Chapter 61
sixty-one
RHYS
The red dot on my screen blinks beside a read-out that chills me to my core.
Signal disrupted – last known coordinate.
Cillian stands behind me, exuding deadly alpha aggression. It was his idea to put a tracker in Briar’s necklace, but I programmed it utilizing the same tech we use to trace the weapons we sell illegally.
These trackers are military-grade. There’s no way to disrupt their signals unless they’ve been destroyed, somehow.
Which means Briar’s abductors not only know about the diamond-sized bug—they’ve crushed it. They’ll likely accelerate their plans for her, too, now that they know we have their coordinates.
Gideon’s coordinates, I note. The last known location is their pack’s penthouse in the city.
Dane straps a rifle over his broad back before holstering a gun at either hip. “It’s Gideon,” he says, not needing to look at my screen. “I knew he was up to some shit that day at the bookstore. Why else would he have brought Atlas?”
I had the same question. Secretly, Cillian and I have suspected Atlas is the real alpha of their pack on a few occasions. But nevertheless, both of them creeping on our omega together never sat right with me.
Cillian’s icy eyes meet mine, heavy with regret. Silently agreeing—we should have taken them out that day. Hell, after the party.
We assumed they would honor Grandfather’s quest for a legitimate heir and find a wife of their own. He was clear about the rules from the get-go—Cillian finding a way to work within them while still securing our mate was a feat of sheer brilliance.
Our pack thought theirs just couldn’t manage the same challenge. I honestly never thought they would steal our mate.
Are they doing this to keep us from her when she needs us? Or use her?
Jesus, which is worse?
“How the fuck do they know she’s so close to her heat?” I snap, shoving up from my chair and ripping a pair of jeans off my bed. Cillian is in sweats—when he reaches out a hand expectantly, I realize none of us are really getting dressed.
We’re going on a mission instead.
I toss my brother one of my shirts and he shrugs it on while I do the same. Dane hands each of us a loaded handgun and three extra clips. His gold eyes snap from mine to Cillian’s. “You’ll stay behind me. And put those on.”
He points at the two Kevlar vests lying in a heap by my door. I lift my chin in return, and Cillian blows out a deep breath. His voice is frighteningly even, especially with the growl rumbling beneath every word.
“We eliminate everyone we encounter. Guards, staff. Anybody who knows she’s there is culpable for my omega being taken from me. No one survives that.”
It seems we finally agree on a lot of things. I nod, stuffing down the thorny tangle lodged in my gullet. Tasting the bitter tang of fear as I shrug my bulletproof vest on.
It’s insane how little I care about being shot. They can put as many holes in me as they want, as long as I get my mate back. Or win her freedom for her, at least.
I feel the weight of that pass between the three of us as we exchange final glances.
It doesn’t matter if the rest of us go down.
We just need Briar to be safe.
Cillian nods silently, then stalks out of the room. We follow, taking the stairs two at a time until we reach the foyer.
Where all hell breaks loose.
There’s a darkly clad figure there, waiting. Dane’s guns come out so fast I miss the motion entirely. One second, he’s beside me—the next, he has the muzzle of his weapon pressed between the eyes of—
Gideon.
Cillian’s cousin bares his teeth in a snarl, but holds both hands beside his shoulders. “Jesus Christ,” he hisses at Dane. “What the fuck?”
The fact that he’s playing dumb pisses me off. I cock my own gun, closing in from the other side and aiming it upward, under his chin. I click the safety off.
“I’d rethink your opening statement if I were you,” Cillian says. “We’ve already decided you’re dead. So from now on, every piece of information you can give us about where you’ve taken Briar is one more moment you get to live.”
Gideon’s mouth twists into a sneer, but Dane isn’t having it. He presses the gun into his forehead harder, gritting behind his mask, “I’ve killed more men than you could count. I’ll gladly add you to the list before you can blink. Start fucking talking.”
Another click turns my head.
Fuck.
Atlas is at the front door, standing on the threshold with his own gun trained on Cillian. Behind him, their other packmates rush up the porch steps. Finn—the cocky, perpetually smirking moron who runs their PR… and their group’s answer to Dane. A deadly, mean-faced man named Ryker.
“Look,” Gideon grinds out, squirming against the iron bar of Dane’s forearm. “Everyone needs to calm down. We—we have—”
“Briar,” I roar, “We know. Now—”
“No,” Atlas calls. His solid gaze lands on Gideon, confirming my suspicions when he barks quietly—the way only a pack leader could. “Show them, Gid.”
Our cousin starts to lower his arm, his hand fumbling for his trousers. Dane lets him but growls, the sound as fearsome as it is quiet.
I move subtly, positioning myself at an angle. Grabbing the handle of my packmate’s second Glock, aiming it at Atlas. Ready to pull both triggers at the same time.
But Gideon unwinds a familiar strand of gold from his pocket, holding up the black diamond–encrusted heart for all of us to see.
It… hasn’t been cut or crushed. The lock was picked open. And… given to them?
Or planted on them?
“We don’t have Briar,” Gideon says, looking at Cillian with sincere rage in his eyes. “But we know where she is.”