Page 5 of Dark Revolution

Chapter 1

100 Years Later

Stanlion

The Dead Lands

Annora

A cacophonyof sounds assaults my ears as I tiptoe my way through the broken-down marketplace. Rumors say this place was once a vibrant hub, hosting all sorts of vendors from far-off places, but not anymore. Now, it’s nothing but charred shells and mountains of rubble.

The only ones doing business here are those looking to escape the watchful eyes and heavy taxes of The High Echelon. Reaching into my sack, I clutch the illegal tender, my fingers tracing the relief of a long-gone king. Each time my finger passes the tip of the sword that cuts through the circle, I lift up a prayer to Ilaria, the Mother Goddess, to keep me safe.

The suns hang in a sinister pattern, noting the beginning of the year I’ve come to dread. Despite the rancid heat, a cold sweat drips down my spine, setting my body into a shiver. I grab the ends of my cloak and pull them closer, hugging myself with the self-cooling fabric. Edging closer to the marked door hanging askew from its hinges, I hold my breath and listen.

So many more arrests were happening. It’s all I can hear on the Datacom - arrests and executions. My gut twists hard for a moment, leaving me breathless. Bile rises high in my throat, and I’m forced to bite down on my lower lip. I need to be untraceable, invisible, no evidence of my existence.

Glancing down, I see the edge of my designation peeking through: beta - high precinct. The glowing B surrounded by the leaves of my home level is a sure giveaway I don’t belong here. No one does. Inching closer, I pull my thick sleeve down to hide the evidence and skirt past a woman moaning as she writhes about in the fetid squalor.

Within moments, the sickly-sweet stench of her slick reaches my nose as terror fills my core. Where there’s an omega in heat, Alphas or bloodthirsty betas are soon to follow. Why is there an omega here? She should be at the auctioning pits or in the brothels. Someone this precious shouldn’t be allowed to even look at the Dead Lands, much less be in them.

Perhaps she’s one that slipped through the cracks, or gods forbid, got caught out here with failing suppressants - every disguised beta’s nightmare. The brothels and auctioning pits are not much better than being taken out here like an animal, but at least with Alphas bidding on you, you know you’re going somewhere better. The Dead Lands is an unyielding expanse where only the stupid, desperate, and fugitive go. So, what does that make me?

Again, as if by habit, I pull my sleeve lower, ensuring my mark is well hidden. Desperation and stupidity are what bring me here today, exposing myself to the worst of Stanlion, and I can’t go back empty-handed. Skirting back into the shadows, I watch, dumbstruck as a group of males approach.

By their stature, they don’t appear Alpha, but, then again, nothing grows right here. They could still be Alphas, just not massive like the Guardians back home. They shuffle closer, yanking enlarging erections from their piss-stained pants.

Squinting against the light, I stare at the “sacred phallus from which life comes,” my insides twisting as I watch them swell. No female is allowed to look upon the divine until it is bestowed upon by their Master and Owner. Not even betas are spared.

Any found breaking the sacred law is given up to the lower-tiered auctioning pits or the Echelon-sanctioned brothels. However, just me coming to the Dead Lands warrants the same, if not worse; so why not indulge while I'm free?

Unable to look away, I hide deeper into the shadows, becoming one with the dark. Besides, even if they can see me, they will be far too consumed with the meal currently being spread before them. The heat from the suns lessens, and I can finally take in a full breath.

The stench of unwashed male and lust overpower me, setting my head to spinning. Again, I fight with my stomach, pleading with the Mother Goddess to keep the contents from last night down. If not for me, for Karis. I should have worn my respirator today.

It was senseless of me to leave it at home. I shouldn’t have been in such a hurry that I forgot about something so important. If an Alpha had crossed my path, it very well could have meant certain discovery. The drugs only worked so well. Breathing tainted air would be like flaunting my hidden status yet praying to the gods to conceal me.

Stupidity, plain and simple. Pulling at my shirt, I cover my nose, shutting out a chunk of the smells. There’s no way this could work on unleashed pheromones, but it’s at least a barrier. Something is always better than nothing. No, I chide myself. Not forgetting something so important in the first place is better than being sorry later.

The men continue to prowl around the omega, pricks hard and leaking fluid - holy nectar that drenches the ground, drying to nothing but a hiss, a wisp of smoke in the glare of the unforgiving suns. Mewls, like those from a distressed animal, pour from the omega’s throat as she thrusts her hips high into the air in wild abandon.

The men gather closer, growls vibrating the air. Looking back down at their dicks, I notice the lack of knot and sigh in relief. Definitely not Alphas. All at once, they pounce on her, jagged teeth bared, glinting like daggers. Ferals. My mouth opens, a scream lodged in my throat as they claw, bite, and tear through her.

Blood and slick drench the dusty sands, the omegas passionate cries drowning out the noisy rutting of the beasts. Over and over cocks pound into her, drawing more blood and slick. Mother Goddess!

We’ve all heard the stories, been taught the lessons, and warned about what happens between men and women when a pairing is not sanctioned by the Echelon - death, dismemberment, agony. It’s one thing to read about the horrors of mating, but it’s entirely different to watch it play out like those banned films from decades past.

My whole life, I wanted to be loved, cared for, cherished. The scene before me has none of that. Just raw, unabated lust. They consume her, drink from her limp body until blood pours out from between their cracked lips, staining their rags with her essence. Still, it’s not enough. They continue to plunge in and out of her lifeless body, defiling her with every thrust.

A loud cry pierces the air, only to be silenced. It’s not until my brain registers the strong, weathered hand clamped tight around my mouth that I realize the scream came from me. I’m dragged back deeper into the shadows, tears streaming down my face as my brain clicks into gear.

Warm breath washes over my cheek, not gag-inducing like the fetid stench of the Ferals but not entirely pleasant. My body twitches into motion, but my captor must have anticipated a fight. Before I can lunge forward, his free arm wraps around me, stilling my movements with his iron grip.

Memories flash before my eyes of my parents before they perished in the Sector Wars, Karis as a toddler, her bright eyes wide with boundless curiosity, Karis growing up, her soft smile always ready. I long for death, to be reunited with my parents, who showered me with all the love they possessed. It is that love that I try to bestow upon Karis but can never match. Their death was cruel and senseless.

At least mine will be through my own stupidity. They were dragged out into the streets in the middle of the night. Gunned down for no reason other than the misfortune of my Alpha father mingling his sacred seed with a low-born beta. I didn’t know about the sanctions, the fact that they broke the law with their secret marriage. At the time, it sounded like a fairytale.

The burden of their deception should have been obvious. Looking back with wizened eyes, I can see it in every deep wrinkle in their foreheads, the way they froze for just a moment with every knock on the door. That didn’t lessen the depth of their love, though. They gave it freely, always replenished.