“We’ve got to go to the cops. Tell them everything.”
“If we do that, Kaden, we’ll be arrested too. We’ve done too much scamming in our time. Mags created fake backgrounds for us, but that’ll only work for so long before they dig deep enough to find the real us.” Nik sighs. “We have to figure out another way.”
Fuck. If Mags wasn’t going to have a baby, I’d say just let us get locked up for a while. It would be a worthwhile trade-off for getting all these poor people free from their contracts. There surely isn’t enough evidence to put us away forever, but I bet they’d lock Mags up for the duration of her pregnancy. Maybe longer.
We have to protect Mags, keep our identities and pasts secret, and topple a grift bigger than all of us.
“Couldn’t we report this anonymously? They wouldn’t need to know who’s calling it in; all we need is enough evidence to convince the authorities to raid this place and arrest the Langleys.” I stop to think for a minute. “Maybe we can talk some of the other servants into handing over their contracts. If we gather enough of those, then mail them to the cops, this place will get raided, and we can slip out in the resulting chaos.”
Mags shakes her head. “That won’t work, Kaden. The Langleys have this place on lockdown. I’d bet anything that they’re monitoring the mail that goes in and out as well. No, we’ve got to come up with something else.”
“What, so just because the guards wouldn’t let us take the car for a ride, we’re assuming they’ll … shoot us or something? That’s ridiculous.”
Kip’s got a point. What can the guards do if we try to leave?
We argue until the sun comes up, but no one has a good enough idea yet. Everything anyone devises gets shot down, mostly by Mags or Nik. If it’s something that will get us in legal trouble, Mags says “no.” If it’s an issue of physical danger, Nik vetoes it.
As betas, Kip and I don’t really get to provide much input. I understand to a point; after all, Mags is our mastermind, and Nik is our muscle. We’re just … us. Still, it feels a bit unfair. We’re both members of this pack, too, not to mention potential fathers of Mags’s baby. Unless we pay for testing, there’s no wayto tell until it’s born, and even then, if it’s not Nik’s, there’s no way to know for sure if it’s mine or Kip’s because we’re identical twins.
I want to help. I want to help us out of this situation, and I want to help the poor staff members who have no clue they’re going to disappear at the end of the month.
After breakfast, we split up for our individual shifts. Nik heads to his station outside the supposed omegas’ rooms, Mags readies their daily baths, and Kip is on nest laundry duty today.
I’m alone for a while, scheduled to give each omega daughter a massage at noon.
Since I’ve got time to kill, I take it upon myself to sneak into some other servants’ rooms and rummage around until I’ve found a good twenty contracts, all with the same suspicious clause, all with the same expiration date on the contract.
I leave each room just as I found it, minus the contracts. I don’t want anyone to know I went through their stuff, but mainly I don’t want word getting to Mags or Nik or Kip what I’m up to.We can’t expose the Langleys as a group, but what about just one of us? I mean, if I take responsibility for the grift we’re running and the fake documents, maybe the cops will leave Mags and the others alone. It’s worth a shot, anyway, and if I get arrested, well, at least it’s just one lowly beta and not the entire pack.
It’s a big gamble, the biggest, really, that I’ve ever taken—and that’s saying a lot, given what Mags has had me do.
Now comes the real test: Finding out how far the guards on staff will go to keep me here.
With my stolen contracts safely tucked in an envelope in the back of my pants, under my shirt, I calmly walk towards the back door. Through that door is the garden, but I don’t recall seeing any barbed wire or other such hazards on the wallsaround there, so, in theory, I can just climb one of the walls and make a run for it.
One guard stops me near the door, and for a second, I think I’m busted. Once I explain that I “need some air” and “think I’m coming down with something,” he leaves me alone. I think he’d rather deal with getting in trouble for letting me outside than stay inside with me and my fake illness. The same thing happens twice more in the gardens—What crazy person has guards patrolling the gardens?—but again, they let me wander with nothing more serious than a stern warning not to leave the property.
Without Mags here to back up my lies, I break out in a nervous sweat and itchy hives. I guess that’s okay, though, because it lends credence to my story that I’m feeling sick. Who wants to tackle a runaway servant that might be contagious?
My time in the gardens is spent hyperventilating and dry heaving. I do not do well on my own with this. I need my emotional support Mags.
Maybe I should go back inside. I could save the heroics for another day.
No. I have to do this now. Mags needs saving. Kip and even Nik need saving. Fuck, there are dozens of servants and guards who need saving.
I’m the only one who’s got the balls to do this. Nobody else besides my small pack even knows the danger they’re in.
I can do this.
I can do this.
I can … throw up in that hedge before I do this.
Okay, Kaden. Wipe your mouth, shake it off, and do this.
Watch the guards. Time their rounds. Find a good spot on the wall that will hold your weight. Double-check your surroundings. Three … two … one!
The landing knocks my breath out of me, and I lie there on the sidewalk for several minutes, gasping and wheezing, until I feel stable enough to stand back up. When I do stand, I maintain a crouched position, keeping my head below the top of the wall. I run just like that, crouched, for three blocks before I feel comfortable enough to lift my head.
