9. Chapter Nine
Chapter Nine
I push the door open, a flash drive clutched in my hands. I find them waiting in the gray light. I can tell, even from this distance, which one is which. One figure tall, head bent, eyes locked on a spot of sidewalk. The other upright, hands clasped in front of him, no sign of strain. I watch from the shadows of the doorway.
Reeves looks different with his eyes to the ground. Less arrogant, less certain, though it’s hard to know for sure from this angle. I wonder if he still thinks he’s in control, if he knows we’ve found what they need. Collins stands with a sort of practiced calm. His jacket is gone, and the shirt underneath is dark and crisp. He appears untouched, though I wonder how many days and hours they’ve gone without answers, if it has worn at his resolve.
I am still in the shadows, behind the half-opened door. Half-hidden, half-seen, my own hesitation more solid than anything else.I step out, let the light hit me. They look up at once.
They turn to me in the bleak light. There is a jolt in their stance, a tightening, and I feel the tension leap between us. I wait to see which one will speak, watch their faces for any sign.
Collins speaks first, his voice as measured as his stride when he moves toward me. "Ms. Reed." Just my name, but it carries weight, like he's testing the air between us.
"Detective," I answer, matching his tone. I hold up the flash drive, a small black rectangle against my pale palm. "I found what you're looking for."
His eyes flick to the drive, then back to my face. I can see the questions forming behind his calm exterior, can almost feel the weight of his curiosity.
"You found Jensen on the footage," he says. Not a question.
"Yes," I reply, "and he wasn’t alone." Something flickers across Collins's face—surprise, I think, though it's gone so quickly I couldn’t fully decipher it.
Reeves stiffens beside Collins, his posture shifting from subdued to alert in an instant. "Who was with him?" he demands, taking a step forward before Collins's subtle hand gesture stops him.
"A woman," I say, watching their reactions carefully. "Elise Thompson."
Collins's expression remains neutral, but there's a tightening around his eyes that tells me this information means something to him. Reeves isn't nearly as controlled—his jaw clenches, a muscle jumping in his cheek.
"Elise Thompson," Collins repeats, his voice giving nothing away. "You recognized her?"
I nod, still holding the flash drive just out of reach. "She used to be a regular customer. Came in for baby's breath mostly. Hasn't been in for about two months."
"And Jensen?" Collins asks. "How did they interact?"
"Like friends." I hold the flash drive a little tighter, watching their reactions. "They were comfortable with each other, but not romantic. He seemed... protective of her."
Collins and Reeves exchange a glance that speaks volumes, though I can't translate it. Collins reaches out his hand, palm up, waiting for the drive.
"May I?" he asks, his voice gentle but insistent.
I hesitate, something holding me back. "Before I give you this, I want to know what's going on. Why is a missing Alpha buying flowers from my shop under a fake name for six months? And why was he with an Omega researcher who studies hormone suppressants?"
Reeves makes a sound—something between a scoff and a growl. "That's police business."
"It became my business when your partner tackled me to the ground," I counter, my voice sharp.
Collins gives Reeves a sharp look that silences him before he could say anything. Then his blue eyes return to me, studying my face with an intensity that makes me want to step back. I don't. Instead, I hold the flash drive a little tighter.
"You've been looking into her," Collins says. Not a question.
I lift my chin slightly. "I did a basic internet search. It's not illegal to be curious about someone who might be connected to a case that's already dragged me into it."
Collins sighs, running a hand through his hair—the first genuine sign of frustration I've seen from him. "This is a complicated situation, Ms. Reed."
"I gathered that much," I reply dryly. "But I think I deserve some answers."
For a long moment, Collins says nothing, just watches me with those penetrating blue eyes. I can almost see the calculations happening behind them—weighing all his options. Then he sighs, glancing around the deserted street before focusing back on me.
"This isn't the place to discuss it," he says quietly. "But you're right—you deserve some answers."
"Gabriel!" Reeves interjects, his voice tight with warning. "Protocol—"
"Can be bent under extenuating circumstances," Collins finishes firmly. "Ms. Reed has been cooperative. She's involved whether we like it or not."
I clutch the flash drive tighter, not yet willing to hand it over. "So talk."
Collins's eyes meet mine, steady and direct. "Elise Thompson went missing since last week. No signs of struggle at her apartment, no unusual activity on her accounts. She simply vanished." His voice remains calm, but there's an undercurrent of tension.
“So she went missing a week after Jensen did?” I asked, a frown on my face. That didn’t sound good at all.
"That's right," Collins confirmed, his expression grave. "And we believe the disappearances are connected, though we're still piecing together exactly how."
I digest this information, turning the flash drive over in my fingers. "And what does this have to do with my shop? Why was Jensen buying flowers here every two weeks under a fake name?"
Collins hesitates, glancing at Reeves, who looks like he'd rather be anywhere else. "We think the flower shop was a meeting point," Collins says finally. "Somewhere public but not too crowded. A place where they could exchange information without drawing attention."
"Information about what?" I press, sensing he's still holding back.
Collins steps closer, lowering his voice even though there's no one else around. "Elise Thompson was working on a highly classified project at Teria Pharmaceuticals.”
"Something to do with hormone regulation," he continues, choosing his words carefully. "Specifically, a new type of suppressant."
My mind races back to the research paper title I'd seen on her profile. "Neurochemical Inhibitors and Their Effects on Secondary Gender Expression," I murmur.
Collins's eyebrows rise slightly. "You've done more than a basic search."
"I'm thorough," I reply, not backing down from his gaze. "So what was special about this suppressant? There are dozens of brands on the market already."
"This wasn't just another brand," Collins says, his voice dropping even lower. "Thompson was developing a formula that could permanently alter secondary gender characteristics. Not just mask them temporarily like traditional suppressants."
The implications hit me like a physical blow. A permanent suppressant would change everything about our society, the carefully constructed hierarchy that placed Alphas at the top.
"Permanently alter?" I repeat, my voice barely above a whisper. "You mean..."
"I mean a single dose could potentially suppress Alpha or Omega characteristics forever," Collins confirms, his expression grave. "No more ruts, no more heats. No more pheromones capable of influencing others."
The implications are staggering. In a society where secondary gender determines everything from job opportunities to legal rights, such a drug would be revolutionary—or catastrophic, depending on which side you were on.
"That would upend the entire social order," I say slowly, thinking it through. "Alphas wouldn't be able to..." I trail off, looking at Collins, suddenly acutely aware that I'm speaking to an Alpha about removing the very traits that give his kind their power.
"Wouldn't be able to dominate through biological means," Collins finishes for me, his voice neutral. "Yes."
"That would change everything," I whisper, almost to myself.
"Exactly," Collins says grimly. "Which is why certain parties are very interested in making sure that research never sees the light of day."
Reeves makes a noise of frustration. "This is classified information…”
Collins looked over at Reeves, “Which she is already in the middle of because her shop was chosen as a meeting place. She would have been involved regardless.”
Reeves glares but doesn't argue further. I look between them, mind racing to process what Collins has just revealed.
"So Elise Thompson was developing a drug that would effectively neutralize secondary gender characteristics," I say, trying to keep my voice steady despite the implications thundering through my mind. "And now both she and Jensen are missing."
"Yes," Collins confirms, his eyes never leaving mine.
"But what was Jensen's role in all this? He works—worked—at a tech company, not a pharmaceutical lab." I frown, the pieces still not quite fitting together.
Collins exchanges another look with Reeves before answering. "Jensen was Thompson's half-brother. They shared a mother, different fathers. They kept their relationship quiet for privacy reasons. He was helping her."
"Helping her how?" I ask, though I'm starting to form a theory of my own.
Collins hums slightly. "Jensen was a programmer at a data security firm. We believe he was helping Thompson protect her research—or possibly helping her distribute it outside official channels."
"You think she was planning to release it publicly," I realize, the gravity of the situation sinking in. "Bypass Teria entirely."
"It's one theory we're working with," Collins confirms, his eyes never leaving mine. "The timing of their disappearances suggests they were close to a breakthrough—or someone thought they were."
I hold the flash drive tighter, turning it over in my hands as I process this information. "So they were hiding out, and now they're both gone."
"There is that…and in the last couple weeks dozens of Omegas have shown up dead." Collins says evenly.
I feel my blood freeze. "What do you mean, 'Omegas have shown up dead'?"
Collins's expression darkens. "In the last three weeks, twelve Omega bodies have been discovered within a hundred-mile radius. All with the same cause of death—apparent hormone shock."
"Hormone shock?" My voice sounds distant to my own ears. Hormone shock is rare but deadly—a catastrophic reaction when an Omega's system is flooded with incompatible hormones. It's agonizing, from what I've heard. Your body essentially tears itself apart from the inside.
"The medical examiner believes they were injected with an experimental compound," Collins continues, his voice low and controlled, though I can detect an undercurrent of something like rage beneath his professional demeanor. "A compound that matches partial formulas found in Thompson's research notes."
A chill runs through me, raising goosebumps along my arms despite the warm evening air. "You think whoever took them is behind the deaths?"
Collins nods grimly. "We believe these deaths are connected to Thompson's research. Either to silence anyone who might have collaborated with her, or to send a message to those who might consider continuing her work."
"Jesus," I mutter, running a hand through my hair. The world suddenly feels less stable beneath my feet. "And you thought I was a part of this?” I looked at Reeves when I said the last bit.
Reeves's expression darkens. "We didn't know who you were or what role you played. You're an Omega running a business that was repeatedly visited by two people involved in a case about Omega suppressants. What were we supposed to think?"
"Maybe that I was just doing my job?" I snap, anger flaring hot in my chest. "I sell flowers. That's it."
"Reeves," Collins says, his voice carrying a warning. He turns back to me, his expression softening slightly. "We had to investigate all possibilities. But now we know you weren't involved. You're simply caught in the middle."
I take a deep breath, trying to process everything. Twelve dead Omegas. Hormone shock. A revolutionary suppressant that could change society forever. And somehow, my little flower shop is tangled up in all of it.
I hand the flash drive to Collins, the weight of everything he's revealed settling over me like a shroud. "So what happens now?"
Collins pockets the drive, his expression grave. "We review the footage, continue our investigation. And you..." He pauses, studying my face with an intensity that makes my skin tingle. "You go back to your life and stay alert. If Jensen or Thompson try to contact you, call me immediately."
"That's it?" I ask, incredulous. "You drop this bombshell about dead Omegas and revolutionary suppressants, and then expect me to just go back to arranging bouquets like nothing happened?"
"That's exactly what I expect," Collins says firmly. "For your own safety."
I cross my arms, holding my ground. "What about my shop? If it was their meeting place, whoever took them might come looking."
Collins's jaw tightens momentarily. "We'll have plainclothes officers monitoring the area. You won't see them, but they'll be there."
"Great," I mutter. "So I'm bait."
"No," Collins says sharply, his Alpha voice slipping through for just a moment before he reins it back. "You're a witness who needs protection. There's a difference."
I feel a flash of irritation at his tone but push it aside. There are more important things to focus on right now. "If these people are killing Omegas who were involved with Thompson's research, and they think I might know something—"
"They won't get to you," Collins interrupts, his voice dropping to a near growl. The possessive undertone catches me off guard, sending an unexpected shiver down my spine. "I promise you that."
Reeves raises an eyebrow at Collins, who flashes him a dark look causing him to roll his eyes. I frowned at their interaction but stayed silent, not understanding.
Something had shifted between them, a subtle change in dynamics that I couldn't quite identify but definitely felt. I glanced between them, curiosity piqued despite the gravity of the situation.
"So what now?" I asked, breaking the tense silence.
Collins turned his attention back to me, his expression once again professionally neutral. "Now you go back to work, act normal, and call me if anything unusual happens. Anything at all."
"Define 'unusual,'" I said dryly. "Because my threshold has been significantly reset over the past week."
The corner of Collins's mouth twitched, almost a smile. "Anyone asking about Jensen or Thompson. Anyone showing unusual interest in your shop or your deliveries. Anyone who makes you feel uncomfortable."
"That would include your partner here," I pointed out, nodding toward Reeves, who stiffened in response.
"Noted," Collins said, his lip twitching as he glanced at Reeves who had an offended look on his face, but he stayed silent from the look Collins was giving him.
I raised an eyebrow at Collins. "So I just go back to my shop, arrange my flowers, and pretend I don't know that there's a killer out there targeting Omegas who might be connected to this research?"
"That's exactly what I need you to do," Collins confirmed, his voice soft but firm. "The best way to keep you safe is to maintain normalcy. If whoever is behind this believes you're uninvolved, they'll have no reason to target you."
I couldn't argue with his logic, but the knowledge of what was happening—what could happen—settled like a stone in my stomach. "Fine. But I want Jamie protected too. He works with me, he's seen the footage, and he knows everything I know."
Collins nodded. "Already arranged. We'll have eyes on both of you."
Collins's phone buzzed, and he pulled it from his pocket, glancing at the screen. His expression shifted subtly, a tightening around his eyes that spoke of bad news.
"I need to go," he said, slipping the phone back into his pocket. "We'll review this footage immediately." He held up the flash drive, his gaze intensifying as it met mine. "Thank you for your cooperation, Ms. Reed."
I nodded, suddenly exhausted by the weight of everything I'd learned. "Just find them. Before anyone else gets hurt."
"That's the plan," Collins replied, his voice low and determined. He hesitated, then added, "Lock up properly tonight. Don't stay late."
"I never do," I lied, thinking of the countless evenings I'd spent alone in the shop, arranging flowers long after closing time.
Collins's expression told me he knew I was lying but he gave me one last look before leaving, Reeves following him close behind him as they got into his car and then left, leaving me alone and feeling very vulnerable.