Page 8 of The Runaway
Connor rose to his knees, then stood up cautiously. He stepped forward, surprised when all three men moved back to give him room. He slid out from between the crates and waited for one of them to grab him, to stop him from running away. None of the men moved.
“What’s your name?” Antoine asked, in that same soothing tone.
“Connor,” Connor said, ashamed of the way his voice sounded so thin and weak. But he was weak. He was an omega. He was a slave. And with the way the world stood, there was never going to be a time when he was anything else.
CHAPTER FIVE
Gabriel stood back as Connor stepped out from between the crates, feeling his heart pounding in his chest like he’d just run a mile. He was desperate to help the young man, but he also knew that almost any move he made would likely be taken as an attempt to harm him. It took a monumental effort to stand still and do nothing, but he managed it, trusting Antoine to manage the situation.
As Connor stepped further into the light, Gabriel got a better look at him. He was filthy, his clothes damp and caked with mud and dust. There was more mud on his face, but beneath the dirt, he could see the purplish stain of a bruise. There was another one on his neck, like someone had wrapped a hand around his throat and squeezed far too hard. His feet were bare and his trousers were torn – not just from the incident with the nail, but with a dozen or more tears that had never been repaired. What sort of monsters would keep their omegas in such a state?
But unfortunately, he already knew the answer. He’d met plenty of them during his time in the army.
“Where are you from?” Antoine asked. So far, Gabriel was surprised he’d managed to get any answers out of Connor at all. But this time around, his gentle probing was unsuccessful.
“Nowhere,” Connor said.
“You’re an omega?” Connor nodded. “May I see your brand?”
“No,” Connor said, clutching his shirt tighter around his shoulders, lest they get even a glimpse of the mark. Despite his fear, his refusal came as a surprise. There weren’t many omegas who would openly defy an alpha. Then again, this one had dared to not only defy one, but to actually run away. Running away was largely considered a death sentence, which was why so few omegas ever attempted it, regardless of how harsh their masters were to them.
“You’re bleeding,” Antoine said next, looking down at the dark stain on Connor’s thigh. “Will you let me have a look at your wound?”
Connor didn’t reply, so Antoine took a small, slow step forward. Connor darted backwards, seeking refuge between the crates. “No? That’s okay. What about Dante? He’s an omega, like you. Would you let him have a look?” Connor’s gaze slid across to land on Dante, while Dante stood patiently, waiting for an answer.
“Okay,” Connor said. But even then, he didn’t move.
“Perhaps you should go with Dante over to the omega’s quarters,” Antoine suggested. “You can have some privacy, and Dante can help you take a bath. Would you like that?”
Connor nodded quickly.
“Okay. Let’s do that then. You can get cleaned up and have something to eat. And you don’t need to run away again. We’re not going to hurt you.”
Connor tensed, as if he’d been planning that very thing, then his shoulders sagged. “Okay.”
“Come on,” Dante said, leading the way. “This way.”
Keeping an eye on Antoine and Gabriel, Connor slid sideways along the wall in the direction Dante was going, then rushed after him at a fast trot once he was a safe enough distance away. He looked back several times, checking that no one was coming after him.
???
Back in the main house, Gabriel followed Antoine into the study, Cirroc trailing along behind them.
“Would you mind going to get Niles?” Antoine said to Cirroc. “I get the feeling we’re going to have a long discussion about this young man, and I’d like him to be here for it.”
“At once, sir,” Cirroc said, before quickly leaving the room.
Once he was gone, Antoine let out a long sigh. “Good God,” he said, collapsing into a chair. “Well, that wasn’t how I saw the morning going.”
“What do you intend to do about him?” Gabriel asked, cutting right to the chase. He felt sick. His body felt hot. His hands were shaking, and it was taking a huge effort to keep himself calm enough to have a rational conversation with Antoine, rather than simply demanding that they keep Connor here to protect him from his vile, cruel master. Connor hadn’t said anything about his master directly, but why else would he have run away?
“Right now, I haven’t a clue,” Antoine said. “The sensible thing to do is send him back to where he came from, but I don’t particularly like the idea of adding to whatever trauma he’s already been through.”
Gabriel felt a surge of rage, which he deftly caught and pushed back down again. “If you send him back, his master will likely kill him.”
“I’m aware of the risks,” Antoine said. “But legally speaking, he’s someone’s property.”
“He’s a human being,” Gabriel snarled at him.