19. Chapter Nineteen #2
“Emma.” I turn in my seat to face her fully, needing her to see the truth in my eyes. “Feel Asher through your bond. Really feel him. He hasn't closed it off. Have you, brother?”
Asher’s grip tightens on the wheel. His gaze flicks to her in the rear vision mirror. “Never, Moonbeam. I won’t do that to you again.”
She hesitates, uncertainty flickering across her features. A frown forms on her brow as she focuses inwards. Her hand comes up to clasp her chest and her surprised gasp fills the car. “You—”
“Get used to it, Moonbeam,” Asher growls.
“But…they'll hurt you.” The moonlight catches the tears in her eyes, making them glitter like stars. Asher is right. She’s a pure beam of moonlight, glowing and bright and everything good in this world. And she’s ours .
We’re not worthy. Not even close, but like the greedy bastard I am, I’ll take everything she’ll give us.
“Let them try,” Phoenix says with a fierce grin that holds more wolf than humor. “Some things are worth everything to fight for. ”
“That’s you, if Phoenix isn’t clear enough,” I add, letting my own conviction color the words. “You’re worth everything, Omega. The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be.”
Emma's lower lip trembles, as her gaze darts between us. “I don't understand you. Any of you. You're nothing like...”
“Nothing like the alphas you've known?” I finish when she trails off. “Good. That's exactly how it should be.”
Her shoulders relax slightly, some of the tension easing from her frame.
“Emma.” Asher's voice is gentle but carries an undercurrent of pain. I feel how much this question costs him through our pack bond. “Why were you in the pool?” He can't seem to ask the next question, his throat working around words too painful to voice. Were you trying to end things?
“I thought...” She presses closer to Phoenix as if seeking an anchor in reality.
“Thought what, Moonbeam?” Asher prompts. “Is this anything to do with the beach you told us about?”
Her eyes flare. “I did?”
“In the shower. You asked us if you were at your beach,” I say.
She's quiet for so long I think she won't answer. Her fingers play with the edge of the blanket. When she finally speaks, her voice is a whisper barely audible over the hum of the engine.
“I always wanted to see the beach. The waves, the sand...” Her voice catches.
“Any beach, but…I don't know if I imagined it right.
I've never actually been. I just... made it up in my head. Made it perfect.” The admission costs her something vital, like sharing this dream makes her more vulnerable than being naked in our arms. “It was better than being…there.”
The pieces click into place, confirming what I'd suspected from her behavior.
A dissociative episode, triggered by the perfect storm of stress and heat hormones.
Her mind created an escape when reality became unbearable, crafting a sanctuary of sand and sea where no alpha could reach her.
The beach became her safe place during whatever horrors Pack Carmichael inflicted.
Tonight, confused by heat and overwhelmed by new sensations both pleasant and terrifying, her mind sought that familiar comfort.
“That took a lot of courage. Thank you for telling us.” Phoenix tilts her head, wiping away the tears that leave silvery tracks down her cheek before pressing a kiss to her skin.
Her eyes flicker closed and stay shut.
She’s exhausted, and sharing this vital piece of herself has cost her. This is a gift, one given because she has a tiny kernel of trust. Every vulnerability she reveals is an act of courage that humbles me.
An hour later, Asher pulls up in front of the chop shop.
We know it well, hidden in plain sight, masquerading as an auto repair business.
Mickey owes me after I kept his omega sister out of Haven's clutches last year, hiding her instead of dropping her off at the vultures’ feet.
His operation isn't pretty, but it's efficient and, more importantly, discreet. He’s thankful we didn’t bring him down, opting to keep his business operational.
Besides, in our eyes, he did nothing wrong.
Never in a million years would I suspect his brand of help would be for our omega.
Phoenix stays with Emma while I talk to Mickey.
The sound of power tools and the acrid smell of paint fill the pre-dawn air as they switch plates and VINs.
Within twenty minutes, we're in a nondescript gray sedan.
The kind of vehicle that becomes invisible in city traffic.
Next we find the internet café, nearly empty at this hour.
Just a couple of night shift workers nursing cold coffees.
I make sure my hood covers my head as I slide into a seat and power up a computer.
My hands shake from exhaustion as I route through three VPNs before initiating contact with Cole.
It’s just before six in the morning but I know Cole wakes up early to get in an hour of gym time before work.
Thank fuck this morning is no different.
The response is immediate, green text appearing on the black screen: Secure channel established.
I close my eyes in relief that Cole is as close to an insomniac as a man can get.
My fingers stumble over keys, the aftermath adrenaline making them clumsy.
ME: Cole, we need immediate assistance. The police safe house was compromised and we’re on the run. Emma is with us, but the situation is critical.
COLE: Fuck! How the hell did that happen? Are you all alright? Where the hell are you now?
Questions we’d like to know and will go out of our way to find out. The compound should have been secure, not only from infiltration but from double-crossing as well.
ME: I’m in a secure internet cafe. A strike team was sent to the compound. We suspect to retrieve Emma. We suspect inside help at department level. We can't trust anyone in the force. We just made it out. We're running dark. Ditched phones, badges, everything traceable.
COLE: You're sure about department involvement?
ME: We discovered one of our own on the attack team. Carl Jones.
The list of people who will pay for their crimes against Emma is growing by the minute alongside Pack Carmichael and Axel Turns, Carl Jones is right after them. Cole won’t leave that stone unturned now I’ve named him.
ME: We need somewhere to stay off-grid. Emma’s experiencing heat spikes and is vulnerable. We don’t trust anyone else to ask.
COLE: You don’t do things by halves, do you?
Okay, we have somewhere you can hole up.
It’s our own private out-of-town residence and completely off grid.
4891 Riverside Drive in Benton. Entry code 47392.
The house is stocked with everything an omega might need.
Blankets, pillows, clothing. We left it that way in case Mira needed anything if we ever went there.
Use whatever you need. I’ll organize supplies so we can contact each other.
There’s a discreet drop box at the main gate of the property.
I’ll have them left there so no one needs to enter.
All the devices will be encrypted. Just give me a couple of hours to put everything you’ll need together.
Benton is only an hour's drive away. Relief blisters through me. I knew having money put a person at the top of the food chain and never have I been more relieved Asher made friends with Adrian Blackstone at university.
ME: We owe you.
COLE: Before you go, there’s more. I sorted through Haven’s records for anything regarding Emma. Soren, I found her death certificate dated the day our omegas escaped Haven. Mercer personally signed her death certificate and listed it as a broken neck after falling on a group hike.
I work to sit still and not throw every single terminal in reach through the café window.
ME: She was sold at one of their perverted auctions.
COLE: Exactly, but where I’ve been able to trace the money into Mercer’s account from other sales, there’s nothing relating to Emma. No money trail. No name. She simply vanished from the system.
I stare at the blinking light, grinding my teeth hard enough to snap my molars.
The money trail leading back to The Haven Institute is one of the main pieces of evidence against Mercer and how we’ve managed to shut the Institute down under further investigations.
No government official was willing to lose their job over it not happening.
Not with the public outcry so loud. It’s our one piece of light in this whole mess.
If only we could implicate Evelyn Hardwick and Axel Turns, this nightmare would be a long way toward being over for many people.
ME: There’s no trace of her being sold to Pack Carmichael?
COLE: I found paperwork, and it’s been signed off. Just not by a legible signature.
Who would have the power, apart from Mercer and Hardwick if she was stupid enough to use her signature, to transfer omega ownership?
ME: It looks like she bypassed their usual systems. There has to be a money trail somewhere. Money would have been exchanged for Emma’s sale because ownership papers exist. Is there a way you can send me the papers? I might be able to decipher the signature.
I send the message and type out another on its heels.
ME: Another thing to look into. I found a message stream between Carl Jones and an Alpha1465 who looked to have orchestrated our attack. I had to ditch the phone so I can’t give you the SIM. I know it’s not much to go on, but can you see if you can make any connections?
COLE: Done. The paperwork will be on the computer and phone with the pack for Emma. Soren, I have other news about Emma you’re going to want to know.
My stomach churns because any news Cole has regarding Emma I know I’m not going to like.
ME: Anything you have will only help. Hit me.
COLE: Mira told you Emma was the sole daughter of beta parents, and she was orphaned before being taken to Haven just after she presented as omega.
When Mira came to the hospital to see Emma, she also spent time giving us as much information about Emma as she had in a bid to help her friend, something for which we’re all eternally grateful.
The three omegas were kept in Haven’s Basement and suffered despicable abuse from Mercer and Hardwick.
I make a mental note to add Hugo and Lars to my shit-list. Fuckers just keep lining up.
I keep my eyes on the screen as the green letters appear.
COLE: Her parents perished in an automobile accident.
I sit straighter in the chair, leaning toward the screen as my heart begins to drum a staccato beat in my chest. Mira’s parents died in a car accident. As did Thomas Richardson and his pack.
COLE: I found the incident report buried under a ton of paperwork because Emma is officially dead. It was listed as brake failure and also signed by Sylvia Mercer.
Holy fuck. That’s too much to be a coincidence. I stare at the screen, rage strobing white across my vision. I run my hand down my face, feeling the weight of the world pressing on my shoulders.
ME: Thanks, Cole. Going dark. I’ll contact you when it’s safe.
I’ll be doing my own digging with the top-of-the-line encrypted devices Cole promised to deliver. I don’t care if we’re no longer following protocol. That was ripped out of my hands when our own turned on us. The world and everything in it can go to hell if it means keeping Emma safe.
COLE: Watch your backs.
The chat thread goes dark, and I make sure the message thread is unsaved and unrecorded.
I stare at the black screen, nausea burning the back of my throat as pieces begin to form a bigger and more horrific picture than I could have imagined.
Haven didn't just traffic omegas.
They murdered for them, and the trail leads to someone lurking in the dark—choosing vulnerable omegas and turning them into orphans by design.