Still, Sidian filed the whole auction thing away for later and settled back in his seat. No use in letting himself get dragged down into the things he was incapable of doing anything about, just another injustice waged against his designation with only a handful of people who cared enough to stop it.
At least he had the best of those people at his side.
Chapter Sixteen
If Roman drove straight to New Jersey, taking the straightest possible route laid out before them, he was certain he could reach the East Coast in a couple of days at most. There were a few dead zones he had to worry about, places where even his limited cell phone signal would drop, but otherwise it was possible. Skulking through small towns tucked away from the rest of the society and choosing motels half-hidden from every main road was just a precaution to ensure they stayed safe.
Working for Ouroboros had taught him there was no such thing as being too worried, too prepared, and he had taken that to heart where some others—like Mal—had scoffed at it.
“I don’t get it,” Sidian told him on their last night in Nebraska, stretched out on his back with his legs resting against the headboard. “Is there someone you’re afraid of running into or something?”
It was a good question to ask. “I’m concerned more about the police than anyone else. Our identities within Ouroboros are kept secret, so no one should know my name or face.”
Sidian cocked his head as if considering this. “So that’s why the fake IDs? Because nobody knows who you are anyway, it’s not like it matters what the card says. They’d have to scan it to clock that you were lying to them. Do you even have an ID of any kind on official record?”
“I don’t. The others might, but I hadn’t taken my driver’s test before everything happened.” Roman leaned his own back against the headboard, unsurprised when Sidian rested a foot on his shoulder.
“So did they have to teach you how to drive?” Sidian asked.
Roman curled a hand around Sidian’s ankle just to touch him, just to feel the warmth of his omega’s skin beneath his fingers. “They did. Jagger had to, in particular. I don’t think any of them were thrilled with me not knowing how.” Though it had been amusing to watch the captain bite back curses while Roman sat behind the wheel, concentrating on not getting either of them killed.
“Sounds like a good time. I still don’t know how to drive,” Sidian admitted.
“I can teach you,” Roman offered, and Sidian hummed but didn’t respond. He didn’t need to know how to drive if he didn’t want to know; they could always find a quiet place with plenty of sidewalks, a pleasant neighborhood where he could stay while Roman handled any actual driving. He wasn’t a car person by nature, but cars were fine. He was okay with driving.
He wondered if the other Vipers had ever stopped to have these thoughts. If they’d ever pondered what they might do with the rest of their lives, should they ever find mates of their own. Did they sit around and think about where they might take that omega to live, or where they might find them? Did they all imagine the breeding centers? It wasn’t like they went elsewhere very often.
Roman should have asked one of them about it, but he’d been committed to talking as little as possible around the Vipers. He had no genuine desire to change that aspect of himself now.
Sidian clicked his tongue, hooking a finger through one of Roman’s belt loops and giving it a firm tug. “Did you ever think about moving up the chain of command?”
“No. I have no desire to be captain. The others wouldn’t listen to me.”
From a distance, Roman could see how Jagger struggled to maintain control of the Vipers even on good days, even after successful missions. Though he was confident he had never given his superior much reason to struggle with him, the others had.
“Who are the others?” Sidian nudged him with his foot again, and Roman wondered if the sudden questions were from boredom. Perhaps the trip was taking too long for his mate’s taste. “Who called you on the phone the other day? Like, what’s everyone’s deal?”
“That was Mal. Short for Malice.” Roman winced the moment Sidian snorted, smashing a hand over his own mouth to keep himself from laughing. “I know. He’s my primary sparring partner. Most of the others struggle to keep up with me.”
The smile faded from Sidian’s face. “That’s because of me, right? Because of what happened that day. Because of going feral.”
Going feral seemed like such a delicate way to phrase it. Through be told, Roman had been more or less able to keep himself stable, but that was because he let himself loose on every single mission. It was where Killer Kane came from; the first time he lost it on a member of the breeding center staff, it had become a tradition to let him pick one target to unleash his frustration and bloodlust on. Just something to feed the violence that had taken up residence within his chest.
He didn’t know what it was in the literal sense. He didn’t know if it was always bound to be a part of him or if it was the result of a young alpha losing himself because he’d had his mate taken away from him.
Maybe now that he had Sidian back, he would get better.
“It could never be your fault,” he reassured Sidian, leaning over to cup the omega’s cheek, smiling when Sidian scrubbed his face against Roman’s thigh. Very possessive scent-marking, he noted. “I’ve got it under control.”
Sidian nodded, though he didn’t seem to believe that. Roman couldn’t blame him for it; it would be something he came to see for himself in time. “What about the others? Four others and the captain guy, right?”
“Correct. Jagger is the captain. He’s older than the rest of us, about thirty-two, I think. Strict and old-fashioned, but a talented trainer. Did a good job with us.” Or as good of a job that could be expected of someone without as much experience as Roman expected him to have. He didn’t doubt the captain; the boss saw something in him, something that Roman wasn’t capable of seeing.
And he doubted he ever would. The boss’s perspective had been created through circumstances and experiences that Roman knew he himself would never have. And he was thankful for it.
Sidian tilted his head so he could dig his teeth into the denim covering Roman’s thigh. “What about the other Vipers?”
“Silver is the one who handles information and file recovery. He tries to name and place all the omegas we save.” Or at least find a safe place to put them until the Vipers could figure out where to ferry them off to next. “Physical paper files and digital files.”
