Page 7 of The Runaway

Dante crouched down again, then went so far as to actually sit on the floor. Why weren’t they just dragging the crates out of the way and hauling him out of there? But it made no difference. He was going to be in a world of trouble, either way. Was there any point in delaying the inevitable?

“I’m Dante,” Dante said, keeping his expression calm. “Do you want to tell me your name?”

Connor shook his head.

“Okay, that’s fine. I promise you, no one’s going to hurt you. Do you want to come out?”

Connor shook his head again.

“Are you an omega?”

Connor raised his lip in a snarl. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he taunted the man. “One more slave for you to fuck? You goddamn alphas are all the same.” His anger had long ago turned to irrational rage, and it felt good to unleash it on these men, for all that they’d likely kill him for his impertinence.

To his surprise, Dante smiled, but there was none of the expected cruelty in the expression. Instead, he seemed genuinely surprised. “Alpha? I wish. I’m afraid you’ve got that one a little backwards.” He tugged down the side of his shirt, revealing a tattoo curling up over his shoulder.

Connor stared blankly at the mark as his brain tried to make sense of the black lines. A tattoo? Alphas weren’t tattooed. If Dante had a tattoo, it meant he was…

“I’m an omega,” Dante said. “Just like you.”

“What about him?” Connor asked, nodding at Gabriel.

“He’s an alpha,” Dante said. “His name’s Gabriel. But he’s not going to hurt you.”

But that made even less sense. Why would an alpha be letting an omega take charge of the situation? And he’d apologised when he’d knocked Dante sideways to protect him from Connor’s knife. There was no alpha in the world who would apologise to an omega.

Dante had to be lying, he decided. Gabriel was likely a beta. But this Antoine, whoever he was, would be an alpha. And when he arrived, he’d drag Connor out and punish him.

But then Dante spotted the smear of blood Connor had left on the side of the crate when he’d squeezed in here. Connor longed to check the wound on his leg, but he didn’t dare take his eyes off the men. “Are you injured?” Dante asked, his voice sounding deceptively concerned.

“He cut himself on a nail,” Gabriel said. “Left some blood on the floor. I’m not sure how serious it is.”

“I promise, I’m not going to let anyone hurt you,” Dante said. “Could you come out? We could have a look at your wound for you.”

“Or just make it worse,” Connor said, not caring if he made them angry. It wouldn’t make any difference, anyway. “Besides, you’re an omega. You can’t stop anyone from hurting me. You’re just lying to me to make your masters happy and keep yourself out of trouble.” That was the worst sort of omega, in his view; one who would happily sell out his fellow slaves for a pat on the back and a morsel of food as a reward. Cowardly bastards.

Dante raised an eyebrow at him. “Perhaps you didn’t get a good enough look at my tattoo,” he said. He pulled his shirt to the side again, but this time, he twisted to the left, turning his shoulder forward. Connor didn’t see what point he was trying to make. There was nothing special about this estate. It was just a common farm. It wasn’t the home of nobility and there was nothing about Dante’s master’s insignia that could mean anything to him. But to humour the man, he let his gaze wander over his brand again… and then his eyes widened in shock. A thin, black circle surrounded the usual brand – the official mark of a bonded omega!

“You’re bonded!” Connor blurted out, his mind suddenly a chaotic whirlwind of thoughts. If Dante had bonded to his alpha, that meant… It meant the alpha had to be a kind man, gentle, and caring, and…

“Yes, I am,” Dante said. “To Antoine. He’s the master of the house. You have nothing to fear from him.”

Connor heard the door to the stable open again, and he braced himself as a new wave of fear swept over him. Antoine was here. And for all the recent revelation about just what sort of alpha he was, that still wasn’t going to help Connor. Perhaps these alphas wouldn’t hurt him, but they’d still send him back to his masters. Omegas were slaves, every single one of them legally owned by an alpha. And to run away was one of the worst crimes an omega could commit. Even the kindest of alphas would have no choice but to find out where he’d come from and send him back again.

Footsteps approached the end of the stable, then a third man stepped into view. He had dark skin and an air of authority. Antoine.

The man stared down at him, a slight frown on his face. “Where did he come from?”

“Don’t know,” Gabriel said. “I got up early and I was cleaning out the stables when I found him.”

“He hasn’t said anything much,” Dante added. “He won’t tell me his name.”

Antoine put a hand on Dante’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze, and something about that gesture got Connor’s attention. It was intended to reassure, to tell his omega that he hadn’t done anything wrong by failing to get a name from him, and Connor dared to feel a sliver of hope. The alpha didn’t seem angry.

Antoine crouched down beside Dante. “I promise no one will hurt you,” he said. “I’d like to help you. Will you come out? I just want to talk.”

Could he trust this man? Perhaps, if he was really very kind, he’d let Connor go, allow him to keep running away and keep silent about the lost slave that had crossed his property? A bonded alpha was a rare thing, and something about his voice was compelling. Antoine waited, giving Connor the time to think about what he wanted to do.

The truth of it was that he had little choice. He couldn’t stay here forever. And if even the master of the house was promising not to hurt him…