6. Ren
Chapter 6
Ren
A shgrave’s words cling to my spine like a blade I can’t dislodge.
You’re gonna get them all killed, Ironwood.
The file burns in my grip as I push through the club’s back exit into the alley. I should feel something—dread, fury, anything—but all that’s left is a hollowed-out numbness as the name Ashgrave whispered circles my skull like a vulture.
Him .
Of course, it’s him.
The cool night air hits my face, but does nothing to clear the fog in my head. My lungs feel too small, my skin too tight. The world tilts slightly, and I brace a hand against the alley wall, my fingers automatically finding the ridge of scar tissue beneath my shirt where my ribs were once shattered.
“Ren.”
Jax’s voice cuts through the static. I don’t turn. Can’t. If I look at him—at either of them—I’ll shatter completely.
Stone isn’t so patient. His hand lands heavy on my shoulder, spinning me around until my back hits brick.
“ What the fuck was that ?” he demands, face inches from mine. “Since when do you make deals with packs like Ashgrave in strip clubs?”
His scent—alpha rage, burnt pine—suffocates me, pressing in from all sides. I bare my teeth, shoving him back hard enough to make him stumble.
“You wanted to know my world?” The laugh that escapes me sounds unhinged even to my own ears. “This is my world. Backroom deals and blood debts. Welcome to it.”
“And what exactly did you promise them?” Stone snarls, recovering his balance. “Your father ? What does that even mean ?”
“When I found that basement, I wasn’t stupid enough to think I could handle it alone,” I say, meeting his gaze steadily. “On that list of omegas my parents were keeping, there was an Ashgrave. Missing for years. One of the Ashgrave pack alpha’s cousins. So I reached out.”
I shift my weight, watching his reaction. “The Ashgraves don’t care about politics or taking sides. They only care about their own. I offered them what they wanted most, and in exchange, they helped me get everyone out. They’re still helping me.” A bitter smile touches my lips. “Some debts can’t be explained. Some sins can’t be confessed. But the Ashgraves understand transactional relationships better than anyone.”
The silence that follows feels like a physical weight. Stone’s expression shifts from anger to something worse—realization. Jax doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, just stares at me like he’s seeing a stranger wearing my face. I told them everything on the drive over, but it’s still shocking them. Every moment, something else is revealed.
All these years, all those nights I’d disappeared with vague excuses, all the times I’d shown up with unexplained injuries. The puzzle pieces are finally falling into place for them.
In that heavy quiet, I can almost hear the foundations of our friendship cracking. And I deserve it.
But I’m not hiding anymore.
Jax steps between us, his gaze flicking to where my fingers dig into my chest. To the scars he’s only glimpsed when we all fuck.
“We need to move,” he breathes, his calm a counterpoint to Stone’s rage. “Before someone sees us here.”
Stone’s nostrils flare, but he backs off, his eyes never leaving mine. “This isn’t over.”
No, it isn’t. It’s barely begun.
The drive is silent save for the rustle of papers as I examine the file Ashgrave gave us. The SUV reeks of violence and unspoken questions, tension thick enough to cut.
“Start talking,” Stone finally says from the driver’s seat, knuckles gripping the wheel. “What’s in the file?”
I exhale slowly, fighting to keep my voice steady. “A facility. About forty minutes north of the city.”
“A warehouse?” Jax asks, brow furrowed.
I shake my head. I spread the schematics across my lap. “It’s a private medical research facility owned by Heath. On paper, it develops pharmaceuticals. Off the books…”
“It’s one of the Academies,” Jax finishes, leaning forward to study the blueprints.
“No,” I correct him. “She wouldn’t be that stupid. This is probably where they take the ones who need…special attention.” My stomach turns at the euphemism. “The ones who know too much.”
The ones like Hailey.
The facility is a fortress—armed guards, security cameras, a private helipad. And there, on the basement level, a series of rooms marked “Containment.”
“Jesus Christ,” Jax murmurs, tracing the outline with his finger. “This is…”
“Military-grade security,” I finish for him. “Biometric locks. Motion sensors. The works. Why would she need all that to make Botox?”
Jax’s jaw ticks.
Then his gaze shifts up from the papers to me, eyes narrowing. “You’ve been working on this. Long before tonight.”
I hold his stare. “Yes.”
The silence stretches between us, heavy with implications.
“Who was it?” Jax finally asks, voice barely above a whisper. “Who bought her?”
I hesitate, then slide a document from between the blueprints. Their eyes track my movement as I pass it to Jax. I watch his face as he reads the name. Watch as the blood drains from his features.
“They call him Cee,” I say quietly. “He was there tonight. At the gala. Standing right in front of us, and we had no idea.”
Stone’s fist goes through the glove compartment with a crack of plastic and metal. “You’re telling me that asshole bought Hailey?” The question hangs raw in the air. “I know where he lives. Let’s go there now?—”
“No.” The word leaves my mouth like a bullet.
Stone’s head snaps toward me. “ No? ”
I meet his gaze steadily. “We do this my way, or we bury her.”
“Fuck you,” Stone growls, but there’s uncertainty beneath the anger. “You don’t get to decide?—”
“I just did.” I cut him off, forcing steel into my voice. “You want to go after him? Fine. But he won’t be there. He’ll be somewhere with witnesses, with alibis, with lawyers ready to crucify anyone who comes at him.” I tap the facility blueprint. “This is where Hailey is. This is where we go.”
Jax exhales slowly, the sound unnaturally loud in the silence of the vehicle.
“He’s right, Stone,” he says finally. “If we go in blind, if we target the wrong place or the wrong person…”
“Finn’s alone,” Stone interrupts, his voice barely human. “He’s been alone for too long now. What if he wakes up and we’re not there? What if?—”
The words hit me like slaps across the face. My chest cracks open. Finn’s gray eyes wide with pain and confusion, machines beeping around him, no one to hold his hand, no one to tell him it’s going to be okay.
But Hailey’s time is running out faster.
“One of us needs to go to him,” I whisper.
Stone’s jaw works as he processes what I’m asking. His eyes close briefly, a muscle jumping in his cheek as the vehicle continues down the highway. When he opens them again, they’re full of a pain so raw it makes me flinch.
“I’ll stay with Finn,” he grinds out. “But if you’re not back by dawn, I’m coming for you both.”
It’s not agreement. It’s not even acceptance. It’s a temporary ceasefire in a war we never wanted to fight.
“Stone—” Jax begins, but Stone cuts him off with a sharp gesture.
“Don’t.” His voice is glacial. “Okay, fuck. I don’t need your fucking level-headed pack leader bullshit right now, Jax.” He pulls the SUV over to the shoulder, the tires crunching on gravel. “You need to switch vehicles anyway. Heath’s people will be looking for this one.”
He’s right. The knowledge settles like lead in my gut. We’ve been so focused on finding Hailey that we’ve been sloppy. The SUV is registered to us. It’s a beacon, a flashing light announcing our approach.
“There’s a garage three blocks from the hospital,” I say. “I have access to clean cars there.”
Stone’s gaze lands on mine through the rearview. He lets out a sigh, a strange laugh on his lips, but he doesn’t argue.
“Of course, you do.” He shakes his head. “I’ll drop you off nearby.” His eyes meet mine in the rearview again. “Don’t make me regret this, Ren.”
I don’t answer. I can’t promise what he wants to hear.
The garage is exactly as I remember it—concrete floors stained with oil, flickering fluorescent lights, the smell of rubber and gasoline. A place designed to be forgotten.
Jax watches silently as I punch a code into a keypad hidden behind a loose panel in the wall. The door to the private section slides open with a hydraulic hiss.
“How long have you had this place?” he asks as we step inside.
“Since I found out my life was built on lies and smoke,” I answer honestly. “Since before Finn.”
The private bay houses four vehicles—a nondescript sedan, a delivery van, a motorcycle, and a black SUV with military-grade armor plating. I head straight for the SUV.
“This one,” I say, opening the driver’s door. “Keys are in the visor.”
Jax circles the vehicle, his expression unreadable. “Is this…armor plating? Bulletproof glass. Run-flat tires?” He runs a hand over the hood. “You’ve been planning for this day for a long time.”
It’s not a question, but I answer anyway. “Yes.”
“Were you ever going to tell us?”
“No.”
He looks up sharply, hurt flashing across his features. I force myself to hold his gaze.
“I never wanted this for you,” I say quietly. “For any of you. This was my fight.”
“It’s our fight now,” Jax says firmly. “Hailey is pack. Finn is pack.” His eyes narrow. “And so are you, whether you like it or not.”
Something breaks loose in my chest, a shard of ice that’s been lodged there for longer than I can remember. I look away, unable to bear the weight of his loyalty.
“We need to gear up,” I say instead of acknowledging his words. I move to the back of the garage, where a heavy metal cabinet stands against the wall. Another keypad, another code. The doors swing open to reveal an arsenal.
Jax whistles low. “Jesus, Ren.”
I pull out what we need—body armor, comms, extra magazines for the handgun I’m already carrying. And my personal favorite: a matte black combat knife with an edge sharp enough to split atoms.
“Take your pick,” I tell him, stepping aside to give him access to the weapons. “But nothing that’ll slow you down. We’re going for stealth, not shock and awe.”
While Jax selects his gear, I strip off my ruined suit jacket and dress shirt. The cool air raises goosebumps along my arms and chest, highlighting the network of scars that map my personal history of violence—the ones from the underground fights, the ones from more…private lessons at Father’s hands. The ones from the night I tore everything apart to get the omegas out. And the scars from the night Finn…
I catch Jax staring at the worst of them—a jagged line that runs from just below my collarbone to my hip. He’s seeing them in new light now.
“Don’t ask,” I warn him.
“Wasn’t planning to,” he lies, turning away to focus on shedding his formal wear and strapping a shoulder holster into place.
I pull on a black compression shirt, then a tactical vest over it. The weight is familiar, comforting in its way. I’ve done this before. I can do it again.
“Once we get to the facility,” I say as I check my weapons one last time, “we’ll need to disable the perimeter sensors before we can approach. There’s a service entrance on the east side—less security, easier access to the lower levels.”
Jax nods, all business now. “And once we’re in?”
“We find Hailey, neutralize any threats, and get the hell out.” I slide the knife into its sheath at my ankle. “Simple.”
“Simple,” Jax echoes, his tone making it clear he doesn’t believe it for a second. “And if we run into our…friend? The one Ashgrave named? Or Heath?”
I freeze, the name echoing through my skull again. The man who bought Hailey like she was merchandise. The man who was at that very gala, sizing her up, and none of us even knew.
“If we see him,” I say, my voice dropping to a register I barely recognize, “he’s mine.”
Jax’s expression darkens. “You don’t get to handle him alone. Hailey is our mate.”
“And he is my debt to settle.” I slam the weapons cabinet shut with more force than necessary. “There’s history there you don’t understand.”
“Then make me understand,” Jax challenges, stepping closer. “Because I’m not walking into that hellhole blind, Ren. There’s too much to lose.”
I consider shutting him down, using the alpha command that’s been my birthright. But I’m tired of secrets. Tired of carrying this alone.
“He was like family,” I say, the words bitter on my tongue. “That fucker was Father’s friend, my mother’s favorite dinner guest.”
“He’s a lone alpha.”
I laugh, the sound hollow. “Yeah. But now we know that’s for a reason and not because the fucker doesn’t want to align with a pack.”
Jax is quiet for a long moment, processing. Then: “What did you mean when you told Ashgrave they could have your father?”
I close my eyes briefly. “Exactly what it sounded like, Jax.”
“Fuck.”
“Ashgrave wants Father dead. Has for years since I helped them get their omega cousin back.”
“Ren—”
“It’s not negotiable.” I cut him off. “Father…what he’s done, what he’s responsible for…you should have seen that basement, Jax. You have no idea.” The nightmares I still have, the memories that won’t fade. The constant worry that they’d still come after Finn. “It’s a price I’m willing to pay.”
“To get Hailey back?”
“To end this.” I meet his gaze again, letting him see everything I’ve hidden for so long—the rage, the pain, the terrible resolve. “Once and for all.”
Jax holds my stare, searching for something. Whatever he finds seems to satisfy him. He nods once, then turns to finish securing his weapons.
“For what it’s worth,” he says over his shoulder, “I think Stone would agree. About your father.”
The acceptance in his voice nearly undoes me. I swallow hard, shoving the emotion down where it belongs.
“Let’s go,” I say, heading for the SUV. “We’ve got a long drive ahead.”
The facility looms in the distance, a sleek monstrosity of glass and steel set back from the road, surrounded by a high fence topped with razor wire. From the outside, it could be any high-end research lab—clean lines, manicured grounds, discreet security.
But I know what lies beneath that polished facade. We all do now.
Jax parks the SUV in a dense copse of trees half a mile from the main gate, out of sight of the security cameras. The night is cool, the moon occasionally visible through gaps in the cloud cover. Not ideal conditions for stealth, but we work with what we have.
Jax checks his weapons one last time. “Remember the plan,” he says quietly. “In and out. No fireworks, like you said.”
I don’t answer. Now that I’m here, now that I’m so close, my pulse thrums in my teeth, the familiar rush of adrenaline narrowing my focus to a laser point. Somewhere in that building, Hailey is fighting for her life.
And I’m coming to burn it all down.
“Ren,” Jax tries again, his hand landing on my arm. “I need to know you’re with me on this. That you’re not going to go off-script the moment we’re inside.”
I glance at his hand, then at his face. “There is no script, Jax. There’s just us, them, and Hailey in the middle.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting.” I pull away from his grip and open the door. “I’ll disable the perimeter sensors. You cover me.”
The night swallows us as we move through the trees toward the fence. Every step brings me closer to a past I’ve tried to escape, to a world I swore I’d destroy. Every breath is a reminder of what’s at stake.
Hailey. Finn. Our pack.
They’re my family.
If they’ll have me after this.
The thought stops me in my tracks. After this…
What happens after this? Do we just go back to normal? Impossible.
“Ren?” Jax whispers from behind me. “What is it?”
I shake my head, pushing the thought away. “Nothing. Just…planning our approach.”
We reach the edge of the tree line; the fence looming before us. Beyond it, the facility’s windows glow with soft light, a beacon in the darkness. Deceptively peaceful. Deceptively normal.
I pull out a pair of wire cutters and begin working on the fence. The metal parts easily under the sharp blades, creating a hole just large enough for us to slip through.
“Security cameras?” Jax murmurs as we crouch by the opening. “We’re novices, Ren, not a fucking SWAT team. We have one shot at this.”
I point to a small black box mounted on a nearby pole. “Motion sensors linked to those cameras. Give me two minutes.”
I hear him murmur something about apparently not all of us being novices as I move quickly. I approach the pole, keeping low to the ground. The sensor is a standard model—easy enough to bypass if you know how. And I do. I’ve been studying these systems for years, preparing for this moment.
My fingers work almost on autopilot, disabling the sensor. When the small light on the box blinks from green to red, I give Jax a thumbs-up.
He shakes his head at me, and I see the awe and respect reflected in his eyes in the moonlight.
We’re in.
The journey across the open ground to the building itself is nerve-wracking. It’s too exposed. Too vulnerable. But the sensors are down and we make it to the service entrance without incident.
The door requires a keycard. I pull out a small electronic device—another tool from my arsenal of secrets—and press it against the reader. It takes thirty seconds for the light to turn green; the lock disengaging with a soft click.
And then we’re inside.
The corridor is sterile, lit with the same harsh fluorescents I remember from my…previous visits to places like this. The walls are white; the floor polished to a high shine. It smells of antiseptic and something else—something that makes my alpha bristle with rage.
Fear.
Omega fear.
The scent is faint but unmistakable, a lingering trace in the air. Jax’s nostrils flare as he catches it, too. His eyes meet mine, a silent question.
“Lower level,” I mouth, pointing to a door marked ‘Stairs’ at the end of the corridor.
We move quietly, hugging the walls, listening for any sign of security personnel. The schematics Ashgrave provided show that the night shift is minimal—two guards at the main entrance, one patrolling each floor, two more in the security office monitoring the cameras.
The stairwell is concrete, utilitarian, our footsteps echoing despite our care. We descend two flights; the air growing colder, the scent of fear growing stronger.
The door to the lower level is heavy steel, another keycard reader beside it. I use the device again, tension coiling in my gut as the seconds tick by. If someone comes now…
The light turns green. We’re through.
This corridor is different. Dimmer. The walls a dull gray rather than white. Doors line each side; small windows set into each one. Observation rooms. Examination rooms. Cells.
The scent of fear is overwhelming now, a miasma that clogs my nose and makes my teeth ache. Jax makes a low sound in his throat, instincts responding to the distress without his control.
I raise a hand, silencing him. We need to focus.
“Containment,” I whisper, pointing down the corridor. “End of the hall.”
We move carefully, checking each room as we pass. Most are empty, clean. Some filled with shiny lab equipment.
By the time we reach the end of the hall, my heart’s in my throat.
The door to the Containment room is different—heavier, reinforced, with a biometric scanner instead of a keycard reader. This will be harder.
“Cover me,” I murmur to Jax, pulling out a different device from my pocket. This one is bulkier, more specialized. More expensive. A gift from the dark web.
The device latches onto the scanner, tiny probes extending to interface with its circuits. A small screen displays a progress bar. Twenty percent. Forty. Sixty.
But then there’s sound from down the corridor. Footsteps. A guard doing his rounds. Jax tenses beside me, his hand tightening around the gun.
Eighty percent. Ninety.
The footsteps grow louder. A shadow appears on the wall, the guard about to round the corner.
One hundred percent. The lock disengages.
In two strides, Jax is on the guard, one hand covering his mouth, the other striking a precise blow to the side of the man’s neck. The guard crumples instantly, unconscious but breathing.
“We need to kill him,” I hiss, already reaching for my knife. “He’s seen us.”
Jax grabs my wrist, his grip firm. “No. No bloodshed unless absolutely necessary.”
“They’ll know we were here anyway. What difference does one more body make?”
“It makes all the difference,” Jax says quietly, eyes hard. “To him. To us. We’re not them, Ren.”
I stare at the unconscious guard, tension coiling through my body. Then I exhale slowly, pulling back. “Fuck it. Have it your way.”
Right now, we have more pressing concerns.
The Containment room is dark when we enter, the only light coming from a small observation window high on one wall. The space is larger than I expected—a central area with medical equipment, examination tables, and monitoring stations, surrounded by smaller cells with glass fronts.
And there, in the farthest cell, a small figure huddled in the corner. Head down, dressed in scrubs, wrists raw from restraints.
Hailey.
Jax makes a sound like he’s been punched, starting forward, and this time I follow, my heart hammering against my ribs. The cell door has a simple electronic lock—child’s play after the security we’ve already bypassed. The door slides open with a soft hiss.
“Hailey,” Jax whispers, rushing in. “We’re here. We’ve got you.”
The figure flinches, curling tighter into the corner.
Something isn’t right.
The scent is wrong—distressed omega, yes, but missing the distinctive notes that make up Hailey’s scent. No vanilla. No honey. Just fear and antiseptic.
“Jax,” I warn, but he’s already reaching for the omega’s shoulder, gently turning her to face us.
Not Hailey.
The omega who stares back at us is older, maybe in her thirties, with hollow cheeks and terror-bright eyes. She shrinks away from Jax’s touch with a whimper.
“It’s not her,” Jax says, his voice cracking with disbelief. He spins around, scanning the room. “Where is she? HAILEY!”
I’m already moving, checking the other cells. There are only three omegas here in total, each huddled inside their cells. None of them Hailey.
They whimper, look away from us, huddle even more into themselves at just the fact that we’re here. None reach toward the open door. None tries to escape. They’re all…broken.
My chest tightens. These omegas—frightened, injured, broken—they’re victims of the same system that took Hailey. The same system I’ve been fighting for years.
The overhead lights snap on with a buzz of electricity, harsh fluorescence flooding the containment block. I blink against the sudden assault, my pupils contracting painfully. The empty cells mock us. No Hailey. Just sterile steel surfaces smelling of bleach and something faintly metallic underneath.
Jax’s breath comes out in a sharp exhale beside me. “She’s not here.” His voice is too controlled, the words clipped. I can smell his frustration, though—burnt cedar and gunpowder.
Before I can respond, a hiss fills the air. My head snaps up to see fine mist spraying from vents along the ceiling. The scent hits me first—honeyed sweetness undercut by something darker, richer. My nostrils flare.
Jax makes a choked sound in his throat. “Ren?—”
Heat floods my veins like liquid fire. My muscles lock, every hair standing on end as primitive instincts roar to life. The world narrows to pounding blood and the scent that’s now coating my tongue, thick as syrup.
It’s wrong. Oh, so wrong. Feels wrong. Tastes wrong. But it’s so potent, unnaturally so, that my body struggles to fight against it anyway.
I turn to see Jax braced against the wall, his knuckles white where they grip the metal framing. Sweat glistens on his forehead, his pupils blown so wide his eyes look nearly black. His breathing comes in ragged pulls through clenched teeth.
“Fuck,” he growls, the word vibrating with barely restrained violence. “Omega…heat hormones…”
The door crashes open. A beta in tactical gear fills the doorway, gas mask secured over his face. The rifle in his hands swings toward us.
Every cell in my body screams to attack, to destroy. But I force myself to think past the chemical fog, to move with precision rather than blind rage. My lunge covers the distance between us in a heartbeat. The beta barely has time to flinch before I’m on him.
I catch his knee at just the right angle, twisting with all my strength. The pop of cartilage and tendon separating is obscenely loud. His scream is muffled by the mask and the rifle goes off, bullets spraying into the roof. A couple of lights get shot out. He collapses like a marionette with cut strings.
I rip the mask from his face, revealing features contorted in pain. My forearm presses against his throat, pinning him to the wall as his feet scramble uselessly against the floor.
“Where is she?” The words come out wrong—too deep, too guttural. The scent in the air makes my teeth ache with the need to sink into something.
The beta’s hands claw at my arm, his mouth working soundlessly. I ease the pressure just enough to let him choke out words.
“I don’t—I don’t know who?—”
I slam his head back against the wall. The impact vibrates up my arm. “ Hailey .” Her name is a snarl in my mouth. “Hazel eyes. Honey-blonde hair. Where is she? ”
Something flickers in his pain-glazed eyes. Recognition. I tighten my grip.
“If… if she’s not in this room…” He gasps, spittle flying from his lips. “She’s not in the facility at all.”
My vision tunnels. Not here. We risked everything, and she was never here.
Behind me, Jax makes a wounded noise. “Then where?—?”
The beta’s lips twist into a grotesque parody of a smile despite his pain. “You really think… we’d keep that bitch… somewhere you could find her?”
White-hot rage floods my system. My fist connects with his face in a crunch of cartilage. Blood sprays across the white wall as he slumps unconscious to the floor.
The pheromones in the air make it hard to think. My skin feels too tight, my blood too hot. Jax is leaning heavily against the wall now, his breathing labored.
“Ren—” His voice is strained. “The gas…we need to?—”
Boots pound down the hallway outside. Multiple sets. Heavy tread. Reinforcements.
My mind races through the chemical haze. If Hailey isn’t here, then there’s only one way to find her…
There’s a shout, and three armed betas pour in, masks secured, weapons raised.
I stumble toward the corner of the room, grabbing Jax by the arm and pulling him with me. With my knife, I pry off the cover of the air duct and shove him toward it with every ounce of my strength. “Get in!”
He doesn’t let go of me, not even as he climbs into the duct. Once he’s in and turns, expecting me to follow, I wrench my arm from his grip and slide the cover back on.
The look in Jax’s eyes when the vent cover clicks shut between us will haunt me forever.
Betrayal .
His fingers claw at the metal grate, his lips forming my name— Ren !—but the sound is lost beneath the pounding of boots and the rush of blood in my ears.
I turn away before I can see the moment his expression shifts from shock to fury. Before he realizes I’ve just locked him in there, alone, while I stay behind.
Because I have to.
The betas fan out, weapons trained on me. I don’t fight as the first dart embeds itself in my thigh. I don’t resist as the second hits my shoulder, the third my neck.
Let them think they’ve won.
My knees hit the floor. The world tilts, my vision swimming with black spots. The last thing I see before darkness takes me is a beta crouching in front of me, his masked face inches from mine.
“ Widow wants a word .”
His gloved hand grips my jaw, forcing my head up. Prick.
“ And you’re going to give her exactly what she asks for .”