Page 60 of The Night Movers: Season One

The scent of bacon dragged Ridley from his sleep, his stomach growling loudly.

Was he dreaming? Hallucinating? He cracked his eyes open to find a strip of meat dangling just over the tip of his nose almost threateningly.

He frowned, looking around. He was no longer in Steele’s bed but his own. When had Steele carried him back?

Oh, well. He’d rather spend his morning with Rain, anyway.

Ridley stretched, cataloging every ache and pain in his body after last night.

His joints popped loudly, a high-pitched sound escaping with his effort to stretch every muscle and tendon at once.

Rain giggled at the sound, pulling his hand back to allow Ridley to wrestle himself into a sitting position.

Once he was upright, he opened up obediently for Rain to pop the bacon into his mouth.

He moaned in ecstasy, eyes closed so he could savor the salty sweetness for as long as possible.

Ridley had only had bacon twice in his life, but he could confidently say it was better than sex.

“Are you a wizard or something?” Ridley teased as he chewed. “Did you magic yourself something to eat?”

Rain flushed, smiling shyly as he shook his head, stuffing his mouth with a large piece of bread drenched in butter and some kind of red jelly.

Ridley huffed a quiet laugh as he watched Rain attempt to chew the food now stored in his puffed-out cheeks.

He looked like the squirrels that used to exist back in the day.

“Are you not talking to me today?” Ridley asked once the boy swallowed, nudging him softly with his shoulder.

Rain shrugged, his voice just above a whisper as he said, “I don’t know when I’m allowed to speak and when I’m not.”

His words pierced Ridley’s soul. He would never say his life had been easy.

Like most people living in the district, he’d grown up with nothing, living on meager government rations and the occasional rat or rodent dumb enough to show themselves in their presence.

But he’d never lived as someone else’s property.

He’d never had his life dictated by others’ whims. Considering everything Rain had endured, he was shockingly resilient.

Ridley just wanted him to have some happiness.

“If we’re in here, you can talk to me whenever you want. Out there”—Ridley gestured vaguely—“it’s just better to let them do the talking…or so they tell me.”

Rain nodded, then offered Ridley a bite of his other piece of bread, smiling when Ridley made another happy sound.

The jam was made of raspberries, and the sweetness made him a little dizzy.

When he finished chewing, he inspected the rest of the food on the tray before them, noting a pile of scrambled eggs, more bacon, oatmeal—Ridley’s usual meal—and fruit.

Actual fruit.

How rich were these alphas? Clothes and jewelry were one thing, but eggs?

Meat? Fruit? Vegetables? Clean water? Those were rarer than any gem or precious metal.

The oligarchs hoarded those things; they deliberately made it so that food only grew on their lands, tended by their servants, the seeds kept hidden in safes like stacks of cash.

They’d turned food and water into luxury items years ago, then priced them as such, ensuring the end of the middle class and the return of peasants and indentured servitude.

In the beginning, they’d allowed them all a limited supply of fruits and vegetables, but they’d genetically modified them so that there were no seeds, making sure they couldn’t grow their own.

Now, the 0.001% lived behind sky-high walls covered in razor wire, while the rest lived on only what the government allotted them.

Monthly rations of rice, potato flakes, hot cereals…

protein supplements that made up for the nutrients their food lacked.

They would have stopped feeding them entirely—would have let them die off like they did the weak, the elderly, the infirm—but they needed someone to do the labor.

They needed them just well enough to slave in the heat, but not well enough to revolt.

They were shockingly precise in their evil.

They didn’t even feel bad about it. They’d bred what little humanity existed in that class away long before the old U.S.

fell. The oligarchs were sociopaths. They believed that the poor were parasites, sucking away their resources, but it was really the other way around.

They just didn’t know because they’d made capitalism their religion and they killed in its name without remorse.

Omegas like Ridley were only good enough to clean their houses, cook their meals, raise their children.

Even poor alphas were considered nothing more than animals, their strength used to ease the lives of the rich.

Which was why Ridley didn’t understand how Titus and the others had access to so much.

Money was one thing. He saw the way those betas had thrown cash at them.

But where were they getting their food? How did they have access to clean water?

Hot water? Electricity down here in this abandoned hotel?

It couldn’t be bartering. Could it? If so, what the fuck were they trading worthy of all this?

“They must really like you,” Ridley said with a gentle smile. “Nobody offered me this kind of food when I arrived.”

Rain blushed. “Jensen brought it.” When Ridley gave him a knowing look, he hurried to add, “He said it was for both of us.”

Ridley grinned. “Oh? Is that why my pretty little pet is so giggly?” he teased. “Jensen brought you a courting gift?”

Rain flushed from his neck to the roots of his hair. “No,” he cried. “I—He’s just nice.”

“To you,” Ridley finished.

Rain’s eyes went wide. “Is he not nice to you?”

Ridley opened his mouth to say he was kidding, then thought about it.

Jensen did seem pretty nice, but he didn’t really know any of them.

The others had made an effort to get to know Ridley, but Jensen and Ryker stuck close together.

They both seemed similar in temperament and interests.

They were both deep thinkers. Maybe they had a thing with each other?

Alpha-alpha couples existed, but they were rare. Oftentimes, they spent too much time fighting for dominance.

But Jensen and Ryker were both freakishly level-headed. It was as hot as it was unusual.

“He’s actually really nice,” Ridley finally confirmed, watching the tension bleed from Rain at that.

They fell silent after that, opting to spend their time enjoying their surprise breakfast rather than wasting it talking about alphas. They ignored the provided wooden forks and spoons, opting to feed each other with their hands.

They ate until there was nothing left, both of them staring forlornly at the now empty tray.

Ridley contemplated licking the plate clean, but then thought better of it.

Only when he got to his feet did he note that Steele had dressed him in one of his oversized button-down shirts and nothing else.

What had happened to his clothes from last night?

What had he even been wearing last night?

He set the tray on the dresser, flushing as flashes of the previous evening returned in bits and pieces. He’d been so desperate, so clingy, begging and pleading for Steele’s attention. For his pups. Oh, god. That was so embarrassing. Though, it was hot in the moment.

Did the others know? Had Jensen smelled Steele all over him?

Had he been jealous, or had he just turned all his attention to the new omega in the room?

Ridley’s mood soured a bit at that, though he really had no right to be jealous.

He wanted Rain to be happy. He wouldn’t even mind Rain being happy with Jensen.

He just wanted to be happy with Rain and Jensen, too. Did that make him selfish?

He had just turned to return to the bed—wondering if Rain would be down for a little light make-out session—when Sugar and Diesel entered without knocking.

The moment Ridley stopped, Diesel’s arm immediately snaked around him, pulling him close in one smooth motion, giving him a filthy kiss as his hand slid under Steele’s shirt to grope his ass. Ridley whimpered, kissing him back.

When he released him, Ridley floated towards Sugar without thought, bees buzzing in his belly as the taller alpha’s hands gripped his thighs, lifting him into his arms to make it easier for Ridley to kiss him.

Once more, Ridley couldn’t help but notice their differences.

Diesel kissed like Ridley was his favorite indulgence, a decadent dessert to be gobbled up.

Sugar kissed Ridley like he owned him, like he had a right to take whatever he wanted.

Ridley supposed Sugar did own him.

They all did.

Would Sugar fuck him with that same lazy possession? He was dying to find out.

He had to force the thought back before he started getting wet. When Sugar set him back on his feet, Diesel said, “Get dressed, Strawberry. You too, Petal.”

Dressed? Were they going back to the arena? What time was it? The problem with living underground was this constant sense of losing time.

“Where are we going?” Ridley asked before he could stop himself.

Sugar fixed him with a flat stare, probably for Rain’s benefit. He hoped. “We have a meeting. Make sure you both look presentable. Day looks. No white. Wear your collar. Find something collar-adjacent for your pretty new pet. We don’t want people thinking he’s for sale.”

“For sale?” Ridley echoed, startled.

“Mm,” Sugar said, offering no more explanation.

“What’s happening? Where’s Titus? Where are we going?” Ridley asked, peppering them with questions as he moved to hover closer to Rain.