Chapter 14 – BANE
Chapter
Fourteen
BANE
T he security monitors cast their sick blue glow across my face as I lean back in the chair, vertebrae popping like bubble wrap.
Three days. Three fucking days of watching the same footage, digging through the same intel, and getting nowhere while my pack falls apart like a house of cards in a hurricane.
The timestamp in the corner reads 3:29 AM. Normal people are sleeping. Normal people don't have their scent-matched omega three doors down, curled up with another man—another alpha—while their own biology screams at them to claim what's theirs.
Fuck normal.
I pull up the Tucson file again, Senator Fairview's bloated face filling the screen. Omega rights opponent. Dead in his hotel room, no evidence, no trail. The kind of clean that takes serious skill or serious luck, and I don't believe in luck anymore.
And the footage from the hotel where he "disappeared" is scrubbed clean. Too clean. Definitely the work of our odd couple.
No links to us, though. No reason to suspect the jobs were linked, which means I know about as much as I did when we brought them here.
"Can't sleep either?"
Elias's voice makes me jolt, coffee sloshing dangerously close to the rim of my mug. He looks like shit—bags under his eyes dark enough to pack for a week-long trip, that usually perfect silver hair sticking up at odd angles.
"When's the last time you slept?" I ask, though I already know the answer. None of us have been sleeping. Not really. Just lying in our beds, staring at ceilings, thinking about her.
"Sleep's overrated." He pulls up a chair, his tablet already open to medical files. "I've been researching."
"Researching what?" I ask, watching him. "Our guests?"
"What else?"
I gesture at the screen where I've got Felix's image pulled up from the Rut Room footage. "Something's off about him."
"He's still refusing treatment," Elias confirms.
"You think he's hiding something."
"I know he is." Elias turns the tablet toward me, showing chemical compounds and medical jargon that makes my head spin. "These are the components found in high-grade suppressants and artificial pheromone treatments. The same cocktail I detected in his blood sample."
I stare at him. "You took a blood sample?"
"From the bandages. I wasn't going to waste the opportunity." He doesn't even look guilty about it.
"So he's using suppressants or pheromones," I say, frowning. "Why? You think he's controlling Juniper?"
The thought fills me with blind rage, even as my possessive instincts find it a compelling theory for why our scent match is following a killer around, doing his bidding.
"I don't know," he admits. "There's no way to say for sure. Not without a better sample to fully isolate the specific compounds. Otherwise, there's too much chemical noise."
I pause to consider this new development.
"Keep it to yourself for now." The words come out harsher than intended, but Elias just nods. He understands.
The door slams open, Archer stomping in with a tray of food that nobody asked for. There's no doubt where he's taking it. The only way to get to the observation area is through here. "Thought they might be hungry," he mutters, not meeting our eyes.
"That's the fourth time today," I point out.
"They need to eat."
"They have a fully stocked kitchen in their quarters."
Archer's jaw clenches, and I can see him fighting the urge to argue. The biological imperative to provide for one's omega is strong, even when that omega doesn't know she's yours and is perfectly capable of feeding herself.
"Where's Carlisle?" I ask, though I already know the answer.
"Where do you think?" Archer sets the tray down with more force than necessary. "Sitting outside their door like a fucking guard dog. It's getting creepy, Bane. Even for him."
Yeah, no shit. Carlisle's obsession has gone from concerning to downright disturbing.
Yesterday I caught him with one of her knives—the ceramic one she'd thrown at me during the fight.
He was just holding it, running his thumb along the edge, smiling that unhinged smile that usually precedes someone dying.
"We need to do something," Archer continues, pacing now. "This whole situation is fucked. We can't keep them here forever, but we can't let them go. And this thing with her being our scent match?—"
"We've already gone down that road," I interject, holding my hand up. "Right now, our priority is figuring out where these two come from, who hired them, and what their dynamic is. And there's still someone out there hunting us."
"What else is new?" Elias asks with a sigh.
Archer looks down at the tray in his hands. "I'll take this to them. See if I can get anything out of them. Maybe even speak with Juniper alone."
"Good luck with that," Elias snorts.
He has a point. I don't think she's willingly been out of Felix's hospital room for more than five minutes. "Remember, not a word about the scent match."
"Yeah, I know," Archer mutters, shouldering open the other door.
"Think the Boy Scout can keep his mouth shut?" Elias asks as soon as he's gone.
I lean back in my chair, my joints cracking from staring at a screen all night when I'm meant to be in the field. "Who the fuck knows?" I sigh. "I'm more worried about Carlisle."
But that's nothing new. I've been watching that psychotic bastard like a hawk from the moment he joined the team. Just because we've saved each other more times than I can count on the field doesn't mean I trust him.
Especially not when we've got an omega in the mix now.
Our scent matched omega and her apparent mate.
Fuck me.