THE CROWN COLLECTORS

EVREN

The cold seeping through Evren’s tattered clothes from the damp floor woke him up before the pain did.

For one disoriented second, Evren lay still beneath the small, worn-out fur thrown over his body, staring at the warped wooden ceiling of the omegas' quarters while dawn crept through the cracks in the beaten-down walls.

Ache spread slowly through his body as he shifted, his ribs throbbing from the beating he received yesterday. Deep bruises marked his sides, and the sharp sting across his palms reminded him of the timber he had painstakingly hauled in the pouring rain a few days ago.

Evren snapped his eyes shut. If he remained quiet long enough, sometimes he could pretend he was somewhere else. Not here in this pack, not in this filthy room tucked behind the kitchen where he slept beside sacks of grains and hunting dogs.

It was his hiding place, his escape away from the hands that wanted nothing more than to shove him down and force him to eat dirt. Sleeping in the main dorm rooms has never bode well for Evren. None of the pack omegas liked him, and neither did the Alphas or the betas.

Being the only male omega in Stoneridge Pack was both a curse and a blessing in kind. A curse because male omegas were considered bad luck and a curse of misfortune on their family.

It didn’t help that Evren’s father had been attacked and torn apart by rogue wolves the day he was born, and his mom had died the eve of Evren’s thirteenth birthday.

And while the pack might treat him worse than they treat their female omegas, they feared Evren’s curse enough not to turn him into their whore. That was the one thing Evren was always grateful for.

They could slap him and shove him around all they want, but at least Evren wasn’t getting used as a sex slave, which was what often happened to most male omegas in other packs.

The door rattles violently as a boot slams against it from outside, and Evren sits upright, his pulse jumping.

“Get up, omega. I know you’re there.” The voice barked.

Evren winced as he stood up, grabbing his side. The fur blanket slid off his body, exposing the thin linen shirt clinging to his deathly thin skin.

Another bang made him jump. “You deaf?”

“I’m coming,” Evren answered quickly.

A wave of dizziness hit him in his attempt to rush to the door, and hunger clawed at his stomach hard enough to make him sway. Evren couldn’t remember the last full meal he had eaten. Perhaps it was two days ago, maybe three.

It hardly mattered anyway. There was a hierarchy to being an omega in the Stoneridge Pack. The Alpha’s chosen female omega was the highest in rank; then came the Alpha's omega whores, the few select that warmed his bed on occasion. And then came the breeding omegas, who were a free pass to any male in the pack. Regular omegas ate last, and then there was Evren, the only male omega in the pack, and he ate the least. And that was only if there were any leftovers.

Evren went through his usual morning routine and then got started with cleaning the stables.

By midday, Evren was exhausted and hungry, and his hands were bleeding. By the time he made his way back to the kitchen in hopes of something to scrape off the plates, the kitchen mistress had ordered him back outside to split frozen roots behind the storage shed while snow fell steadily around him.

His hands trembled as he wrapped them around his middle while making his way back in. If he couldn’t find anything to eat in the kitchen, then Evren hoped he could sneak away to his hiding place and sleep for the rest of the day. At the very least, if he were asleep, he wouldn’t be reminded of the gnawing hunger clawing at his stomach.

“Where are you sneaking to?”

The voice made his stomach knot instantly, and Evren’s legs locked in place.

"Nowhere," Evren squeaked, turning slowly to face Darien.

The Beta’s son leaned against the back door of the kitchen with two other young Alphas behind him. A confrontation with Darien never ended well, and Evren prayed the young Beta would leave him alone for today. At least just for today.

“You missed morning cleaning duty,” Darien commented, pushing away from the door.

“I was cleaning the stables,” Evren squeaked as the Beta stepped closer.

“The omega talks back,” Darien snickered, glancing back at his lackeys who mirrored his reaction.

“I wasn’t—“

Evren barely got the words out. The first hit came fast and hard. Pain exploded across his mouth as Darien struck him hard enough to send him sprawling into the hard kitchen floor.

The omega hadn’t eaten in days, and one blow was enough to send him crumpling. He curled into himself as the Alphas behind Darien laughed. Darien landed a kick, and this time, Evren braced for it.

He knew the rules: always stay down, never fight back and never attempt to get back up until they were done. The good thing about Darien was that he got bored pretty quickly. Darien hurled insults at him with each blow. None of which were words Evren hadn’t heard enough of already.

“You should’ve been born female. At least then the pack could’ve bred something useful out of you. You are but a waste of space. Eating Pack food and you’re of no use to us.”

Evren didn’t make a sound, not a whimper of pain or a word in protest, even as his ribs caved in. He took each blow in silence as his mother’s warnings echoed in his head. “Never let them know what you are, Ev. Never give them a reason to taint you.”

His throat tightened painfully at the memory, and tears spilled from his eyes. Those were the last words she said to him. And she had made him promise.

“Maybe don’t make him look too worse for wear.” One of the Alphas behind Darien muttered with a low chuckle, and Darien stopped. He crouched down to grab a fistful of Evren’s hair and forced the omega’s head up.

“You heard the Crown collectors arrived today? Wonder why the Alpha asked us to bring you to him. Hmmm, heard the pack has fallen behind on payments.”

Evren stiffened. His eyes widened in fear as the implication of Darien’s words registered in his mind.

The crown collectors were an emissary group that collected debts on behalf of the Lycan crown. Cold fear curled in Evren’s stomach as Darien dragged him to his feet and, without waiting for the omega to get his bearings, began pushing him in the direction of the main hall.

“By decree of His Majesty, King Lachlan of House Theron, Stoneridge Pack is now three winters overdue on Crown tribute. Alpha King Lachlan will not take any more excuses from you.” The voices in the hall fell into a haunting pause at the sound of the door being pushed open.

“The debt will be paid tonight,” The Alpha of Stoneridge Pack muttered as his gaze landed on Evren.

“And how do you intend to do that, Felix? You have no gold…”

“I have something better than gold for the Lycan King,” Alpha Felix muttered, interrupting the emissary, whose face pulled into a tight frown.

Alpha Felix rose from his seat, walking towards the trembling form of Evren, who had tried but failed to make himself look even smaller. “A male omega.” Felix began, and humiliation burned through Evren as the Alpha of his pack pulled him forward to present him to the emissaries.

“This one is perfectly trained. He is very obedient, can clean and cook, doesn't require much food and knows how to follow orders.”

“The Crown has enough servants and doesn’t request another.” One emissary hissed with irritation.

“No. But I hear the Lycan King enjoys unusual things. And you know what they say about male omegas.”

Evren stopped breathing the moment those words escaped Felix’s mouth. The implication of what was happening was hitting him in a slow, horrible realisation of what was about to become of him.

“I heard they have the tightest holes one could ever imagine for an omega, and they even drip more slick. They are easy to control in bed, not that this one here requires a bed to be used, and aren’t they just the sluttiest things? And what’s even better, this one here is untouched. I am sure the Lycan King would greatly enjoy taking him about. I hear he does love a fun little plaything to break.”

Evren’s stomach twisted violently, and his chest tightened so painfully he could barely breathe as he tried shaking his head. He tried to open his mouth to protest, but no word came out.

One emissary took a thorough look at Evren before turning to Alpha Felix. “You'd better pray he survives the journey because if he doesn’t, the crown won’t spare your neck this time.”