Page 8 of The Violence of Love (The Black Market Omega #2)

Autry

“There she is.” Dr. Plume smiles widely as he strolls into my room. Well, it’s not really a room. It’s a cot surrounded by a flimsy partition in a big open tent.

I can easily hear the other omegas. There are a few that are excited to find a mate today, but most sound scared. A handful are crying softly. One even screamed at the top of her lungs to be let go. They carried her out of here pretty quickly.

Listening to the poor girl on the cot next to me cry, I wish I hadn’t fought the pressure of finding a mate when I was at Beechworth. It was a good academy with some decent alphas trying to pursue me.

But there's no sense in dwelling on the past.

I made my bed. And now I get to lie in it.

“What time is it?” I ask the doctor, hugging my middle tight. There’s a weird chill in the air despite the stuffy summer weather, or maybe I’m just scared. That makes more sense .

“6 p.m.,” Dr. Plume says, pulling up a rolling stool beside me.

“Everything starts in about an hour.” He sits across from me like we’re about to have a pleasant chat.

“I’m sorry you had to wait all day. We try to process the more distressed omegas first.” I feel like I am distressed, but apparently not enough. “How are you holding up?”

My training kicks in like muscle memory. Years of being taught to smile, to be pleasant, agreeable. I flash him my best I’m-fine-and-you-don’t-need-to-worry smile. “Great.”

“Good to hear.” He picks up the clipboard at the end of my cot and flips through the paperwork. “Looks like they already filled out your one-sheet.”

From the corner of my eye, I spot someone peeking past the curtain.

My heart jumps. It’s Charlie.

I sit up straighter, breath catching in my throat. Relief floods me so fast it’s dizzying. I was sure he’d left. After the beta with the baton dragged him away to deal with a distressed omega, I figured I’d never get to say goodbye. But here he is, watching me.

“Okay, Autry,” Dr. Plume says, clicking his pen before tucking it away. Charlie vanishes behind the curtain again, probably hiding. Maybe he’s not supposed to be in here. “Let’s talk about your options today.”

I force myself to look at the doctor instead of the spot where Charlie stood. I can feel his presence like a tether holding me together.

“We have two different places where you can find a mate.” Dr. Plume rests my chart on his lap. “We have a display room and a showroom.” He leans in and says, “I think you’ll do very well in the showroom.” There's an excited lift in his voice, telling me this must be the better option.

I nod to show him I’m listening.

“You’ll get to mingle with the alphas. Meet their whole pack. Feel their energy.”

This sounds like a sales pitch.

“Do I get to pick who I go home with?” I ask, even though I already know the answer. This is a black market. It’s all about the highest bidder, but I’m hopeful.

“Kind of.” Dr. Plume’s face tightens. “If you connect with a pack, you might be able to persuade them to bid a little higher.”

Translation: No, I don’t.

I deflate a bit. “What’s the display room?”

“You don’t get to interact with the alphas.

” Dr. Plume’s whole demeanor turns cold, telling me it’s not a great option.

“There’s a barrier between you and the alphas.

You can’t talk to each other. You can only look.

” His grip tightens slightly on the clipboard.

He looks… unsure. Nervous. “Would you rather be in the display room?”

I pause—but only for a second. Then I shake my head. “No.” Even though I won’t actually get to pick my pack in the showroom, it at least makes me feel like I’ll have a little bit of a say. “I’ll do the showroom.”

Dr. Plume beams, like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders.

“Excellent.” He leans back and peeks out through the curtain.

Charlie’s gone again. “Kelly!” He turns back to me.

“While you’re in the showroom, you’ll be perfectly safe.

There are guards posted all around the room as well as medical staff should you get too overwhelmed. ”

A very tall nurse with a tight blonde ponytail slips around the partition. At first glance, she looks like an alpha, but her scent is too muted. I can’t even pick it out. “Yes, Dr. Plume?” she asks with a polite tilt of her head.

“Autry will be in the showroom,” he says proudly, like I’m his star student. “She’ll need a low-dose suppressant and a neck guard.”

“Of course.” Kelly nods and walks off.

“Suppressant?” I ask, suddenly uneasy.

“Yes,” Dr. Plume says as he stands. The conversation is clearly over. “You’ve been in isolation. No interaction with alphas for months. You’ll need something to keep from falling into your heat.”

“But I was in the car with that she-alpha all morning.” I pause, trying to remember her name. It’s been a long day. “Angelica.”

Dr. Plume goes stiff, before peaking around the edge of the partition.

He checks one way, then the other, before leaning in and whispering, “She-alphas refuse to admit it out loud, but their pheromones aren’t as strong as males.

Especially not dozens of males all packed into a single space.

” He gives me a pointed look. “You’ll need the suppressant. ”

All the blood drains from my face, and I’m suddenly not so sure about the showroom. But before I can say anything, the doctor is already gone, walking briskly toward the front of the tent, clipboard in hand.

I sit there frozen, the fear I’ve been holding off creeping up the back of my neck. I want to run. I want to scream. But most of all, I want Charlie back beside me.

The next hour bleeds away like a bad dream.

A plastic bracelet is snapped around my wrist. It has the number 5223 scribbled in black ink.

And just like that, I become inventory. Two sharp injections follow, leaving a cold weight blooming in my veins.

I’m guided to another tent, larger than the last but no more comforting.

Inside, the air hums with tension and perfume, lit with fluorescent bulbs that make everything a little too bright.

I’m ordered to strip.

The beta who handles me is older, fussy, and far too clinical. She looks me over, discussing my body type and what kind of lingerie will complement my figure the most. It’s humiliating.

“Large chest, narrow hips,” she mutters. “Classic pin-up. Bright red will make the most of that waist.”

It’s like being dressed for slaughter.

“Head up, love.” She lifts my chin with two fingers and brushes something glittery over my cheeks. “You’ll do fine.”

I wrap the thin blanket tighter around my shoulders, even though I’m sweating. The shots are messing with me—my thoughts feel hazy, slipping through my fingers like water. A detached calm tries to take over, but it never quite reaches my heart. That’s still racing.

Around me, other omegas are in various stages of preparation. Hair curled, makeup caked on, lingerie tugged into place. Some are quiet. Others… not. One girl whispers to herself through silent tears. Another stares into the mirror, eyes vacant.

“Deb!” a dark-haired beta calls. “Another van pulled up. I think this batch is for the auction. They all look like hell.”

“Great,” Deb rolls her eyes as she pushes a bobby pin deeper into my scalp. “It’s so hard to do their hair when they keep falling asleep. I hate that they sedate them so much.”

Sedated.

The word makes my stomach flip. My bracelet. The shots. My foggy thoughts. It wasn’t just a heat suppressant. They drugged me .

I twist the bracelet, watching the numbers blur as my fingers tremble.

“Alright, girlie,” Deb says briskly. “Let’s get a look at you.”

She strips the blanket away. I flinch but don’t protest. The red slip clings to my body—thin and short, barely grazing the tops of my thighs. Thankfully, they gave me matching underwear, but they’re tiny, riding up my crack.

“It’s a shame you don’t have a fuller ass.” Deb bunches up the fabric around my waist, checking out my hips, then my chest. “But the alphas will go crazy for your boobs,” she grins, like it’s a compliment.

I nod, not sure what to say.

“Kent! This one’s ready?—”

“Actually, I’ve got her,” a familiar voice pricks my ears, and my heart stops.

Charlie .

He steps forward, calm but confident, his perfect scent washing over me like warmth on frozen skin. Bread, cinnamon, safety. I lean into him without thinking, my cheek grazing the broad line of his shoulder.

“You’re here,” I whisper like a prayer.

Charlie goes stiff, pulling slightly away from me. “What do they give these omegas?” He laughs, like he’s telling Deb a joke.

“You got her collar?” Deb asks, eyeing him suspiciously.

Charlie lifts the leather band. “Right here.”

“Have fun,” Deb chirps, as she scrunches up her nose at me. It’s clear she thinks I should be excited about this, but I’m honestly terrified.

Charlie subtly squeezes my shoulder. “Let’s go.”

The tent is suffocating as we move through it, a maze of glittering mirrors, swirling makeup scents, and hot, humming lights that beat down like interrogation bulbs. I’m dizzy. A little nauseous.

“Are you taking me away?” I ask, clinging to his arm. “Are we running away?”

He stops outside the exit, scanning the open grounds. His whole body goes taut. I can feel him weighing his options—grabbing me, sprinting for the trees, throwing everything away. And I want that. More than anything, I want him to choose that.

“We’re going to the showroom,” he says instead, and I shatter a little.

“No,” I whimper as he pulls me toward another tent. A few betas in scrubs pass us, and a mighty roar cracks the air. I tuck myself against Charlie’s side, trying to find the source of the noise.

This meadow was fairly empty when we arrived this morning, but now it’s packed.

There are so many people and massive velvet tents that dot the land.

A sea of alphas move on the other side of a line of concrete barriers.

As if sensing my presence, several of them turn, watching me with rapt attention as Charlie pulls me around the side of the tent. I don’t want this anymore.

I want to go home.

I want to feel my mother’s arms around me and smell her gentle beta aroma.

I want the life I destroyed back.

“Don’t make me go to the showroom.” I cling to Charlie, praying he’ll pull me toward the trees. That he’ll run away with me, and never look back.

“Autry.” He grabs my wrists and gently pulls me back to look into my face. His eyes are so serious. “I have a plan,” he says in a rushed whisper. “I don’t know if it’ll work, but,” he pauses, nervously biting his bottom lip, “But I’m going to try to join the pack that claims you.”

My breath catches. “Really?” I chirp, too loud, too hopeful.

“Shh.” He smiles, despite the nerves radiating off of him. I nod, then mime locking my lips shut tight. I don’t know why I did that. I’m not keeping a secret. I’m staying quiet.

That shot has me acting so stupid.

“This is what I need from you,” he says, voice low and rushed. “The alphas in the showroom are supposed to be part of a pack. Singles aren’t allowed to claim the omegas there. Only at the auction.”

That sends a bolt of panic through me. “They shouldn’t be allowed to claim us anywhere.

Omegas need packs, not lone alphas,” I say a little too forcefully as everything I learned at the academy rushes at me.

“We need packs,” I say firmly. I don’t know why I’m talking about this.

None of it matters. But it's like there’s a disconnect between my brain and my mouth.

“I know.” Charlie takes my hand, long fingers wrapping around my wrist, anchoring me. “And you’ll get one, Autry. You will. But here’s what I need from you.”

I stand up straight, focused now, adrenaline cutting through the fog.

“Sometimes single alphas find their way into the showroom,” Charlie whispers. “I need for you to find out which ones don’t have a pack.” He nods, so I nod too. “Can you do that?”

“Yes.” I’m still nodding, and the jerky movement makes Charlie smile for some reason.

“I know you’re a little doped up right now.” He cups my cheek briefly. It’s an almost-touch, not quite resting his fingers on my skin, and his dark brows pull together with concern. “The drugs will fade in a few hours, but this is very important. Can you do this for me, baby?”

The sudden endearment makes my heart swell and my face burn bright red. “I can do this.” Without thinking, I push up onto my tiptoes and plant a kiss on Charlie’s incredibly soft lips. It’s the lightest press of lips. Soft. Unthinking. Needy.

Charlie instantly pulls back, stunned, then chuckles under his breath. “You shouldn’t do that.” He glances around. “Someone might see.”

I grin, a little dizzy. “Sorry. Couldn’t help it.”

“Just be friendly.” He lifts my wrist, examining the secure plastic bracelet. “Ask for the bidding numbers for the alphas with no packs.” He takes out a pen, then changes the three to an eight. “I’ll do the rest.”

“Yes, sir,” I promise with a little bounce.

One alpha and the beta of my dreams. I can live with that kind of pack.