Frigid, crisp air fills my lungs as I make my way to the abandoned warehouse. Around me, shouts of pleasure, screams of fear, and the tantalizing scent of sex hang heavy in the air. It calls to me, seduces me, and begs me to join in the fray.
Soon. Soon.
Even as that thought reverberates through my head, an odd sensation, one I’ve never allowed myself to feel, winds its way around my throat, nearly choking me. I recognize it for what it is—anger. It’s not as if this emotion is a complete stranger to me, but this time, it feels different.
Instead of tamping it down, stamping it out before the damned implant can render me incoherent, I allow it to grow, unfurl, filling me until every ragged breath is consumed with it. I hesitate, waiting for that godawful zap I know will come soon enough. But it never does.
Glancing down at my phone, I note the numbers as they tick by. It only took one hour for me to test my limits, to feel the restraint slipping. Though all Alphas received the message detailing the events of tonight and how they were going to unfold, I never believed it. Why would such a controlling government allow us one night of freedom? I still planned out how tonight was going to go, but never once did I actually think we could go through with it.
A smile tugs at my lips as I close my eyes, listening to the cacophony as it surrounds me. This is what it feels like to be a true Alpha, to act as our body dictates and not how the government means to control us. As I open the door, the groan of old metal sounds ominous to my ears, sizzling along my synapses.
For once, I feel alive. No longer is it this pale existence I’ve been forced to live. It’s a heady sensation, one I’ll carry with me when they turn the implants back on. Reaching up, I slide my fingertips along the old scar at the base of my neck, grazing it with my nail.
Though the Universal Governance Council seems to think by offering this one night it will make our full, work-a-day lives feel meaningful, more productive without the phantom ache of need, I fear it will do the opposite. Now that I’m tasting true freedom for the first time, I may never wish to go back. Then again, once the regulators are switched back on, I may cease to care again. Who knows?
I glance at the countdown again, watching as the time scrolls on. Only twelve more hours to enjoy this before drifting back into solitude for another 364 days. Irritation rolls down my spine, sending a frisson of annoyance into my brain.
It snaps and sizzles like a live wire, the novel sensations nearly overwhelming. But I can’t let it get to me. Just because I can feel, it doesn’t mean I can allow myself to become an animal like the other Alphas out there—pillaging and plundering without thought of tomorrow. Reaching out, I run my hand along the worn brick of the weathered exterior, my mind taking a far more dangerous turn.
When planning this night, I chose this location for a purpose. I told the others it was to give us a bit of privacy and a terrifying atmosphere, but it goes far beyond that. Closing my eyes, I take in a deep breath, drawing the familiar scents into my lungs.
Though an Elite now, it wasn’t always the case. I was the son of a low-born beta, living not far from here. We scrambled for everything, never knowing where our next meal was coming from. Granted, once Dad got a better job, we were able to move, taking up residence in the city, living a suburbanite’s existence.
But it still didn’t erase the terror and need I grew up with. If not for the kind presence of my mom… No. I will not allow myself to think of her right now. I cannot allow tonight to sully her memory. Knowing her, she would be ashamed of what my friends and I were planning.
Shoving off the memory of her smiling face, I grit my teeth and clench my fingers into fists. Tonight, it is all about breaking old chains and coming into our own. It’s only fitting I stand in my power in the place where I suffered the most. Securing my wolf mask firmly in place, I walk into the dim room where we’re supposed to meet up.
Six other Alphas stand around softly conversing, their masks hiding their identities. However, I know each and every one as if they were a brother to me. And in some ways, they are—a fraternity of sorts. We dominate both in the boardroom and in our sexual lives.
The only thing standing in our way of truly conquering all of Sector Five is the implants keeping our urges in check. But not tonight. Tonight, we will dine, feast, terrorize, and bend these omegas to our deviant will.
Granted, it’s not as if we can’t let our kinky urges out in the BDSM clubs or with a willing partner, but tonight, these omegas can’t say no, and that’s what gets me harder than I’ve ever been in my life. It’s the knowledge that I hold a precious life in my hands and can snuff it out if I so choose.
I won’t, however, since the urge to kill is not what drives me tonight. Based on the muffled sounds that come through, a fair share of Alphas seems to be using this night to bleed off some of their homicidal urges, but not us. We don’t need to indulge that way.
With a swipe of our pens, we can destroy someone, demolish them, render them penniless, useless. No, the need to annihilate another is not the satisfaction we crave. Ours is a sexual violence, the need to feast on tears and arousal as they flow from the bodies of our prey.
As we assemble, I take in the golden masks as they glint in the dim lights, each one an animal representing our baser natures—beasts, apex predators, animals who can destroy without a single thought. Though we remain dressed as if coming from work—crisp white shirts, expensive slacks, shoes that shine despite the grime threatening to coat them—we feel at home amongst the refuse and derelict conditions surrounding us.
“Remember the rules,” I grind out as another scraping sound, presumably the screech from the rolling delivery bay door, floods the room. “Masks stay on at all times. Never mark your omega in a way that leads back to you.” Glancing over at the man in the hyena mask, I glare as best as I can. “That means you, Hyaena.”
“Dammit,” he grunts, kicking at a pile of dirty papers moldering on the floor. “I was hoping you’d forget that one.”
“Not a fucking chance. Codenames at all times. And for God’s sake, don’t forget to drug your omega when you’re done. We want them to go home unsure of what happened tonight. Oh, and the biggest one, even if you fuck up the others, do not claim an omega. The last thing you want is to be saddled with an omega that’s willing to sell their body for money.”
This is just a reminder, a quick conversation between us to keep our heads in the game. Since finding out about our night of freedom, we’ve already planned this all out and talked it to death. The roulette was last night. We’ve all held onto our numbers, just waiting for this moment to see who we’re going to fuck tonight.
Reaching into my pocket, I pull out a thin sheet of gold, no bigger than a bookmark. Lucky number 7. Around me, the others pull theirs out, their eyes glimmering with lustful excitement behind their masks.
The need to ravage the lithe bodies being set up in another room runs through me until my vision blurs. We know nothing of these women. They are strangers to us, just as we will be to them. Next to me in the panther mask, Panthera, the one who arranged the ad targeted at omega women looking to make a quick fifty thousand, shuffles back and forth as he rubs his hands together.
Not even he knows what they look like or what their names are. As I understand it, the form was simple. They put in basic information about themselves, and an algorithm did the rest. Hopefully, keeping a human touch out of it isn’t going to bite us in the end.
We stand there, poised as our ears strain in the silence. Seconds meld into minutes. It feels like an eternity before the sound of a loud slap against the side of a truck ripples through the walls. Our prey awaits us.
Slipping deeper into the warehouse, we enter the room where the omegas are staged for us. Metal creaks against metal as they hang there, like slabs of meat ready to be carved. I look over at the Naja in the snake mask, noting the syringe he pulls out of his pants pocket. His poor omega will be in for quite the evening.
Part of me, the part that’s been trained to be docile, tells me I should feel sorry for her. And perhaps even as much as two hours ago, I would have. Now, without those false strictures in place, I can’t find it in me to care. All I care about is my little prey and what it is I plan to do to her.
Should I utilize my knife skills? Carving into her so that her mind fractures with thoughts of mutilation? Should I rob her of air? Making her beg me for every breath? The options whirl about until I’m nearly faint with need and lust.
My balls clench as my cock surges up. We fan out, looking for our numbers hanging off of the sacks around their heads, concealing their faces. If only we didn’t insist on such theatrics. Then, the numbers could have just hung from their ears like the prey they were.
As it is, just like cattle waiting to be slaughtered, they hang motionless. Only the slight movement in their chests denoting breathing gives any indication they’re still alive. Precum wells to my tip as I watch the swell of their breasts move almost simultaneously.
One by one, the others find their omegas, tossing them over their shoulders to take them to a separate room to enact their deviant desires. Only one left. She hangs there in the very center, her body slightly rotating back and forth.
There’s something odd about her; I can’t put my finger on it. With her face covered in a burlap sack, I’m unable to see who she is, but the closer I get, my gut clenches. That scent. I’d know it anywhere.
It drifts off of the shirt I keep in my closet. It embeds itself in my lungs as I rub it over my body, using it to wrap around my cock as I jerk myself off to the mental image of her smile, the sound of her laugh as it skitters down my spine. It clings to me as I go to work and invades my brain with every breath.
My fingers tremble as I fist the sack and yank it off, revealing the omega that’s haunted my dreams and disturbed fantasies for the last two years. My stepsister hangs there, her lips parted in sleep. God, but how I want to drive my cock into her mouth, to wake her up stuffed full of me, with my cum dripping from her cunt.
Taking her off of the hook, I cradle her in my arms, holding her gently to my chest. Tonight, I’ll finally take what I’ve wanted and been denied. Fuck the rules I’ve set in place for us. After I’m done with her, she will want only me. I will haunt her dreams just as she has haunted mine.
