37. Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Emma
“ Y ou can connect Pack Carmichael to the commissioner. It explains why they want you so badly,” Phoenix says, landing a gaze on me that turns liquid. “Why things have escalated. And why they’ll never stop coming for you.”
This is the knowledge I had without knowing it. Frigid dread fills my veins because the commissioner of the entire police force has too much to lose for me to be free.
“Quickly. Turn up the audio,” Asher barks, the quiet urgency of his command slicing through our stunned silence.
Soren darts to the laptop, fingers flying over the keys. We all surge closer around him, pulling together, as our eyes lock on the screen.
My heartbeat thunders in my chest, each echo reverberating through my ribs, pulse roaring in my ears as dread pools sick and heavy in my stomach.
Phoenix stiffens beside me, his muscular frame tightening like a coil ready to snap, the deep lines in his jaw ticking.
Asher grips me tightly, fingers splayed around my waist, holding me securely in his unyielding strength.
They have me.
Soren adjusts the audio controls, his breath coming out slow and steady, eyes intense and focused, and then voices emerge from the computer’s speakers loud and clear.
I cringe at Matthew’s familiar rasp. “You promised we'd be safe, Axel. You said you'd have her back under control by now. Yet here we are, still waiting for merchandise we paid a lot of money for.”
“Enough money to ensure your loyalty.” James’s voice dips low.
The commissioner gives them a cool smile. “Calm the fuck down. I’ll handle Pack Mitchell myself. My best agents are tracking them as we speak.”
James scoffs. “You've been saying that, and yet they remain ghosts. They’re the best you have, and they got away with our omega.”
The commissioner’s face shadows. “It's only a matter of time. She will be found, and when that happens, she'll be disposed of immediately.”
Matthew stabs a finger at the commissioner.
“If by ‘disposed of’ you mean that bitch is hitching a one-way ride to the bottom of the ocean, you’d better pray those alphas give her up soon.
She knows too much for her own good about you and us.
It’s only a matter of time before she lets something slip and I won’t be taken down by any fucking omega. ”
“I also want a replacement. If you have no intentions of returning her, our pack’s needs haven’t been met since she was stolen from us and my balls are throbbing for omega pussy,” Derek snarls.
Nausea rises sharply, bitter and sour. I clutch Asher's forearm, fighting to quell the sickness inside me.
They are so brutally indifferent. After everything they've done to me, they don't see me as human, not even slightly.
I'm nothing. Less than nothing. Only a body stripped of any value except what they decide to take. I know this. It’s the very thing that has haunted me, but hearing their blatant disregard, their absolute lack of compassion out loud, strikes a fresh blow.
Asher growls deep in his chest, the rumble vibrating against my back. My alphas cluster around me, wrapping me in protective warmth.
“They will fucking pay,” Soren mutters
“Amen to that, brother.” Phoenix cracks his knuckles, restless anger easy to read in every tense line of his muscular frame.
Their scents rise around me, blending and weaving together into a perfect symphony.
The alchemy of their combined presence pours through me, spilling into every broken place inside my chest, gently smoothing each shattered edge of fear and shame.
I breathe them in, letting their strength sink deep, soothing the rawness of my wounds, filling every fractured corner of my soul with quiet, golden warmth.
Like the Kintsugi pottery Phoenix told me about, my alphas’ presence knits my fractured pieces back together, transforming something once damaged into something new, beautiful, resilient.
With every steady breath, my pain softens, changing shape until all that remains is a deep, comforting sense of safety that wraps around my heart.
Complete relief.
Whispered muttering sounds through the speakers, an almost silent raspy voice uttering a series of numbers over and over again.
The commissioner shifts on the couch and the same poor male omega I’d seen at my auction at his feet is shoved against his massive thighs, clawing at the chain around his neck.
“Shut up, mongrel. I told you to be silent.” He returns his attention to Pack Carmichael.
“And I told you to fucking relax. No one will find out anything and if she does slip up, who the fuck believes an omega anyway? In the interest of good customer relationships, I'll arrange a replacement for you. Someone convenient, trained just as well as your runaway—perhaps better. In fact, I do know an omega who will suit. She’s outrun her current usefulness, but she still has holes to fuck. She also happens to be your last omega’s friend. Consider her an upgrade. ”
Rising dread snakes around my spine, sickening and bitter in my gut. Another omega? Someone I knew—someone already drawn through the torturous hell of the Basement? Mira and Leah were my only true friends there. Unless…
My mind goes straight to Leah, but the horror of that thought is too much. He couldn’t possibly mean her. Please gods, let it not be her . Perhaps he means one of the other omegas who suffered. Who came and went as I never saw again.
My mind races, frantically searching for the memory of hidden faces lost in the shadows. I can’t pinpoint who the replacement might be.
Matthew's irritated voice sounds through the speakers. “We’ll need her soon. And we won't be paying. Consider this one an apology. You owe us.”
The commissioner sighs. “Fine. In that case, I won’t run her through the auctions. The transfer can be made privately. You’ll take Leah at the Aegis Gala in five days.”
Oh my gods. He did mean Leah.
Not Leah…not gentle Leah…please, gods, no.
The commissioner stands and the leash goes taut.
He frowns at the choking omega as though he’s only just noticed the poor male can’t breathe.
He releases the leash with an annoyed flick of his hand.
The omega collapses to the floor. His chest heaves as he draws in big, panting breaths, tears running down his cheeks.
“We’ll finalize the details there. Come on, mongrel. Time to go.”
The commissioner starts to walk with disregard for the omega, who frantically tries to keep up. Time stops completely for me, everything freezing in gut-wrenching horror. Leah’s name echoes in my head, drowning out their venomous voices, engulfing me in sudden, overwhelming grief.
They're planning on giving Leah to those arrogant, callous monsters. My sweet and gentle friend, whose laughter once lit up the dim, dark rooms meant to break us.
Leah, whose hope kept Mira and myself alive.
The truth tears an awful, shattered hole straight through my healing heart.
My knees buckle, strength bleeding from my limbs. Asher catches me, steadying me while guiding me into the chair behind us. I collapse into the seat, my breath shallow, fast, panicked. His large hand cups my shoulder, anchoring me in calm reassurance even as my pulse races.
The commissioner strides from Pack Carmichaels’ living room, leaving behind tense silence.
James is first to speak. “We can't trust him. We're taking too much heat over this lately.”
“Axel Turns might say he's on our side for now, but when shit falls apart, he won’t hesitate to toss us out as scapegoats. He needs a pack to take the heat he’s been attracting with this mess and it’s not going to be us,” Matthew says.
Derek begins to pace. “Then we leave. As soon as we have our new omega secured, we disappear.” His voice lowers even further. “We leave nothing behind so nobody will track us down. We settle somewhere new, far from the reaches of law enforcement or the commissioner's fucking reach.”
“Agreed. Another state. Hells, another country. Some place no one will take this omega from us. We only have five days to organize everything. Let's not waste a moment,” Matthew says.
The three alphas rise, their movements hurried as they exit the living room. I’m left with the thunder of my heartbeat in my ears. The four of us stare at the empty living room on the screen as we grapple with what we just saw.
“Please tell me you recorded that entire conversation,” Asher finally rasps.
“Every word.” Soren’s fingers move over the keyboard, securing the recording.
Phoenix scrubs a hand roughly over his jaw, frustration tightening his voice. “We’ve got him. We’ve finally got him.”
Asher's palms flatten onto the kitchen table, knuckles whitening as he leans forward. “This evidence still isn't enough on its own. A single recording won't bring down a man as powerful as Axel Turns.”
Soren frowns, frustration heavy in his reply. “What else can we do? How much more concrete can our proof get than a confession directly from Alpha1465 himself?”
Asher shakes his head. “He can spin words. Claim coercion or doctored footage. Our proof against him must be airtight. We have to eliminate every doubt, every shadow of uncertainty. To truly take down the commissioner, we have to catch him red-handed, right in the middle of the act.”
Phoenix straightens. “Then we get him at the gala. Right there, in the act of handing Leah off to Pack Carmichael.”
“It could work.” Soren rubs a hand over his clenched jaw.
“But the logistics and timing have so many moving parts. So many unpredictable factors. The gala is public, high profile. The commissioner might think he’s protected, that no one would dare confront him there, but we can use that arrogance against him. ”
“Exactly. We catch him with his guard down, with Leah clearly being traded to the Carmichaels. We strip away every possible excuse, every denial. We leave nothing to doubt,” Asher growls.