Page 20 of The Runaway
“I saw an alpha burn once,” Connor said, after a pause. “When the barn burned down. He ran out of the fire, screaming and spreading flames everywhere. And I felt sorry for him at the time. And then afterwards, I couldn’t quite figure out why. Maybe he deserved it, but… it still seemed a terrible way to die.”
“I’m not sure there are any really good ways to die,” Gabriel said. “Though I’d agree that some are probably worse than others.”
“If my master ever finds me, he’ll kill me,” Connor said, a simple statement of fact that nonetheless carried a huge weight of trepidation. “I don’t want to die.” His voice wavered on the last word, and Gabriel heard a faint sniffle.
“I won’t let that happen,” he said, knowing the promise was unbearably foolish. In all likelihood, there would be little he could do to prevent it.
Connor gave a faint chuckle. “How will you stop it?”
“I don’t know.” Gabriel turned his head, meeting Connor’s gaze in the darkness. “But I’m not going to just stand by and do nothing.”
A long silence followed, while Gabriel wondered what Connor was thinking. Did he believe him? Did he think it was just pretty lies? Or did he know, as Gabriel did, that such promises were little more than fanciful imaginings that sooner or later would crumble under the weight of reality?
“I want to believe you,” Connor said eventually. “You’re better than most of the alphas I’ve met. But I’ve seen the way the world works. In the end, everyone’s just in it for themselves.”
Gabriel wanted to disagree. There were good men here, on this estate, who were trying to make the world a better place. But outside their tiny sphere of influence, the world went on as it always had.
“I’m going back to bed now,” Connor said, standing up. “Thank you for letting me stay. I hope you get some sleep.” He opened the kitchen door, disappearing inside, then closed it gently behind himself. And with his absence, Gabriel felt more alone than he had since before he’d left the army.
???
Daylight brought relief from the nightmares, but not from the dark thoughts swirling in Gabriel’s mind. After his conversation with Connor, he’d gone back to bed, lying awake for hours until exhaustion had finally dragged him back into sleep. He’d dreamed, but the dreams were vague and insubstantial, and when he woke in the morning, he was relieved to find he couldn’t quite remember any of them.
The rain had let up, so after breakfast, he headed back out to the pigsty, burning off restless energy in hard work. He avoided the omegas, and Connor in particular. What the hell had he been thinking, unloading his demons onto the poor lad in the middle of the night? The whole point of keeping Connor here had been to reassure him, to help him recover, and to try and persuade him that there were decent and compassionate alphas in the world.
He’d well and truly made a mess of that idea. Promises of salvation aside, he’d failed to come up with a single thing he could do to help Connor that would actually make a difference. As Antoine had rightly pointed out, he was legally owned by another estate. And as much as Gabriel might wish it otherwise, the law was not on their side with regards to providing him with a secure and stable future. The best they could hope to do was to keep Connor hidden for as long as possible and hope that either his master gave up looking for him or eventually presumed he was dead. But something told Gabriel that neither option was going to work for them in the long run.
???
“We need a full bed of straw across the entire floor,” Cirroc announced to the team of omegas waiting patiently for instructions at the entrance to the barn. “Claude, Henry, I want you to pull off these planks and replace them. There are cracks here that will let the snow in and make the straw damp. Adalene and Michelle, you two set up the partition at the far end and put up some perches. We’ll house the chickens up that end. And watch out for the kittens. They like to play in the straw and I don’t want either of them getting stabbed with a pitchfork. Any questions?”
Connor, along with the rest of the omegas, shook his head. Their task for the day was to set up the barn in preparation to house the sheep and chickens for the winter. But the announcement about the kittens came as a surprise. He waited until Cirroc had left, plenty of other responsibilities calling him away, then turned to Helen. “You have kittens here?” he asked, hoping he sounded surprised, rather than eager. Back on his old estate, a stray cat had dared to have kittens in the corner of the barn, and when the master of the house had found out, he’d promptly ordered the litter caught and drowned.
“Two of them,” Helen said, sounding pleased. “There are three farm cats. They do a grand job of keeping the mice and rats at bay. One of them had two kittens back in spring. They’re both black. Gorgeous little things. Not that they’re really kittens anymore. They’re about six months old, and they’ve already started catching mice, but they do like to get into mischief.” Connor nodded and set about his work, but resolved to keep an eye out for the elusive cats.
The morning passed without incident. A huge, round bale of straw had been dragged into the centre of the barn, and the omegas worked diligently to spread it out, making sure to pad the corners and along the walls. The smell of the straw was refreshing, earthy and sweet, with no hint of mould anywhere in the bale. His old masters could have taken some lessons from the Calvets, Connor decided. Back there, half-hearted effort and carelessness had often led to crops going bad or stocks of hay beginning to rot long before they were used in the winter months. Then again, he supposed it was wishful thinking on the alphas’ part to expect that the omegas would care whether the crop survived, when they’d likely be beaten no matter the outcome. For a long time, he’d simply assumed that that was the way of life, and that wealth was more a matter of luck than anything else. But this estate was thriving, the omegas working eagerly, cheerful jokes and banter making the hours pass more quickly. It was enlightening and unsettling at the same time.
As it was nearing midday, he heard a whoop from the far end of the barn and turned to see Adalene and Michelle standing with their hands on their hips, grins of satisfaction on their faces. “Take a look at that,” Michelle called, turning to face the rest of them. “One chicken coop, all set up and ready to go. We’ll have the happiest chickens in the world, come December. Did you ever see a more beautiful sight?”
“Well, now that you’ve finished, you can come and give the rest of us a hand,” Max retorted. “Stop gloating over your bloody work and put your back into it!” But to Connor’s surprise, the words were accompanied by a wide grin, rather than the dark scowl he’d been expecting. No one back home would ever have dared boast about completing a job, knowing their efforts would only ever be met with insults and derision.
“You mean you haven’t finished yet?” Michelle asked, in mock surprise. “What have you been doing with yourselves all morning?”
“Oh, you can talk,” Henry piped up. “Because your eighth of the barn is just as much work as the whole of the rest of it?”
“It might have been a smaller job,” Michelle said, “but what’s your excuse? You and Claude only had to replace a couple of planks. You haven’t managed to get that done yet?” As with the rest of the omegas, there was still a smile on her face. The words were cutting, but the atmosphere was friendly. It was all entirely odd.
“You’re just jealous because you can’t read fucking numbers,” Henry called back. He held up a long, leather tape. “See this? It’s called a measuring tape. It’s got numbers on it. So it’s not just a case of hammering a few planks into place. It’s all about making sure you’re got the right fit.”
“Stick it up your ass,” Helen joined in. “You can read, but you can’t fucking count.”
“I can count,” Henry said indignantly.
Helen snorted. “Prove it then. If I’ve got twenty-three chickens and they lay five eggs each per week, how many eggs will I have by the end of a week?”
The look on Henry’s face was comical as he tried to work out the answer. In the end, he gave up. “A lot of fucking eggs, you damn wench,” he said with a laugh. “What difference does it make?”
Beside Connor, Nicole had dissolved into giggles, while Adalene was watching the whole exchange with a smirk.