Page 5

Chapter 5

Kobe

The moment I open my eyes, an unmistakable ping of guilt cuts through my chest. Even before my mind is fully alert and before I lazily find the clock to see that it’s 7AM, I feel the same regret I did when I realized what I had said last night.

Sighing, I roll on my stomach and lie there until it becomes clear I’m not going to fall asleep again. I’ve had a couple of hours of sleep at least. Better than nothing.

A bit of light comes through the cheap roller blinds over my window, allowing my eyes to adjust slowly.

I stare ahead blankly, wondering why I am such an idiot. Was it obvious that what I blurted out would’ve upset him? I’m not sure I entirely understand why Apollo reacted that way, and I worry that I never will because he might not even speak to me again after this.

Wait—why do I want him to speak to me again?

Groaning, I turn on my back and rub my face. There are more important things to tend to. Like Skyler turning the TV on full blast in the living room.

I jump out of the bed and rush in there, grabbing the remote and tapping the volume down. With an unhappy ‘what the hell are you doing?’ kind of grimace, I turn to Skyler, who sits on the couch, a bowl of milk and cereal in hand. He widens his small brown eyes at me, shrugging in confusion.

“You’re going to wake Marci up. She’s not feeling well,” I say through my gritted teeth, trying to keep my voice down.

Skyler rolls his eyes. “It wasn’t that loud.”

I learned a long time ago not to argue with him about little things, so I sigh and take a seat next to him. I haven’t had the time to speak to him properly in ages. “Why are you up so early, anyway? And…” Pausing, I glance over my shoulder at the kitchen, where the open milk and cereal box both sit on the counter. Again . “You made food,” I finish the sentence hesitantly, fighting the urge to get up and go put stuff away.

Instead, I stay by him, hoping for some brother-to-brother time before the carer gets here.

“Yeah,” he says, looking at me briefly before his attention turns back to the TV.

He’s being snappy with me. Probably because I haven’t been very present. Fair enough . “I’m sorry I’ve been putting in so many hours at work lately. Remember I told you I was changing positions? It’s just…a lot of hassle.”

Skyler puts up a heaping spoonful of cereal into his mouth, humming. “Whatever,” he mutters between chewing, letting some milk drizzle down his pointy chin.

I frown, struggling to keep my cool. Feeling half asleep and tired, it definitely isn’t easy. “I’m really sorry, alright? I want to be here more, Sky. I’m trying. And I know I promised you we would play that new video game together, which we will .” Maybe I shouldn’t have brought that up. With how his memory is, he might have forgotten about it. Still, I need him to know I care. “My work is just going to be a little busy for a while. It’s all so you and Marci can be happy and comfortable.”

“We don’t need to be comfortable. We want you here. I want you here.”

Skyler’s sudden honesty surprises me, and it would’ve been nice if it wasn’t laced with bubbling frustration. The last thing I need is for him to lose his temper right now, before school and everything. Then again, I can’t even be mad at him for being angry in this situation.

Feeling emotionally ran into the corner, I slowly reach out my hand and pat him on the head. “Stop,” he whispers grumpily, but I can tell pretty well when he means it and when it’s just him trying to detach and struggling to accept affection.

Smiling, I lean closer to him on the couch and rest my head against his shoulder. “I want to be here. I’m here now. Hannah is going to be here any moment. You think you could clear up the food after yourself so the milk doesn’t get spoiled and change before she gets here? I’m sure she’d appreciate it.” I try to motivate him to do things by himself when I can, but so often it feels like I only come off as nagging.

Skyler finishes his bowl and puts it on the couch next to him, turning to me with a sour expression. “You only care when it’s about chores or me cleaning my room. You only ask about school. This new job is stupid. Why couldn’t you keep the old one?”

I press my lips together. “Because sometimes things don’t work the way we want them to. I didn’t have a choice. I ask and care about these things because I care about you. So please, trust me, okay?”

He’s a teenager , I remind myself. On top of all his other difficulties. I know I should cut him some slack. When I was fourteen, I felt annoyed by everything too.

“You always say that,” he blurts out in frustration and gets up, heading for his room.

Before he can shut the door behind him, I open my mouth to shout for him to stop, but he does it anyway. With a deep exhale, I look at the bowl on the couch and for a split second, a horrible thought flashes through my head: I can’t wait for Hannah to be here . It makes me pause and grips my insides with guilt as it echoes in my mind.

What’s worse, Hannah’s face also brings forth another, eerily similar one. That girl’s from yesterday. Once again, I can’t help but wonder what happened to her.

The start of today is definitely nowhere near ideal. I make peace with that—it wouldn’t be my first shitty day, or a hundredth. Letting the gloom brew inside me before I have to shove it down, I mindlessly clean up the bowl, put everything back in the kitchen, and turn the TV off.

I get in the shower to wake myself up and take my suppressants. Jasper wanted me to come at noon again. I only hope that working me like a dog won’t last forever. Having only a few days off these past weeks is getting to me; especially when it comes to Skyler and Marci. I need to be more present. Otherwise, I might as well be my mother…

Hannah arrives a little while after. I try to ignore the memories of that girl when I look at her youthful face and instead ask about Skyler’s life and school. He’s been notably struggling with math this year, and it frustrates him more than he lets on. Thankfully, Hannah’s been with us long enough to be the only other person besides me to really help him and get through to him.

Right now, she may be closer to him than me…

Her constant care and help gives Sky the best shot at having the most functional, normal life he can. It’s the only reason guilt doesn’t eat me alive for neglecting being at home and working instead. Homecare workers, special education classes, and doctor appointments are all possible only thanks to that.

No matter my dirty conscience, it’s all worth it.

?

When I get to work later, the place is pretty dead. I’m not sure why exactly I’ve been instructed to come so early, but I make my way to Jasper’s office like I was told to.

The door is wide open, which is nothing unusual. A few of the guys sit on the fancy armchairs by the wall and others stand near Jasper’s table, chatting. It sometimes feels like a bunch of them basically live here. They seem to be around no matter the time.

Knocking at the door frame to announce myself, I walk in and bow my head in respect.

“There he is!” Jasper rejoices, standing up from his chair. He appears to be in a good mood today. There have been days when he’s more quiet, in a slightly menacing way that makes me nervous. When he’s all theatrical and talkative, he’s easier to predict.

As the guys turn to look at me, they move away from the table, revealing a sturdy black box. Right away, a subtle alarm somewhere at the back of my head goes off.

“What’s this about?” I ask, not showing much concern or interest.

“Your job,” Jasper says, slapping his hand on the top of it. “Not something I can just send through the post, so… I need you to personally deliver this to one Ringwood Company in Brooks. Drop it at the reception. Only a couple of hours from here. Shouldn’t take you too long. You’ll find the address in the car’s GPS.”

The silence, paired with the strangely attentive looks of everyone around me, makes me even more nervous, but I step toward the table, keeping it cool. There’s a note on top, saying it’s meant for the president of the corporation.

When I glance up at Jasper, his striking blue eyes await me. A smirk on his face gives me the creeps. I don’t like this.

“Surely, you’re curious about what’s in there,” he says, excitement buzzing behind his words like he can’t wait to show me. Everyone else is, too. Or rather…they can’t wait to see my reaction , it seems. “Go on. Have a peek.” He turns the box around so that the hinges are facing him. I already know this won’t be good.

Damn right it’s not going to be flowers or chocolates.

Hesitating will make me come across as weak, so I reach for the clamps, popping them open. With my breath held, I slowly lift the lid. Inside the cushioned and air-tight lining of the container is a hand. A forearm cut cleanly about in the middle.

My heart takes up a panicked tempo, pounding in my throat. With all my focus, I separate my genuine reaction and the connection to my face, staring at it blankly, unable to look away. Judging by the nails and the size of it, it must be a female’s hand. And there…is a small tattoo right above the wrist. A butterfly.

I can’t be sure, but I think I glimpsed that tattoo…on the girl yesterday.

You are sure. You know it’s her.

More feelings flood my chest like a crushing wave, so I blink sharply and clench my jaw. With a slow, careful breath, I shut the box and look up at Jasper. “Anything else?” I ask, almost impressed by how steady I manage to keep my voice, even while I feel close to throwing up.

He’s testing me. They’re all testing me. Of course they are. I cannot afford to fail.

The smirk slowly disappears from his lips, shifting into a more neutral expression. I’m not the only one capable of hiding my real thoughts—clearly, there’s something behind his eyes, but he doesn’t let me know. Is he happy with my reaction? Disappointed? Either way, he nods and cocks his brow.

“That’s all. You’re dismissed,” he says while sitting back down in his chair like nothing happened. “Take a lunch break or whatever after, but be sure to be here by six. I have somewhere to be.”

I grab the box, putting it under my arm. Still feeling everyone’s gaze on me, I leave the room, knowing damn well they’ll all talk about me once I’m gone.

All I can hear as I head for the car is the galloping of my heart. My cheeks burn, and I hope they don’t look flush. The box feels heavy. Far too heavy for what it is. Or maybe exactly because of what it is. It’s cold, too. My stupid mind makes it so, playing tricks on me, torturing me.

Sometimes I wish I could be like them. That I could really turn it all off, or not feel in the first place. To be able to live in this world without shame and guilt would be a blessing.

But I can’t.

When I pop it on the passenger seat next to me, my stomach twists. I stare at the box, pressing my lips together, my breath shaky now that no one’s looking. Underneath my leather gloves, my fingers are freezing cold, so I rub them against each other, just sitting for a few moments until I get a grip on myself.

‘She could still be alive’ , my brain tries to find ways to soothe me, but I know better. Even if she is, she won’t be for long. This gift is a threat. And something tells me that this person—regardless of who they are, and however they vexed Jasper or stood in his way—they’re not seeing this girl again, either, whoever she was to them.

All her dreams, her goals, and the life she thought she’d have…gone.

“Nothing you can change,” I whisper to myself, squeezing the steering wheel with my eyes closed. “You’re doing what you have to do.”

My conscience fights against the mantras for a while. Yet after so many repeats, it relents, allowing me to believe those words, even if only for a short while.

I drive to Brooks.

I deliver the box to a smiling, lovely young receptionist who’s completely unaware of the true weight of it.

I leave.

Jasper’s foolish expectation of me being able to eat is just more proof of how different our minds really are. All I can manage is some coffee, sipped slowly until it turns cold while I sit in a dark, quiet alley not too far from the Dollhouse, staring blankly into a wall for what feels like hours.

By the time I have to get back, I’m numb and content with continuing to play my role again. After all, what else is there for me?

Like Jasper wanted, I return to his office just before 6 PM. He’s alone now, with only Roe standing guard outside the door. We nod at each other as I pass—he’s among the few reserved, fairly sane guys around here. At least from what I can tell.

Jasper’s intently watching something on one of his computer screens. He doesn’t look up until I stop in front of his table. Hands joined behind my back, I wait quietly.

“All done?” he asks, looking up at me. I notice he must have changed since the morning. He’s wearing an expensive branded shirt. The luster from the silky material makes him look even more lavish and important. The fabric hugs his swelling, muscular chest and arms.

“Yes, sir. Like I confirmed in the text.”

I stand motionless, chin held high, while he stands, gathering his phone, wallet, and the gun he puts into his holster. “Let’s go then,” he says with an excited spark in his voice.

We get to the car. There are no other guys around. “Just the two of us?” I ask. Most of the time, when I take Jasper places, it’s with an entourage of his men.

“This is a more… intimate business negotiation,” he says, exaggerating the word as he glances at me briefly with a smirk.

“I see.”

He gives me an address and indeed; it is in a more high-end residential area newly built at the edge of the city, quite the distance away from the Dollhouse. Jasper hums an upbeat melody the entire way there, spread out on the back seat, head hung low as he’s focused on his phone. While nothing would surprise me at this point, I doubt he’ll be kidnapping or maiming anyone tonight.

As we wait at a red light close to the destination, I feel his stare on me for the first time and quickly glance up at the rearview mirror. With his eyes narrowed, he watches me. I’m about to question him when he speaks. “You’re surprisingly tough. For an omega, I mean.”

I don’t know what to say to that, so I avert my gaze in discomfort before smiling faintly. I guess he expected me to break down at the sight of that severed hand. Or back out, maybe.

“Just doing my best.” I try to not let him hear the slight frustration prickling at me underneath my skin.

Not that I’m surprised at an alpha saying something like this. It’s just…weird. Apollo is his omega. Is he not basically saying that he’s supposed to be innately weak and useless? If we all are in his eyes, how can he see him as his partner? His equal?

Jasper chuckles, lowering his gaze again. Our final destination is up ahead. Lucky for me, I won’t have to continue this uncomfortable conversation.

I stop at the driveway of the modern, multi-storey house. The grass on the front lawn is green and perfectly trimmed. Several outdoor lights adorn almost every white wall, lighting it up like some art piece in a museum. There are already two expensive cars parked in front of the garage, and no doubt more inside.

Jasper gets out without a word, but pauses and leans down before walking off. I quickly slide down the passenger side window for him and he rests his elbow against it while poking in. “The car’s all streaky. Get it cleaned before getting it back to the Dollhouse. I’ll message you in the morning when I need a pickup. Probably early. So be ready.” After giving his string of orders, he waits for my nod. “Wish me luck with the negotiations,” he finally says with a smirk before withdrawing and heading for the main door.

I glance up and I notice a woman standing by the large window at the front of the highest level of the house. She’s wearing a figure-hugging evening dress that accentuates her voluptuous body. As soon as she sees Jasper walking toward the building, she turns around, her long blonde hair twirling behind her like a wave, and she disappears inside.

A bitter taste builds at the bottom of my mouth. Negotiations… Right.

Even though the car looks fine, I welcome the excuse to spend some more time alone. While the car wash does its thing, I sit inside with my eyes closed, wondering if I’ll be able to go home and get some sleep before picking up Jasper in the morning.

Skyler is always drained from his day at school in the evening and gets pretty moody. Marci hasn’t been feeling too well lately, either. It’s the time of year when her flare ups get worse.

I should be there for them, helping, but instead, I’m annoyed at the mere thought because of how mentally exhausted I feel.

“Fuck my life,” I mutter.

Back in the Dollhouse, my only wish is to get my things out of my locker and head home. Unfortunately, I’m not that lucky. Trey and a few others talk in the hallway, as loud and seemingly bored as usual. The moment they see me, they ask me to play poker with them in the warehouse backroom.

With all of my being, I want to refuse, but I can’t do that.

I have to stay, instead of spending some quality time with my family, because otherwise, I’m going to remain a stranger here. Once I decline this one offer, there might be no more coming after. I become that omega who never wants to hang out. I get othered and pushed to the side. The last thing I need is to make life harder for myself. Even if it means having to waste time doing something I don’t enjoy with people I don’t like to be around.

At least I’m not the worst at poker. I watched Mr. Wilson play enough of it with his old hotshot colleagues to learn a thing or two.

“Sure,” I say with feigned interest. Trey slaps me over the back excitedly and we head out.

The group takes a route that goes right through the Dollhouse—definitely not the shortest one, but somehow good enough for the guys to have a quick little peek at the scantily clad and actively-at-work dolls.

The sound and scent of the place overwhelms me for a moment. It does every time I have to be here, which thankfully isn’t often. I was informed of the rules all of Jasper’s men have to abide by when I started here—no fooling with the dolls. Unless you pay for it. That is aside from the wonderful tradition of getting a night with one of them on one’s birthday. Jasper’s gratuitous gift to his loyal workers.

Still, it doesn’t stop some guys from staring them down suggestively, and it doesn’t stop two of the uncomfortably young-looking girls walking from the bar, wearing nothing but tiny tutu skirts and sheer corsets from flirtatiously winking at our group.

I face away, not in the mood to engage, and when I do, my eyes inevitably meet the stage. Today, it’s crowded. What’s happening nearly makes my heart stop. Without realizing it, my legs stop moving, and I stare at the scene, this one nowhere near as enchanting or poetic as the first time.

What’s in front of me is not short of a vulgar, animalistic display. A terrifying, hedonistic show of…whatever it is.

Four men surround Apollo, all much older and larger than him. Trembling on his knees in the middle of the bed, he’s harshly taken from the back by one, while another tall, buff alpha thrusts into his mouth. Two more sit to the sides—one jerking off to the sight, the other fondling Apollo’s cock. They’re using some sort of gadget connected to his nipples and his penis that I can’t see properly.

My stomach twists. I can’t look away. Inside my heart is nothing but pure terror, not a shred of anything resembling arousal. How could I be turned on by that ? How could they?

He looks… He looks so completely…

Apollo looks like a toy. Like a sex doll. An object. He’s playing the role of the victim in one of those horribly violent pornos, only this is real life. This isn’t a fantasy.

His face draws me in, no matter how much I want to break away from the sight. Drool drips down his mouth as the alpha holds him by the hair and thrusts in and out, unrelenting. Is it sweat running down his cheeks or tears? I can’t tell. He barely looks like he can breathe.

Apollo’s eyes roll into the back of his head until he blinks and turns them to me. The moment his gaze fixates on me, I jolt like I got an electric shock.

I finally manage to tear myself away, quickly turning to catch up with the group.

What felt like me standing there and watching the scene for hours was only a few seconds in reality. I try to push it out of my memory when the door closes behind us, but the image plays in my mind’s eye.

Against all odds, I welcome the distraction of the few poker games. I hate to admit to myself that it clears my head and makes me forget about everything for an hour, but it really does.

When I go back before finally going home, I can’t help but glance into the main room through the small window in the door. The stage is empty now. I’d hope so, after all the time I spent playing. But…something prevents me. A nagging, illogical feeling.

I don’t need or want a smoke, I even refused a cigarette with the guys because I’m not trying to become fully addicted, and yet…I put one between my lips, heading to the back entrance by the loading dock.

What am I expecting? To see him and apologize? For what? Staring?

It’s completely foolish, and still I do it.

To my shock, Apollo is actually there. The other day, I must have accidentally found his favorite place to unwind.

He turns sharply when I step outside. For a moment, there’s a clear discontentment on his face, before he chuckles and shakes his head, looking down. “You again,” he mutters.

The image of him from before flashes in front of my eyes, making me tense up. I light up the cigarette to look like I have a reason to be here—and to calm myself—before stepping closer to him. This time, I don’t sit next to him but stay resting against the pillar above him.

Apollo’s quiet. Of course he is. What those men did, he—

“Are you okay?” I ask softly. I can already predict that he probably won’t appreciate my concern much, but I don’t care. Even if I make him mad again, I have to ask.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he snaps without looking at me. His otherwise smooth voice twists and distorts with desperation at the end, making my heart tug.

I sigh to myself and stare at my feet while smoking the cigarette. Maybe I shouldn’t have come here after all. “Look, I didn’t mean—” Damn it. I can’t get my thoughts straight. “I’m not trying to be weird or disrespectful. I just wanted to apologize for upsetting you last time.”

He lets out a long exhale, so I brave a glance.

Apollo tilts his head up at me, his expression markedly softer. Those grayish-blue eyes still show a strange coldness, but I have a feeling it isn’t aimed at me. “It’s fine,” he says, barely moving his lips, and lowers his gaze like he can’t bear meeting mine. “I’m not… I wasn’t upset. I’ve been in a shit mood. It wasn’t on you,” he admits.

“Good,” I blurt out, a little too excitedly perhaps. “I really didn’t mean to offend by what I implied.”

Apollo nods and leans back. He seems tired. Like he needs a nice long nap in a comfortable bed. Warm and safe.

“I just don’t like being referred to as being someone’s. As if I’m nothing but a toy without an agency. Always found it weird, how people view that sort of thing.”

His candid response almost makes me smile. Not because of what he says but the way he says it. Humming in agreement, I stare at the cigarette between my fingers. “I hear ya…”

Some of the weight resting on top of my chest lifts, knowing I made at least this right.

“What about you?” Apollo asks as I’m throwing the finished cigarette on the ground. Grinding the bud under my foot, I look at him with my brows arched.

“Me?”

He smiles faintly, like he thinks I’m only acting clueless. “Do you have an alpha waiting for you at home?” Finally, some liveliness comes through in his words.

I feel like a teenager because when he meets my eyes, my cheeks flare up. It’s just a question, idiot. Small talk. “Oh, no. No, I don’t really have the time or energy for something serious right now. Never found anyone…right.”

Apollo smirks playfully. The moment I frown, puzzled, he snorts and hangs his head down. “Yeah… You strike me as the type,” he says and stands up. Blinking at him, I open my mouth in confusion. “See you around,” he adds flippantly.

Once again, I let him leave with unspoken words still stuck in my throat. At least this time, he doesn’t appear angry. Quite the opposite.

Gears shift in my mind as I’m left alone on the dock. Was that an insult? What did he mean? I strike him as…the type?

Scratching my head, I chuckle to myself. Apollo really is something .