Omega at Risk Read online

  Omega at Risk

  JJ Anderson

  Copyright © 2019 by JJ Anderson

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter One

  Pain exploded through Ronan as he rolled to his side, trying like heck to forget his ‘sins’ while vowing to never entirely give in. Memories from earlier in the evening flashed through his mind.

  Escape. Escape. Escape.

  Echoed in his thoughts. There was no way he could stay.

  Moving his arm caused his breath to catch as a lightning strike of cold then hot flashed over his torso then ran down his legs. He adjusted his position on the bed, pushing the covers to the side since the weight was too much for his sizzling nerves. Tears burned the back of his eyes, but he fought them by biting his tongue. Crying would only earn him more stripes.

  The beating had been severe. He should have grabbed a bag of peas to use as ice before he headed to bed, but he’d not wanted to chance running into his father.

  His breathing was jagged as his thoughts. He wouldn’t survive if he didn’t run, but his father had a noose around his neck so to speak. If he left and didn’t take his brother Ruari with him—a shudder ripped through Ronan. He didn’t want to think of the pain Ruari would suffer if left alone with their father.

  Did Ruari have any idea how bad the beatings had gotten? He had to have heard—had to have sniffed out the fear and blood. The silence was deafening in the aftermath. Ronan knew Ruari had been listening to the beating, or he would have snuck in at some point. But Ruari feared their father and would hide, trying to blend into the background and not be seen.

  No doubt, he’d heard Ronan begging for the beating to stop. Hell, half the glade had to have heard him pleading for his father to end his twisted torture. But this area, like most of Roanoke, Virginia, was owned by his father.

  All this because he’d erased his browser history on his Chrome browser last week. But if his father had found what Ronan had been looking up, the Amtrak tickets which he’d already purchased, it would have been a bullet to his brain.

  He lifted his hand to touch gingerly around his eye. By morning, it would be swollen shut. Even if he did have excellent healing properties from his wolf genes, the marks would show. His dad wouldn’t allow him outside with the purple and blue bruises spreading over his face. Ronan could use his test in business management as an excuse to leave in the morning, but his father couldn’t know the truth of what he had planned. If he escaped this house, the management and economics classes and the rest of his college classes would be wasted. He would have to run, and his credits, all his courses would be gone. No one could know his real name or he’d be tracked down by his father and forced to return home.

  He had the tickets he needed, but fear choked him, rendering him unable to act. He had to do something. Living in fear every day, not knowing when his father would be set off, it had to stop.

  Exhaustion finally pulled Ronan under, and in a sick twist of his psyche, his dreams were filled with thoughts of being free. He woke in the morning thinking he had done it only to find he was still at his father’s house, in his bed, pain shooting through his limbs and circling his head.

  He sat up slowly, wincing as pain flashed. Stiff from the beating, he moved cautiously to the bathroom and flipped the light on, getting his first look at the damage his father had inflicted.

  He winked as he brought his hands up, pain flashing, and pointed his fingers at his reflection. “You look like shit, dude.” He chuckled—pain ripping up his core—as he shuffled to the shower and turned on the water.

  The energy needed to shift had been too much last night. Fear hit as the idea of shifting twisted through him. What if he couldn’t?

  He turned the spray on and stepped in, thinking he needed to disappear like the water down the drain. At first, the spray was cold, then it warmed. He let his head drop, and he closed his eyes while he thought about life here in the glade. There was no end to his father’s ire. He had no escape. Ronan had been born an omega, and he had no way of changing that.

  The urge to shift hit and he tried, focusing his energy. Panic surged when he couldn’t make the change. He blew out an explosive breath and then slowly sucked in air, his mind focusing on his wolf, trying to fire the right neurons to make the change happen. His chest warmed, and his fingers tingled. His brain buzzed as the wolf took over, ruling not only his body but his mind. He became the wolf, his fingers and hands transforming into paws. His hands dropped to the tile floor, but they weren’t hands now, they were paws. He huffed out a breath through his nose, but now it was a snout. His ears pricked up, listening for an intruder. None were near. He was free to be his wolf, well as free as he’d ever be living here in this place, hiding in his bathroom.

  During the shift, he felt every cut and bruise as his muscles and skin knit together to form tight wolf muscles and thick wolf fur. No longer did he feel threatened, instead he was the menace. Even though he wasn’t an alpha, he was a wolf and had the bloodlust and desire to defend himself.

  Logic took over, keeping him from running into the den, wet fur and all, and attacking his father. Ronan was powerful as a wolf, but he wasn’t as powerful as his father or his goons. He was no match up against Richard Marks, owner, and CEO of Markell International.

  Ronan changed back to his human form, seeing the cuts had healed enough to be red lines, the bruises had faded from red and purple to green. He soaped up, washing away his sadness along with the soap.

  He had to act. No more sticking around to see how it would turn out, he knew what would happen in the end. There would be no reprieve for him. His father would rule with an iron fist and he wouldn’t be allowed any freedom.

  After the shower, he checked his reflection in the mirror. He still looked like hell. His eye wasn’t swollen shut, but a blue and purple ring told the truth. He couldn’t take any more beatings. He had to act.

  Ronan tugged on his jeans and shirt, then stuffed his bookbag full of clothes. He was smart enough to know his phone could be used to track him, so he left the device behind. His electronics had been his only savior for years, but he couldn’t carry his phone with him, not and stay free.

  His heart twisted so much he feared it would pull his stomach out and forcefully empty the bile all over his shoes.

  With sunglasses in place, a scarf wrapped around his neck, he left his room and walked with his head down, hiding the evidence as best as he could. Thankfully, the kitchen was empty. He stuffed half a box of protein bars into his pack and two bottles of water. He grabbed a new package of over the counter pain medicine from the top shelf and cracked it open, taking two pills, then one more for good measure.

  A door cracked open down the hall sending fear through him. Ronan froze. Would his father hit him again? A shudder ripped through him as he reached down and zipped his bag, hiding the contents, praying it wasn’t his dad up this early. If his father had even a hint of his plans, he would be dead before tomorrow.

  Chapter Two

  Trying to act casual, Ronan grabbed two muffins from the freezer and popped them i
nto the microwave, heating them as he pulled out a pan so he could fry three eggs. He wouldn’t leave here hungry.

  As he cracked the eggs, someone stepped into the kitchen. He glanced over his shoulder, and his dad grunted as he stepped into the room then headed to the coffee pot, pouring himself a mug of the dark brew. Anger, fear, and hate filled Ronan to the point of spilling over as he flipped his eggs too early and broke the yoke. Fine, scrambled eggs it was.

  If his dad knew he was ready to run, if he had any inkling Ronan was done putting up with the crap here, he would get another fresh beating. No one left the great Richard Marks. His mom had found out the hard way, losing more than her home, she’d lost her life.

  Another slice of pain, this one dull from him working the thoughts around his mind too many times, hit Ronan. No way would he ever believe the official story about his mother’s death from the sheriff. The man had said the attackers were from an anti-shifter group looking for revenge. The story was too thin, too convenient. Plus, there was no other evidence to support the sheriff’s lie. The anti-shifter groups didn’t strike without advertising their attacks, and no one had claimed the attack on his mother.

  When his dad had come home that night, Ronan had smelled her on him. The one-time Ronan had said something snarky about the sheriff’s official story, his dad had reacted fast, and Ronan had ended up with a broken arm. They didn’t talk about his mom after that.

  The timer on his muffins rang, and he pulled the plate from the microwave, careful not to look at or get too close to his father.

  “This weekend, you’re chopping the wood for our winter supply.” His dad set his coffee mug down hard on the counter, sloshing the brown liquid on the granite surface. The words swirled between them, the punishment flung at him like the beating hadn’t been enough.

  “Yes, sir.” Ronan forced his voice to stay meek as he used a rag to clean the mess when his dad moved to the refrigerator. Ronan’s gaze landed on the knife set in the wooden block next to the stove. No, not that. He wasn’t strong enough anyway.

  Ronan plated his eggs then took a bite of his muffin, not tasting the food as his mind flitted over his planned escape. He only had to survive for a few more hours, and then he’d be free from the hate and anger, free from the beatings which happened way too often.

  His dad slammed the refrigerator door, and the whole thing shook, bringing Ronan back to the present. He said nothing as his dad grabbed his coffee cup, not thanking Ronan for cleaning up his mess or even acknowledging him again before heading to his office.

  Ronan stood frozen in place as he waited for the click of the lock on his dad’s office door. The soft shuffle of his dad’s feet was followed by a grunt then then the swoosh and thud of his dad locking himself in his office. Relief filled Ronan and he sighed then slouched against the counter, wishing Ruari would come out of his room so they could head to school and get away from this place.

  He was halfway done eating his eggs when Ruari showed up, his head down, eyes averted. Ruari grabbed the milk from the refrigerator and poured a glass. Neither of them spoke. Ronan took another bite of eggs and swallowed before Ruari met his gaze. The apology evident in his brother’s eyes made him flinch. What could his brother have done? He was even smaller than Ronan.

  Ruari broke eye contact first as a heavy blush filled his face. They’d grown up in this hell and didn’t need words to communicate the terror inside. Hours had been spent talking about this; their heads close and their words whispered. Talk solved nothing. He knew his brother’s embarrassment at not stopping the beating had begun to grow again. It didn’t matter, not now. They both had to escape. They could make it on their own. It would be tough, but together they could stay safe.

  Ronan scarfed down the rest of his eggs and muffin, then hopped up, moving close to Ruari. His brother leaned in, resting his forehead against Ronan’s shoulder.

  “I want you to come with me,” Ronan whispered.

  Ruari lifted his head and his eyebrows raised. He gave his head a short shake, indicating they shouldn’t speak. No matter how bad it got, he couldn’t leave his younger brother here, but he couldn’t stay. He’d be dead soon if he didn’t leave. No one would believe Richard Marks was beating his eldest son, heir to the Marks clan even though he was just a filthy little omega shit. His father’s words had ceased to hurt, but his latest barb dug deep every time his father flung the words at him.

  He shivered, and Ruari reached up, touching his cheek. He flinched. Ruari’s eyes widened, and his lips thinned. Ronan pushed his sunglasses down his nose and Ruari’s brows bunched as he huffed out a breath.

  The office door cracked open, and Ruari turned, grabbing cereal out of the pantry. He poured a hefty bowl and then moved to the stove, grabbing the pan Ronan had used to cook his eggs.

  Time was wasting. He had to get out.

  Their dad stepped into the kitchen, bringing with him the cold aura he always produced. Ruari kept his head down as he cooked his eggs while Ronan cleaned the dishes he’d used.

  Dad cleared his throat as he shuffled over to the coffeepot. “You two, I need you to pick up supplies when you come back from town.”

  “Yes, sir,” Ruari said.

  After his dad poured himself more coffee, he turned. Every move his dad made had Ronan’s muscles tightening and his jaw clenching. His dad stepped close and tapped the counter next to Ronan. “You’d best learn to fall in line. That won’t be your last beating if you don’t.”

  “Yes, sir,” was the only answer he could give because his father demanded obedience.

  When Ronan turned eighteen, he’d run but hadn’t gotten far. His father ruled the area and was the leader of the most powerful clan in the east. Only five hours and he’d been returned home. He’d spent a week in bed unable to walk because his father had caned his feet. No one betrayed Richard Marks. But now, it wasn’t a matter of him wanting to leave; he had to go.

  Ronan had a plan this time. When he’d been eighteen, he’d stepped out the door and took off. He’d been stupid thinking others would help him. If his dad had killed his mother and everyone looked the other way, they wouldn’t give a second glance to Richard killing him even if he was the first-born son. When his dad gave him money to go to the store, he’d been taking a bit of the cash, keeping it for himself. He didn’t have much, but it was enough to survive until he got a job in a big city.

  After Ruari washed his plate and they cleaned the kitchen, they left the house. He glanced back, noticing the security guard who seemed to always be around. In truth, Ronan didn’t have a moment alone since he’d run away. His dad paid well to keep him in line.

  The security guard had to have heard the beating, but hadn’t even lifted one finger to help. The guard wasn’t there to protect them like his father tried to sell to people in town, no, the guard was there to make sure he didn’t defy his father.

  The lack of freedom meant they weren’t allowed to drive. One guard got in the back seat with them while the other guard drove the car. He watched the trees race by, praying this would be the last time he ever drove this route. Since he didn’t have his phone, he wasn’t tempted to pull it out and fiddle with the device. Instead, he took note of the landscape, thinking about all the places his mom had taken him as a child. For a while, he’d been happy, but back then, his happiness had been brought on by ignorance.

  The campus was in town, about twenty miles away from home. It was far enough away from his father’s grasp that Ronan hoped he could escape. What if his dad added more guards? He hadn’t today, as far as Ronan could tell. Was anyone following them? He couldn’t chance a look, because it would be obvious he was looking out the back window.

  Fear tinged his thoughts of freedom. He would be giving up finishing his education, his past, any benefits he got from being a Marks, but he was getting his life back. With Ruari at his side, they would make a new way.

  For the whole ride, his brother stared out the other window and didn’t look his way once. R
onan understood. Sometimes, silence was their only friend. If they talked in front of their dad’s employees, the assholes repeated everything back to the great Richard Marks. The fucking bastard didn’t want them to have any privacy. They had no life outside what Richard Marks dictated. He ruled them with an iron fist that would undoubtedly squash Ronan.

  At least he’d been allowed to take college courses. Of course, the motivation had been selfish on his dad’s part. He decided his sons had to know how to run the business and Richard sure as heck wasn’t patient enough to teach them. That was the only reason they were allowed to leave the family compound. Well, it was the only reason he was allowed to go to college. As far as his dad was concerned, Ruari could do no wrong.

  Ronan’s stomach churned as they pulled into the parking lot for the campus. It was game time for Ronan. The car stopped, and the doors opened. Ruari stepped out first. They were followed by the security guards, like always. Though this was mostly a human university, many of the students knew them because Markell was a huge international company.

  Some students moved out of their path, others drew closer, trying to get a piece of the pie for themselves. None of them even guessed that though he was the first-born son, he wasn’t the favored one. Ruari had always been the favorite of both his parents. He didn’t begrudge Ruari the honor; he just didn’t understand it.

  By the time he made it to the cafe on campus, he’d amassed about eight, maybe ten followers. These people wanted things from him. They wanted favors, money, fame. You name it; they wanted it. One of the groupies bumped him, and he drew in a shallow breath as pain raced down his back to his thigh. The strong scent of alpha swirled around him, and his head whipped around, searching. It was the woman his dad wanted him to mate with, Stacy. She had no interest in him as a person, and he would never be interested in her. That was the biggest—well one of the biggest—problems his dad had with him. He wasn’t going to be anyone’s breeder. Life was too short to allow someone else to rule him.