Pack of lies, p.1
Pack of Lies, page 1
PACK OF LIES
THE POISONVERSE
OLIVIA LEWIN
Copyright © 2023 by Olivia Lewin
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction intended for adults aged 18+. Names, characters, places, and incidents described within are either the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons is entirely coincidental.
Published by Pink Aster Publishing
Cover design by Marie Mackay
Formatted with Vellum
CONTENTS
Content
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Epilogue
What’s Next in the PoisonVerse?
Author’s Note
Also by Olivia Lewin
About the Author
CONTENT
HOLD UP! Is there anything I should know as a reader?
Pack of Lies is an 18+ steamy omegaverse novel with an MMMMFM dynamic and a male omega in the pack (basically, they all bang. OK, not all of them, but there are multiple romantic pairings within the group!)
I write in Canadian English, so some of my spellings may seem incorrect to those who are familiar with American English! (Colour instead of color, etc)
What about content warnings?
This book contains content some may be uncomfortable reading: omega experimentation, non consensual medical procedures, human trafficking, attempted sexual assault (not by a love interest), suicide and the trauma surrounding a loved one committing suicide
To a lesser extent, we’ve also got: violence, panic/anxiety attacks, mentions of potential forced impregnation, PTSD, grief
And for spicy sexual content, there’s: sleep play between consenting adults, cock warming, a little bit of dom fun, almost-public spicy times
While I try to make my content warnings as complete as possible, there may be some things that I’ve missed. If you need more information on whether a specific trigger is mentioned, or if you have anything I should add to my list here, please contact me at olivia@lewinauthor.com
Warnings for all my books also live at: www.olivialewin.com/contentwarnings
ONE
TWO
It had never been this loud at the Centre.
Typically, it was quiet. Eerie, even. Only the gentle beeping of machines to indicate stable life and the electric hum of the building itself, keeping everything running. People spoke in soft voices, keeping their conversations private. There was the occasional clatter when someone dropped a food tray or lost their temper, but nothing as intense as what was happening around me now.
Gunshots rang out, pinging against the metal tables and equipment in the sterile cafeteria. I was crouched behind the food counter where I’d been divvying out today’s meals, trying to figure out where it was all coming from. Twelve was perched beside me, her green eyes blown wide open and her hands clutching my arm. She was new and hadn’t been taught the emergency procedures.
I’d had to go through them time and time again in my six years here.
Though, never with quite this much violence.
Tugging my arm from her grasp, I fought the burgeoning migraine and tried to find the source of the gunfire. There were a couple of different sources, based on the angle of bullets. One was at the back entrance to the kitchen, while another stood in the cafeteria itself. I couldn’t be certain what or who they were trying to shoot.
Us? Possibly. Some of the doctors were in here too, though, shooting back. Dr. Wayford held a semi-automatic weapon in his hands, his aura pulsing as he tried to take out whomever the intruders were.
“Two, should we—”
I cut Twelve off with a silent wave of my hand. If she didn’t shut up, we’d never be able to follow the proper procedures.
She placed a hand on my back, the touch clearly doing something to comfort her, and I stifled a sigh and allowed it this time. The poor girl wouldn’t get herself out without being shot, and she was only sixteen.
When the gunfire waned, I got onto my hands and knees and began to crawl through the mess of torn up paper plates and fallen kitchen implements. There was no glass for us to worry about. Glass plates were considered too much of a hazard.
Someone had broken one once and used the pieces to slice through the carotid artery of one of the nurses.
Personally, if I’d been desperate enough to manufacture a weapon, I would have slit my own wrists. A quick death was better than whatever fate Four had ultimately suffered. None of us were certain what the Centre had done, but we never saw her again.
Nor did we ever see another glass plate.
“Two…”
I looked over my shoulder and used a hand to gesture her forward, unsure of why she insisted on being so loud. The intruders were going to find us by following the sound of her voice, if they hadn’t found us already by our scents. Omega perfume was especially sweet, and if it was alphas attacking us, they would be seeking it out.
A couple more gunshots came from the hallway outside the cafeteria and she let out a yelp. At least it got her moving.
We had to crawl over the body of Dr. Wayford, who hadn’t done a good job of killing any of the people attacking us. His gun still had half a magazine in it. I picked it up, ignoring the blood on the weapon, and slung it around my neck so it rested on my back. There would be stains on the thick, grey cotton fabric of the shirt I wore, which would be horrible to scrub away. Twelve was horrified, gagging at the state of his body.
The door to the main hallway was a few feet away, but I avoided it and veered around the ovens and to the walk-in fridge.
“Where are we going?” Twelve asked.
My eyes shut in frustration as I fought the urge to leave her behind.
Had I been this annoying when I’d been sixteen? By sixteen, I’d been here for a year, so I’d say probably not. I’d learned by then not to ask questions. The hard way. I was trying to teach Twelve the ways of the Centre the easy way, but I wasn’t quite getting through to her.
If whoever was attacking us had their way, she wouldn’t have to learn. Unfortunately, wherever she did end up may be much worse.
The life of a gold pack omega was far from easy, and she hadn’t yet gotten the injection that would protect her. Her eyes could go gold any day now, and her omega rights would vanish in a plume of smoke.
Checking over my shoulder, I ignored her question. There was no more movement in the main cafeteria or around the kitchen, the main battle having moved away.
I reached up and grabbed the thick handle of the fridge, pulling it outward and releasing the latch. The door creaked as it swung toward us and I froze, glancing around. No one appeared from around the counter to capture or shoot us.
With the door open only far enough to fit our small bodies through, I let Twelve go first.
If anyone ever claimed I wasn’t nice, I’d have to refer them back to this moment.
Especially because a hand caught my foot when I went to crawl after her. I cursed and kicked back, but didn’t dislodge my attacker. Twelve was staring at me through the door with her mouth gaping open, and I wrestled against whoever was holding me while pushing the door shut, leaving her in the fridge.
“Calm down,” the man holding me grunted.
I tried to kick him again, but his grip on my foot was too tight. An impending migraine was making me lightheaded, the bright lights in the white and steel room not helping matters.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I threw myself to the side and grunted when I landed on my elbow, a dull pain spreading from the impact point. The man cursed and released me, and I used the moment of reprieve to open my eyes, jump up, and smash the red button beside the walk-in doo
A siren sounded — one long sound — and if anyone opened the fridge door now, Twelve wouldn’t be inside.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t use the escape mechanism for myself anymore.
Which meant I was basically fucked.
Squinting against the bright lights, I finally took in the man in front of me. My gun-handling skills weren’t the best, but my weapon was semi-automatic. If I tried hard enough, at such close range, I could make him look like Swiss cheese. Considering the amount of metal in this room, a bullet would probably ricochet and I’d shoot myself in the process, but the chances of living were high. I reached for the gun and he cursed, pulling one on me.
“Fucking hell, woman. Why would I want to hurt you?” he asked, disbelieving.
I raised one dark eyebrow, gesturing to the carnage. “Look what you’ve done to the rest of them.”
“Obviously I would never do that to you.”
“Why not?”
My fingers twitched, wondering if I should risk it with my weapon.
How good of a shot is this guy?
He looked like he had training, his hands steady on the trigger of the gun. The clothes he was wearing were black tactical attire. He had combat boots on his feet, and various weapon belts draped over him.
While my potential weapon might be a faster way to cause some damage, he had more to choose from. I counted six guns, plus knives, and what looked like grenades or smoke bombs. Whoever was attacking the Centre had come prepared.
“Can’t you tell?” he asked.
His handsome face was scrunched up in confusion, his cheeks shaved clean of scruff. The hair on his head was short and blond, making him look like a typical good soldier. Someone who did as he was told, including killing gold pack omegas when necessary.
“Tell what?” I demanded.
He reached down with one hand and ripped off a piece of his shirt, tossing it in my direction. The fabric fluttered to the ground between us, landing on a paper plate. I stared between it and him, wondering what the fuck he was expecting me to do with that.
“Pick it up,” he urged.
I stepped forward once, keeping my focus on him as I grasped the slightly sweaty piece of fabric.
“Go on and smell it.”
“Smell it?” I asked, snorting. “Why in the world would I want to smell your sweaty, bloody, gunpowder shirt?”
“Seriously? Just do it. You’ll see.”
Raising it to my nose, I sniffed daintily. The fresh aroma of sweat, as expected, and a tiny hint of ginger and molasses. “Wow, you smell just like cookies,” I said. “I’m so aroused right now, Mr. Alpha. Please take me home and ravish me.”
My sarcasm wasn’t lost on him, but it made him more confused. “You don’t… scent me?”
“Ginger cookies and alpha pheromones. What the hell are you trying to get at? I’ve met alphas before. You killed one right over there.”
I gestured to Dr. Wayford’s discarded body, spotting a knife in his belt I hadn’t seen when we’d passed. Damn. Would a knife have helped in this situation? I should have been more thorough.
The man was struggling with something, his grip on the gun loosening and his eyes never leaving me. Reaching up with his free hand, he pressed a button on a communication device I hadn’t seen before and spoke into it. “Reese, I need help in here. Cafeteria kitchen by the freezers. Put your gun away.”
He released the button and heavy footsteps came from the hallway before someone shoved through the door.
It was another man, this one bulkier than the obedient soldier in front of me. His appearance was darker, more haunted. He reminded me a bit of me — a person who’d seen some shit. When he spotted me, he froze for a split second before his foot hit the floor and splashed a little puddle of Dr. Wayford’s blood.
“Why do you have a gun on her?” he asked, his voice deeper than any I’d ever heard.
“You scent it, right?”
“Yes.”
“She… doesn’t smell us.”
This song and dance was getting old. Were they going to kill me or not?
There were so many things they could do to me if they didn’t kill me. Dark bond. Other forms of servitude. I was an unregistered gold pack omega. The possibilities were endless when only the people inside the Centre knew I existed. I bet they thought I could be extremely useful to them. Whoever these people were, they would soon find out I wasn’t.
I could hardly scent them because my sense of smell was practically nonexistent. There was a reason I’d only noticed the soldier had a ginger cookie scent after he gave me his shirt.
Most omegas would be able to catch that from a mile away, especially when the alpha was such a specimen. The new man’s scent was a mystery to me, and would stay that way until I got far closer to him.
Dropping the dirty fabric to the ground, I almost reached for the gun.
Then a door banged open in the cafeteria and I dropped to the ground, unsure if I was going to end up in the middle of a shootout or if the new arrival was another one of the intruders.
“I’ve got it,” a male voice called out. “Why the fuck are you guys…”
Footsteps came closer as I scrambled to pull the weapon around into my grip. His voice trailed off as he came into view, much less equipped than the other two.
This one looked like a harried professor, his clothes rumpled and shockingly normal, considering the gun strapped to his hip. He wore a pair of dark brown, suede cargo pants and a plain black t-shirt tucked into them. Glasses sat askew on his nose, the frames rectangular and gold. His hair was chaotic and unstyled, but practically glowed in the harsh cafeteria lighting because of its vibrant turquoise hue.
“Oh, fuck,” he muttered. He fumbled with some papers in his laptop bag — who carried a laptop bag to infiltrate a compound? — before finding what he was looking for. Shoving his glasses further up his nose, he glanced back and forth between the paper and me. “Our scent matched mate… has no sense of smell. This is a bit of a pickle.”
I froze, my fingers slipping on the gun. It clattered against the tile floor, blessedly not going off.
Scent match?
What were the chances of this happening with the only new people I’d met in years?
To me it seemed improbable, but their reactions to the information the bright professor had given them didn’t look fake. The good soldier was shocked, then horrified. Reese, the bigger, haunted man, frowned in vague disappointment.
“She caught my scent when she smelled my shirt, though,” the soldier said, staring at me.
“Her sense of smell is one sixteenth of what a normal omega’s should be,” the professor explained. “And with her having lost the sense because of the experiments, there would be no way of telling if she could determine her scent match until she came upon them. Um, us.”
He corrected himself at the end, wrinkling his nose.
“Obviously, she can’t,” Reese said. “If Jubilee is done, then we need to go. Denzel? What’s the plan?”
The good soldier ran a hand through his hair, dropping his other one to hold the gun by his side. He’d been casually pointing it at me the whole time, though his finger had dropped from the trigger.
“Fuck,” he muttered. “We need to take her with us.”
Fumbling with my machine gun, I brought myself back up to full height and ignored my throbbing temples. “I’m right here, and I’m not going with you.”
Denzel, the good soldier and apparent pack lead and shot caller, stared at me. “You’d rather stay here? You’re a prisoner.”
“I could be one with you, too. How am I supposed to know what you want with me?”
“You’re our scent match,” he said in exasperation.
“I’m also gold pack, and if you have that file,” I nodded to the paper the professor was still holding, “then you know I’m not even a normal gold pack omega.”
“With us, you’ll never be experimented on again,” the professor said.
He had to be Jubilee, and upon closer inspection he didn’t just have a laptop bag full of paperwork on the test subjects. There was a bulging backpack strewn over his shoulder too.
