Page 32 of The Night Movers: Season One

Ridley had never felt more conspicuous in his life.

They’d gone through a room full of clothes they kept for the rescued omegas who needed them, and he’d managed to find a pair of gray sweatpants that had tiny holes throughout, like moths had gotten to them.

He’d also found a small hot pink hoodie with a cat on it that didn’t look quite as worn as everything else.

It hadn’t seemed like a big deal at the time, but now, Ridley felt like he stood under a spotlight.

The night market was equal parts carnival sideshow and fashion show, which made for a dizzying mix of people. In any other circumstance, Ridley would have loved it. He would have loved people watching. But not now. Not knowing what it all represented.

The market itself was an underground abandoned mall built in an old subway station, the train tracks bisecting the main floor. Three stories up, the glass ceiling remained, but the panes had been covered over by dirt and grime, causing the sun to cast strange shadows over the ground below.

The walls and columns were concrete, but vegetation had overtaken much of it, only leaving the occasional bare wall in view.

What Ridley could see was covered in water stains and yellowed from age.

Weeds grew between marble floor tiles and someone had even turned the large fountain in the center into a planter.

Ridley couldn’t help but wonder if the plants made the air quality better or if he was inhaling black mold. All around them, people talked in low murmurs. Unlike the morning markets where he and Ren had gotten their food, there was nobody smiling, nobody laughing.

People huddled together, shoulders hunched inwards. Maybe the happy people were inside the shops that lined the three floors, but Ridley wouldn’t know because the windows were all blacked out, just like the glass panes of the elevators. It was a mystery Ridley didn’t mind never solving.

Before they’d entered, Titus had tugged Ridley’s hood up, pulling it so far it almost covered his eyes.

Then he’d added a black mask for good measure.

Titus had grunted his approval. But hiding his face didn’t stop people from narrowing their eyes at him when they passed.

They looked him up and down, noses wrinkling in disgust. Ridley didn’t know if it was his unfashionable clothes or just that they could smell he was an omega.

Their looks always changed whenever they saw Titus, though.

At first, it was amusing, watching those alphas who glared at him instantly drop their gaze and cower away.

But when everyone seemed to do it, a tiny sliver of unease burrowed into his side.

Who was his mate, anyway? Why did they all act as though making eye contact might turn them to stone? Was Titus really so feared? If so, why?

Ridley itched to ask, but knew Titus wouldn’t answer him.

Instead, he found himself passing the time by noting the differences in those who moved through the night market.

Diesel had assured Ridley that it was a completely different place at night, but it was hard to believe.

How much of a difference could a few hours make?

There were several distinct styles in the market.

Alphas in dark power suits. Alphas in colorful suits.

Alphas who dressed like Titus in clothes the street racers often wore—baggy black tech pants that flared wide then tapered into heavy boots, compression shirts beneath leather jackets, masks that ranged from simple ones like Ridley’s to elaborate ones that allowed for total anonymity, like the pack had worn the night their worlds first collided.

The alphas all walked with a confidence Ridley found disorienting.

Some were alone, carrying only backpacks or bags or nothing at all.

But many of them held leashes, pulling along whatever omega was unlucky enough to get trapped into being their pets.

Some of the omegas were dressed to the nines, outfits crisp, makeup impeccable, leashes covered in shiny stones.

They walked with their chins up, expressions smug, a strut in their stride.

They clearly thought they were somehow above the other omegas, which seemed ridiculous. Even pedigree dogs still required a leash. But maybe it was harder to see themselves as unwilling participants when they were getting something out of the arrangement, even if that was only food and shelter.

The other omegas turned Ridley’s stomach.

They walked with their eyes cast to the floor, five steps behind their alphas, their collars often lined inside with sharp metal that left scars on their skin.

If the other omegas were pampered pedigree dogs then these omegas were shelter dogs, beaten and weary.

Their alphas often yanked on their leashes just to watch them stumble, just to have an excuse to belittle them.

Some of them were dressed in rags. Literally.

Others wore clothing that barely covered their bodies, like they were there for others to ogle and use as they saw fit.

Some wore the same white shirt and pants Ridley had on when they’d kidnapped him from the facility.

He’d expected the collars, the leashes. He hadn’t expected the muzzles.

Like the clothes, they ran the gamut. Some of them looked like a metal veil over their mouths, but most of them looked like something out of a horror movie.

At first, Ridley had believed them to be a simple black mask made of leather.

Until he’d watched an alpha remove it to force-feed his omega an entire bottle of water, letting it pour down their chest.

That was when he saw them—the permanent indentations from the mask’s seams, the shiny scars at the corners of their mouths, the metal contraption hidden by the leather that shoved down the omega’s tongue, keeping them from speaking.

“What the fuck?” Ridley whispered, earning a sharp glare from a passing alpha.

Titus gave him an exasperated look. “Keep your mouth shut until we get where we’re going.”

He was tempted to tell him to fuck off, but the lingering image of that muzzle was enough to keep him silent.

At least, for now. They walked up the broken escalator, stopping at the second floor, making a left, then a right, stopping two storefronts down.

Like the other stores, the glass was blacked out, but there was a hand painted sign that said open in neon orange.

Titus pulled the door open, then gently pushed Ridley inside. His eyes went wide. As expected, it was a clothing store. Sort of. A dozen circular racks dotted the floor, with what Ridley could only describe as…scraps of outfits hanging from hangers.

On the mannequins, the outfits made slightly more sense. Leather harnesses over a black bra. A silver chest plate that looked like a human ribcage. Was this what Diesel had meant by omega fashion? Ridley could never wear anything like that…not even in the bedroom.

His whole body flushed. Okay, well, maybe in the bedroom.

He opened his mouth to tell Titus he would not be wearing anything from this store, but before he could, a man who looked to be in his mid-forties threw open the garish neon green curtains. Ridley blinked at him, eyes wide. The man stopped as well, the two of them taking each other in.

He wore a black skin-tight, see-through shirt with lace roses, tucked into leather pants that sat low on his hips, accentuating his very narrow frame.

He had warm brown skin with a barely-there beard and close-cropped moss-green hair he wore in a bowl cut that would have looked stupid on anyone else.

Ridley didn’t know whether he should look at the boots that buckled all the way to his knees with the three-inch platform, or the strange curved metal pieces that jutted from his snakebite piercings to curl over his chin.

When Ridley finally tore his gaze away, so did the other man. He looked at Titus, an obvious question written all over his quizzical expression.

“Who have we here?” he asked breezily, despite the sudden tension in his shoulders.

Titus reached up and yanked Ridley’s hood off, shoving him roughly towards the man. “Linus, this is Ridley. Ridley, meet Linus.”

Linus’s piercing brown eyes examined Ridley from top to bottom, perfectly manicured brows rising when he reached his neck. “Who did…”

Linus let his finger wiggle in the direction of Ridley’s throat.

“Me,” Titus said gruffly, his tone letting the other man know he wasn’t interested in questions.

The other man seemed wholly uninterested in what Titus wanted. “You? You claimed him? You ?”

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” Titus snapped.

Linus sniffed the air, frowning. “He’s not pregnant. What did you do? Do the others know?”

Ridley frowned. Surely, this man had to know that the pack had caused the other mark on his neck.

“You can see they approved,” Titus mumbled.

“Not them,” Linus said, dropping his voice to a menacing hiss. “The others. In the network.”

The network? “Wait, does that mean you’re also part of the…” He let his words die, realizing that if he wasn’t a part of it, he’d be outing Titus and the pack. He swayed closer to Linus, attempting to catch a scent.

Linus chuckled. “Don’t bother, darling. I’m not an alpha or an omega. Just a nosey beta.”

A beta? Down there? Why? Betas got to live free of all this shit. Why would anyone put themselves in this world if they didn’t have to ?

“Long and tragic story, lovey,” he said with a wistful sigh. He turned his attention back to Titus. “What is it you want?”

“He needs everything. Clothes. Shoes. Whatever else omegas need. For day and night,” Titus barked.

Linus blinked at him, seemingly stymied. Finally, he narrowed his gaze, hand on his hip. “Budget?”

Titus scoffed. “No budget. Give him whatever he wants but don’t let him embarrass me.”

Ridley snorted, rolling his eyes.