagged on the eyes of one of them and their gazes met. He was tall and broad-shouldered, though not as much as an alpha; his blue eyes and pale hair were dreadingly familiar. He stood next to Lugh, the cruellest enforcers in the academy, and the similarities between them were uncanny.

Noa glared at the enforcer, who blinked, surprised.

‘’Finally,’’ Hawthorne called out. Her piece of paper was back in her hand, ‘’I have an exciting announcement for the Hawthornes of class 2!’’ Noa felt the omegas around him shift uncomfortably. Nobody liked to be singled out. It usually meant trouble. Hawthorne smiled at them pleasantly, ‘’the ball was a big success and there are already so many lovely alphas eager to meet you! So, next year, at the choosing ceremony, it won’t be only the oldest of you – but all of you! Isn’t that exciting?’’

Noa’s stomach did a somersault and his eyes went instantly to Elanthe. Shy, quiet, eleven-year old Elanthe, dark skinned with astoundingly blonde hair fading into blue, still a little pudgy on her face from childhood...Noa’s breath fell softly from his lips. His hand slipped out of Beatrice’s. Surely not. Surely not children.

‘’The expectations for those a little younger in the class will be slightly different, of course,’’ Hawthorne continued calmly as if she hadn’t just announced that she’d be trafficking fucking children, ‘’your education and training will be completed by your alphas, so that you are exactly right for each individual. For those of you who are older, I expect you to be immaculate for next year’s choosing ceremony. Now, then,’’ she smiled, ‘’let’s sit down and have our breakfast!’’ there was a shuffle as the omegas took their seats.

Noa was in too much shock to sit down.

Hawthorne’s eyes zeroed in on him, on his borderline-ugly dark green hair, on his face, so smooth and sweet he passed for much younger than he was, and her teeth gritted, ‘’Idris, sit down, honey,’’ she said sweetly. Noa’s hands fisted at his sides. He wished there was a knife around that he could snatch up and launch at Hawthorne’s skull. As if reading his intention, Hawthorne’s eyes narrowed, ‘’020. Sit. Down. You just came out of isolation; unless you want to go right back there, do as you’re told.’’

Noa would happily go back to isolation. It was his safe space, somewhere quiet were he could think. But not right then. There were too many unknown factors that had just come into play. He had to feel out the situation. He couldn’t removed himself from it just yet.

So he sat down and ate his breakfast.

*~*~*

In the morning, things started looking a little less bleak, though not a lot. Aramis woke up early and then went back to sleep, too cold to wake himself up. As he drifted off, half-asleep already, he wondered when Magnus would start cluttering around, like he always did before the wake-up bells went off. He woke up in the afternoon to find Oz eating cold beans out of a can. Aramis sat up sharply, the unzipped sleeping bag falling off him, ‘’y-you’re an omega!’’ he spluttered, astounded.

In the dark of night, it had been impossible to tell. Now, Aramis could take a good look at Oz, who gaze him a puzzled look as he chewed a mouth-full of beans. It was impossible to tell how skinny he was because he wore a too-big mustard-yellow hoodies under an oversized, scuffed jacket. His eyes were a peculiar reddish-brown, his nose peppered with freckles and a rounded chin that didn’t even have a stubble yet. His hair was cropped so short you could barely tell by the strange sheen that it had to it, but his hair was blue. Royal blue, going by the colour of Oz’s eyebrows. But the most eye-catching thing about the boy was the scar. It stretched, jagged and horrible, from under his eye to the corner of his mouth, completely running his face. Oz didn’t seem to mind Aramis staring, ‘’yeah?’’ he said, as if that much was obvious.

Aramis quickly looked away, feeling terrible for staring, ‘’u-um...will you be alright without the hat?’’ he asked, patting the black cap now on his own pale blue hair.

‘’Oh, yeah, everyone around here knows not to mess with me,’’ Oz gave him a broad grin, showing off his braces. He dug around in his pocket and produced another can of beans, tossing it at Aramis, ‘’here. Oh, and I swiped this for you.’’

Aramis narrowly avoided getting hit in the head with a small travel kit. He blinked at the tiny toothpaste, toothbrush and miniature bottles of shower gel and shampoo, ‘’for...me?’’

Oz shrugged, looking a bit embarrassed. He scraped the bottom of his can with his metal spoon, ‘’you just...looked so sad yesterday and you sound all posh and shit...I figured you’d like something like this.’’

Without meaning to, Aramis started crying again. No one had ever bothered giving him anything, much less stealing for him. He clutched the set to his chest, ‘’t-t-thank you...’’ he blubbered.

Oz gaped, ‘’god, you’re a mess, aren’t you?’’

‘’S-sorry,’’ Aramis sobbed out.

He heard the scrape of feet and then Oz knelt down in front of him, taking the can. He produced a small pocket knife and expertly took the metal top off the can, ‘’here, eat. You must be starving.’’

Aramis put his set down gently and took the can from Oz. He never thought he’d eat something so vile, but he’d barely had any food in him for the past two days, save for that donut and breakfast yesterday, and so he fell on the beans like a starving man. He tipped the can back like soup, swallowing it down in big gulps and trying to ignore the taste. Once he had the first half of the can down, he set it down, wiping his mouth and then the corners of his eyes, ‘’you’re very nice,’’ he sniffled, calming down.

Oz burst out laughing, ‘’nice? Jeez, no one has ever called me nice before,’’ he smiled, ‘’I’m just looking out for you, like I promised. Say what you will but us folks with nowhere to go can be pretty loyal,’’ he got up, ‘’anyway, eat up. The Underbridge Games will be starting soon.’’

An hour or so later they were walking back towards the underpass Aramis had passed last night. Out of nowhere, as casually as possible, Oz asked, ‘’you’re on the run, right?’’

Aramis looked down at the boy, eyes lingering on his scar, ‘’w-well...’’

‘’It’s best not to use your name, then,’’ Oz said pointedly, hands in pockets, ‘’You got a nickname?’’

‘’Not...really...’’

Oz thought about it, ‘’how about ‘Ari’? It’s similar to Aramis, afterall.’’

‘’Ari?’’ Aramis thought about it. It was certainly nothing the Headmistress would ever call any of her Hawthornes. It was short and rough; not like an omega’s name at all, ‘’I like Ari,’’ he said quietly.

‘’Cool! If anyone asks, just introduce yourself as that – and keep your hat low,’’ Oz instructed. Aramis obediently tugged his hat down over his brows, ‘’oh, and I did it myself.’’

Aramis blinked, ‘’what?’’

Oz pointed to his scar, ‘’you keep staring, so I figured I’d tell ya. I did it myself.’’

Aramis stopped abruptly, his borrowed shoes scuffing in the dirt path. He stared at Oz with wide, scared eyes. Was he some kind of psychopath? What kind of person did that to themselves!? Seeing his look, Oz laughed awkwardly, scratching his other cheek, ‘’I’m an omega, you know. Even once I shaved my head, I was still...’’ he shrugged and said resentfully, ‘’pretty and all that. Once I did this,’’ he tapped his scar, ‘’a lot of people lost interest. Alphas especially. A lot of others figured I’m not to be messed with, so...’’ he shrugged again.

Aramis looked away, ashamed. This morning had been the first one he hadn’t spent putting creams and mositurisers on his face to make himself porcelain perfect. His face and his hair, his beauty, was a curse. The curse of every omega. And Oz had broken that curse, ‘’I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have stared, o-or...’’

‘’It’s fine.’’

Aramis looked to Oz again, feeling his heart stir with sadness, ‘’but you’re so little,’’ he uttered, before he could stop himself.

Oz looked taken aback. Then, he threw his head back and laughed. It was a warm, unrestrained sound that made Aramis want to smile, too, ‘’little my ass! I could shank anyone here!’’ he chortled.

Aramis huffed, ‘’right.’’

Still chuckling, Oz began walking again. Aramis fell in step with him. He didn’t want to admit it, but he felt safe with Oz by his side, even though he was just a tiny thirteen year old. At least he wasn’t alone. That gave him courage. And, maybe, when people came for Aramis, Oz could ‘shank’ them all, whatever that meant.

The sun was setting rapidly and the underpass was bustling with life as the sky turned purple and red. The tents and sleeping spots had all been moved to the sides, and, where there hadn’t been any the night before, now stalls, wooden and plastic tables, chairs and blankets had been laid out. At each one, a game was played. There were scuffed cards, mismatched poker chips, old board games, drinking contests, arm wrestling...there even seemed to be things like fortune telling and palm reading. Stacks of bills and coins were being played for – the difference between supper and going to sleep with an empty stomach for the people who lived in the underpass. There was such a crowd here it almost fell like a party. They stood around with cheap beers in their hands, cigarettes between their fingers. Some didn’t seem to be homeless at all – they were cleaner, less sure. Probably kids from the council blocks behind the factories.

‘’There are the games?’’ Aramis breathed. He was petrified, but also fascinated. He’d never heard of a place like this, much less been in one. It was everything Hawthorne told them the world was like for untrained omegas without alphas and it seemed dangerous and uncertain, yes, but there was something about it that just...made Aramis want to step into it.

‘’Yeah,’’ Oz zipped up his jacket, ‘’well, I’m off. I’m working the poker table tonight.’’

In an instant, panic gripped Aramis’ throat. He reached out, grabbing Oz’s arms, ‘’y-y-you’re going?’’

Oz frowned, ‘’yeah, just for a few hours. Walk around, mingle with people, have fun. If you bat your eyelashes, maybe someone will give you a beer-‘’

‘’No!’’ Aramis blurted. Suddenly, the Underbridge Games seemed so much more dangerous, ‘’no, please, d-don’t...’’ his breath was coming out fast, panicked.

Oz seemed to panic, too. He put his hands on Aramis’ elbows, ‘’whoa, okay, okay...just breathe, dude. Breathe, Ari, yeah?’’ Aramis nodded breathlessly, inhaling deeply and trying to calm down, ‘’just...stick by me, okay? You can come work the poker table with me. I’ll teach you the ropes.’’

At the sound of that, relief Aramis’ system. He didn’t think he could be alone again, not for a while, ‘’t-thank you.’’

Oz nodded, giving him an awkward but reassuring smile, ‘’jeez, you’re a handful,’’ he said, but his smile grew as he said so. He lead Aramis into the Underbridge Games. Thankfully, no one paid them any attention, too immersed in their games. A few of the homeless people called out to Oz in greeting and only then did their eyes linger on Aramis. Aramis resisted the urge to grab Oz’s jacket and hold on tight.

They made it over to the poker table. A scruffy looking girl, not much older than Aramis, had been officiating the game, ‘’just a sec, Ozi,’’ she said, ‘’then this table is all yours.’’

‘’Cheers,’’ Oz said.

As they waited for the game to end, Aramis looked around. Deeper into the Underbridge Games, things got more chaotic. Aramis felt like he was in a merry-go-round with people constantly moving around him. His eyes searched desperately for something to concentrate on.

And then he found that thing.

There was a boy leaning against one of the columns of the underpass. He wore a dark hoodie, the hood drawn over his dark hair, a cigarette in his hand. His startling blue eyes were already pinned on Aramis when he looked. The boy didn’t look away when caught. Instead, he blew smoke out slowly, his eyes scarily intense, even from such a distance. Aramis quickly turned away, heart beating fast. He stared at Oz, deeming him the only safe option.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when, suddenly, the dark haired boy was there.

He was only half a head taller than Aramis, not as tall as most alphas, but his presence was astounding. No wonder Aramis’ eyes had found him in the crowd. He’d pulled his hood down, revealing black hair that was shaved on the sides and a silver earring dangling from one ear. It suited him. His blue eyes were still pinned on Aramis. The omega fought back a shiver, ‘’yo, Ozi,’’ his voice was deep and warm and sensual. The shiver went up Aramis’ spine without permission, ‘’whose your friend?’’

Oz turned, surprised, and beamed, ‘’Jem! Haven’t seen you around lately,’’ they clasped hands briefly, Jem’s eyes finally leaving Aramis, ‘’you gonna play tonight?’’

Jem shrugged, ‘’we’ll see how I like my odds,’’ he said. Aramis noticed that his canines were slightly pointed, like fangs, giving him a feral look. His eyes shifted back to Aramis and the omega looked away quickly, ‘’well? You got a name?’’

‘’A-Ari, sir,’’ Aramis forced himself to say. There was something about this alpha that made him want to run as fast as he could and at the same time...stay.

Jem chuckled, but there was an edge to it, ‘’sir, hm?’’ he turned to Ozi, raising an eyebrow, ‘’where did you find him?’’

‘’Just around,’’ Oz said vaguely.

‘’Rumour has it,’’ Jem stepped closer to them, lowering his voice, and Aramis automatically took a half-step behind Ozi, his heart pounding in his chest, ‘’that there’s been an omega that ran off from Hawthorne Academy. Everyone’s lookin’ for them. You wouldn’t know anything about that, Oz, would you?’’

‘’Nope,’’ Oz said without missing a beat.

Aramis could feel Jem’s eyes burning holes into his head, ‘’and you wouldn’t be getting yourself into trouble, right, kiddo?’’

‘’Me? Never!’’ Oz said with a snort.

‘’Hmm...’’ Jem said again. And then, without a warning, his fingers flashed in Aramis’ line of vision, reaching for the hat hiding his hair.

Aramis took a sharp step back, ‘’I’d rather you didn’t touch me, sir,’’ he said, quietly but viciously. His fight or flight instinct spiked. Adrenaline made his palms tingle. He was an alpha, another alpha that wanted to hurt him...

Jem reached out anyway and tugged the hat down, over Aramis’ brows, which the omega hadn’t even realised were exposed. When Aramis looked at Jem sharply, the boy was wholly serious even as he said lightly, ‘’teach him a few swear words. Maybe he won’t be so obvious then.’’

Aramis swallowed thickly with nerves but, at that, Jem turned around and walked off, digging out his cigarettes. Aramis exhaled shakily just as Oz grabbed his wrist and dragged him away, behind one of the columns, ‘’are you seriously from the academy?’’ he hissed.

Aramis’ mind reeled. The runaway omega...surely Hawthorne hadn’t reported him. Then, she’d be in danger of her dealings with the brothel being revealed. No. The runaway omega had to be Brodie, ‘’no,’’ he lied finally, ‘’I don’t even know where the academy is. I’m new to the city.’’

Oz didn’t look like he believed him, ‘’you had a weird uniform on when I found you.’’

‘’I-it was from the brothel,’’ Aramis said quickly. He’d rarely lied but it came shockingly easy to him, ‘’a theme night. Students and...all that.’’

Oz’s eyebrows went up, ‘’you ran off from a brothel?’’

Aramis nodded, ‘’a high-end one. I was never going to pay off my debt, so...’’ in a roundabout way, it was true.

Oz sighed, ‘’okay. Right. Sorry I asked,’’ he put a surprisingly gentle hand on Aramis’ arm, ‘’is that why you’re so...jumpy? And you cry a lot?’’

‘’Yes,’’ Aramis said quickly. It was true, in a sense. He’d been paid for. He’d been used like a whore. He just wasn’t telling Oz everything – but he didn’t have to know. Nobody had to know. Aramis would carry that shame to the grave.

Oz gave him a reassuring smile and took his hand, ‘’come – let me teach you about the wonderful world of poker, son!’’