Born to be Broken (Alpha's Claim Book 2) Read online

  When the provoked, panting monster spun to face the Beta, eyes full of murder, he found Jules standing, loyal and unmoving as always. Shepherd poked Jules roughly in the chest. "I should kill you."

  Before answering, Jules wiped a trickle of blood from his mouth. "For speaking the truth, brother?"

  Shepherd rolled his shoulders, snarling a defense. "I did what had to be done and sent my mate from the room so she would not have to watch as I pacified Svana."

  The Beta outlined the facts. "In choosing to pacify your former lover, you destroyed any potential for Miss O'Donnell to be your mate the way you seem to wish her to be."

  "And you think given the fact that you once had an Omega wife, your opinion has value?" Shepherd's face was red, his pulse thundering at the bulge of his neck.

  Jules offered an alternative. "The only way you will gain influence over the Omega is to give her what she wants."

  A minute passed, a minute where Shepherd had to fight every instinct that told him to crush the Beta for questioning him. "Explain."

  "Her profile is one of a martyr. If you offer to leave the Omegas and her allies in peace, you have a bargaining chip—influence over Miss O'Donnell you can wield to gain compliance and the behavior you prefer. If approached correctly, I expect that she will agree to return of her own free will in exchange for the lives of the others. Suicide will no longer be an issue, giving you time to progress the pregnancy that may soften her hatred towards you."

  Shepherd detested what he was hearing, but there was wisdom in his second's words. "Is there more?"

  For once, intonation, bitterness, inflected Jules speech. "I didn't only have a wife. I also had two sons."

  There was a hint of remorse in Shepherd's retreat. Ignoring his bleeding knuckles, the Alpha pulled on his coat and left the room. "I shall lead the surveillance of the Beta personally."

  Jules radioed an underling to clean up the mess and repair the wall, as usual, three steps ahead.

  As ordered, Corday had escorted Leslie Kantor to his apartment. The journey had not been simple. In fact, it seemed that every causeway they'd tried to walk contained some obstruction or Follower presence that required the pair to choose another path.

  It took hours of doubling back just to make it a few steps forward. It didn't help that Leslie Kantor did not have a clue how to fend for herself. The female, though charming, had no business on the streets.

  Corday could hardly believe she'd survived as long as she had.

  He did not voice his opinion, but she could sense it. When they were finally sequestered and safe in his apartment, she admitted, "I have been sheltered since the city fell. My family's housing holds a secret panic room that was stocked with enough food and water that I had little need to leave."

  If only everyone had owned such a luxury. Sizing up the woman, Corday asked, "You were alone in your bunker?"

  Eyes downcast, Leslie nodded.

  "That must have been hard."

  "I didn't know my father had been hanged outside the Citadel. I didn't know my mother had been strung up beside him." Tears fell free down her high cheeks. "I'll never forgive myself for not trying to find them… I should have sought my uncle sooner."

  Leading her to his worn sofa so the weeping woman might collect herself, Corday said, "Your parents would have wanted you to stay safe."

  Rubbing her eyes, Leslie sighed. "I will do anything I can to help the resistance. Shepherd must be stopped."

  A smile was offered in agreement. "And we will stop him, but we cannot make a move until we uncover the location of the contagion. That must be your priority."

  "I'll do my best."

  "We can start tonight."

  "Of course. Just let me clean up first." Leslie glanced down at the fine coat that had grown grimy with their crossing, at the scarf, the mittens, and began to strip the layers away. "The scent of your mate leads me to believe you'll have some fresh clothes I can borrow."

  Corday stood and moved to the kitchenette. "I don't have a mate."

  Leslie smirked, coquettish and feminine. "I just assumed… Omega scent is on your coat… and in this room. But I can see it's a sore topic. Forget I said anything."

  "No, it's okay." Gathering food so they might eat and get straight to work, Corday said, "Claire just sleeps here sometimes."

  Leslie bit her lip, eyes sparkling. "And she sleeps in your coat?"

  The charm worked, Corday was amused. "And sometimes in my coat, yes."

  "I pegged you as a cuddler." Leslie stretched her arm across the back of the couch, looking over her shoulder and bantering as if they were friends. "She's a lucky female to have the attention of a man who fights for what he loves."

  With a half-hearted smirk, Corday shook his head. "It's not like that. She couldn't even if she wanted to… or even if I wanted to. My friend was pair-bonded to a stranger, someone who mistreated her. Any kind of physical relationship is off the table for now."

  "Pair-bonded?" The woman went deadpan, cold calculation slipping into her expression. "That is unthinkable."

  Corday gave a sorry shrug. "So you see; it's not what you imagine."

  Leslie shook her head, contemplating something monumental. "It cannot be the case that this stranger pair-bonded to her."

  Corday brought over their rations, plopping down beside his guest. "I wish it wasn't. She's a wonderful girl whom I like very much… even though she's as infuriating as she is sweet."

  Leslie's smile returned, her bearing once again playful. "What is she like, your Omega?"

  Corday gave a small, caustic laugh. "Stubborn; determined to be a one woman resistance."

  Patting his thigh, Leslie warned, "One woman can't stand alone against Shepherd's power."

  "I hate to admit it, but she's done pretty well so far. She's accomplished more than we have."

  Leslie inched closer, fascinated. "How did she stand up to Shepherd?"

  There was little Corday could say. "By simply being Claire."

  The beauty at his side was unsatisfied. "Be cautious of her, Corday. Don't allow yourself to foster feelings. If she is pair-bonded, as you say, then she could never commit to you."

  "Yeah, well… she ain't exactly committed to her mate, either. He made that easy enough by allowing some psycho female to unhinge the pair-bond." Corday scoffed at the irony. "Well, now it seems he woke the beast. The Alpha monster and his lover unleashed a storm."

  Leslie's voice grew lower. "What are you talking about?"

  "Claire broke Shepherd's Omega prisoners out of Undercroft two nights ago." Corday grinned, proud to the bone. "I'm starting to think the bastard doesn't stand a chance."

  "What of the woman? Shepherd's lover?"

  Corday cut a glance at his guest, frowning deeply. "I didn't say it was Shepherd."

  Leslie blinked, the picture of naiveté. "Not in so many words…"

  "All I know is that the woman behaved like your run-of-the-mill sex offender." Reaching for his COMscreen, Corday grit his teeth and growled. "Sounds to me like Shepherd and the Alpha bitch are a match made in heaven—or maybe hell is more appropriate."

  Even with the popped collar of the leather jacket Claire had stolen from Maryanne, it felt as if the cold constantly cut right through her.

  Cold was the only thing she could feel.

  The Omegas were beginning to stir, the shuffling sound of movements soothing. Claire was glad to observe the group adjusting to freedom, even if it was in a reeking dump, even if she was not a welcome part of it. The women had maintained a respectful verbal distance, had asked very few questions, and had been as comforting as they were able.

  That did not stop the troubled glances, though. To them, she was contaminated.

  They could not have been more correct.

  It was unsurprising that wariness should come from the knowledge that she had been claimed by the biggest monster of them all.

  There was only one there who kept to Claire's side.

  "Did they di
scover who you really are, Nona?"

  The old woman wrinkled her brow. "I don't think so. Even if they did, they had little interest in me. Interrogations were only about you."

  "That seems rather pointless." From the sound of it, Followers had compiled a file packed with random inaccurate information. Most of these women hardly knew her, and would have probably said anything they thought Shepherd wanted to hear. Staring dull-eyed at the fire, Claire murmured, "You need to make sure Corday doesn't find out."

  "It's not exactly like he can put me in prison, dearest," the woman whispered, pulling Claire to rest her head in her lap.

  "But when the city is free…"

  "We have other things to worry about now."

  Claire sighed. "I wonder what happened to the others, the Omegas who were bonded?" Were they locked underground as she had been? Were they frightened? "I never saw anyone else. I don't know where they are. I can't help them."

  "Shepherd told me that all had settled into their new place. You were the only one having difficulties." It was a subject that disturbed Nona as much as it troubled Claire. "Did you know he came to speak with me a little over a week ago? Your mate claimed you were withdrawn and demanded I tell him how to end your depression."

  Hearing such a thing, Claire turned green, doubling over to vomit. That was the end of any mention of Shepherd.

  Nona was a modicum of comfort, but Claire felt adrift—isolated even in the companionship of her kind. It led her to stand, to wipe her mouth, and to leave the Omegas' sanctuary without another word.

  Though it was obvious she wanted to, the old woman did nothing to stop her.

  Just like the last two days, from dawn to dusk Claire wandered Thólos like a wraith.

  Her absences were hardly commented upon, but Nona was always there with a portion of rations she pressed Claire to eat. Once she had her dark-haired friend warming by the fire, she would talk nonsense; she would make Claire communicate, until the exhausted Omega forgot to keep answering.

  For two nights straight, Corday failed to return.

  If Claire noticed, if she was relieved or saddened, she said nothing.

  Nona was not even sure her friend had any concept of time passing.

  Claire was too beyond herself, too detached. But when she walked, the city seemed to open up to her—every path leading to some new awful landscape. The buildings were hollow because the dead were piled in the street. Marks of violence were everywhere, roving bands of looters still pillaging as if there was treasure to be found in the decay.

  That was reality—exposed reality.

  Half cognizant, Claire almost found her wandering had taken her right to the Citadel.

  The black specks of Followers in the distance startled her out of her stupor. She drew back with such speed, she slipped on an unseen patch of ice. Heart in her throat, Claire fell into the gutter, scampering blindly until she zigzagged through the first open door in her path.

  It took almost an hour to snap out of her panic, to look around at the wreck of a stranger's home and recognize why every frigid draught filled the room with whispers.

  It was paper bowing in the wind. Overturned shelves, fallen books scattered over the floor.

  Under her hand lay the words:

  He who does not know the evils of war cannot appreciate its benefits.

  Disgusted, Claire snapped the worn book closed to find Sun Tzu's The Art of War.

  She wanted to throw it, to rip every last page from the spine, but instead found her eyes drawn back to the dog-eared pages. Sprawled on a pile of some dead soul's ransacked things, she read until it was too dark to continue. Then she slept, passing another night free of Shepherd, utterly lost, and broken inside.

  When morning came and she woke stiff, Claire rose from her makeshift burrow and walked out the door as if she'd never been there. It was not until she was back at the Omegas' haven that she realized her bloodless fingers were still gripping Sun Tzu's masterpiece to the point they'd gone white.

  She was staring at it like it owed her an explanation for being there.

  Nona crept nearer to see. "What is that?"

  Eyes on the book, the green-eyed waif muttered, "Sun Tzu said to appear weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak." Claire began stripping off her clothes. "Go get the COMscreen. I need you to make me look strong."

  In a building opposite the generic apartment Enforcer Corday dwelled in sat a seething Alpha—one on the verge of snapping. Shepherd prided himself on his steadiness, his focus and dedication to purpose, but at that moment, after bombardment, accusations and indignity, he was not at his best. Where the pair-bond connected, Shepherd felt some strange pulse. The force that burned and stole his focus condemned his rage. The sensation had denounced his actions often over the past months, brought with it severe discomfort. It was discomfort he bore, knowing that the final result made what were sometimes reprehensible deeds necessary for his mate.

  He could tolerate the pain of the bond just as he tolerated the pain of such extensive Da'rin infection. Tolerating being challenged by a subordinate, even if it was a man he respected, was not quite so easy.

  No one questioned him. He ruled the Undercroft, had toppled the Dome's disgusting government, and controlled an entire puppet population. His Followers recognized and bowed to such greatness, and no puny Beta had the right to dictate what was best… as if to share wisdom… as if to say that what he demanded was impossible!

  Jules's insinuations looped on repeat in Shepherd's thoughts, the Alpha dissecting each word, finding the flaws in the other man's argument… determined to prove he was right and Jules was mistaken.

  Shepherd would have his Claire on his terms. Everything would be as nature intended, Jules's idea of consequences be damned.

  But there was a deeper message between the words, a sly list of allegations Jules would have to be corrected for.

  'Infidelity...'

  'You allowed Svana to manipulate you into dishonoring your pregnant mate…'

  All this implied a breach in code; castigation. Jules had inferred Shepherd was corruptible and that Svana pulled his strings. His second-in-command's gall was unspeakable.

  Even aware of his simmering wrath, the blue-eyed Beta stood vigilant at his side.

  Stuffing down bitter rage, unwilling to be seen as less than perfectly calm, Shepherd continued his surveillance and kept his growling to a minimum. Jules would be dealt with for his failure once Claire was returned. As Alpha—the creator of the bond—Shepherd would prove to the lesser Beta that his Omega would come to heel without pointless negotiation or bribery. That was the natural order of things.

  Claire would be found, and she would submit. In time, she would love him.

  But the bond whispered that she wanted to die, that she would find a way soon. And that possibility was the tiny mustard seed of doubt cracking his obstinacy.

  In hindsight, Shepherd recognized that he should have coddled her after Claire's tantrum all those weeks ago. But he wanted his mate to see why she'd suffered the meltdown. She had to admit she desired him, responded to his presence, that things had improved. Shepherd had given her the space to consider such weighty insight—left her to feel the loss of the mate she needed—so that she would know without question what her true, natural feelings were.

  So she would behave and adore him.

  Even Shepherd had to admit that his attempt to condition, his rejection of her presence, must have made his mating with Svana seem deliberate—another punishment.

  The feelings inside Claire once it began, the degradation, it could not have been worse.

  Improvement did not come with time. Her terrible desolation had not abated with freedom or success; Shepherd could feel it flowing from her like an endless bubbling poison. Claire was past the point of despair. It was a thing he had witnessed countless times in the Undercroft—a cessation of spirit. But the Omega had spoken; her eyes had been full of fire when she faced him on the streets, a mar
ked improvement from the vacant figure that had subsisted on air in his den.

  And it was the Beta smiling at Svana that had roused her. Corday was the one Claire had run to, his food she'd accepted. He was the man Claire preferred to him.

  Shepherd deliberated on such an outrage, frustrated further to see Svana playing the fine lady—touching Corday, wooing him gently, all the while digging less than subtly for information.

  What game was Svana playing?

  Svana had a great many strengths, but the Alpha female had a tendency to miss the minutiae. It was for that reason Shepherd was sure she had no idea he was watching, that the Enforcer's apartment had already been bugged… that Followers were listening to their would-be queen.

  As the conversation between Corday and Svana continued, the stiffness of his second-in-command was impossible to miss. Jules found the whole thing distasteful.

  Svana had no cause to get involved, to distract. Her only duty was to keep the contagion hidden and unleash it once their exodus began. If she were to be captured or killed in this ploy, the finale of their great insurrection, of their great revenge, would fail.

  Worse, every minute Corday was stuck tending Leslie Kantor, he was not giving them the location of Claire.

  Her interference was a disappointment.

  Svana's initial displeasure with his keeping of a mate had been addressed, handled, and resolved. Shepherd had paid the price for Claire—a far steeper price than he had expected—ruining the Omega's growing affection. He had even fucked Svana in the same bed he shared with Claire, watching the Alpha female grow excited by the scent of his mate, a thing Shepherd hated allowing.

  Breathless, Svana had claimed their mating to be the most glorious yet, satisfied when Shepherd's orgasm was finally achieved. As always, he'd ensured his knot remained on the outside of her cunt; Svana unwilling to let them be linked in a position that left either vulnerable—a long standing sexual rule between them.