5. Deacon
CHAPTER 5
DEACON
T he hum of jet engines is a familiar comfort as I stare out the window at the clouds below us. At thirty-thousand feet the world seems deceptively peaceful, but I know the truth. I know what waits for us on the ground.Evil doesn't sleep, and neither have I since we found out Charlotte might be in New Mexico of all places.
It took us a week to organize ourselves and obtain an additional team on loan from Dez before we were finally ready to depart. I always feel good about our odds when we're on a mission, but with Beckett, Malcolm, and Quincy, this should be a quick snatch-and-grab.Something tells me it won’t be that simple.How many others are being kept alongside Charlotte? How manyTangoesfor that matter ?
Rolling my shoulders I try to ease the tension that's built up after days of inactivity. My muscles feel like concrete, and I am teetering on the edge of a full-blown migraine. This is not me.No matter how many times I've been deployed, no matter how many missions I've run, this one feels different.This isn't some nameless target I'm hunting through my scope. This ispersonal.
Like Motley, I feel a sense of ownership when it comes to our target.Not ownership over her—never that—but over what happens to the people who took her.Considering how I feel about my own sisters and how my parents married them off, this mission is more than a job.It’s a reckoning.The red thread slowly winds its way around my soul and the souls of my brothers, attaching us inch by inchto her. To Charlotte.
"How much longer?" I ask, my voice rougher than I intended.
Teagan glances up from the couch across the aisle, hisDesert Eagle in handas he pauses in his meticulous cleaning and arches a brow. "Two more hours, give or take. You good, Deacon?"
I nod, not trusting myself to speak more than necessary. The nickname—my callsign—feels right for this mission.I'm always a soldier first. We all are.Civilian life doesn’t suit us anymore, hence our need to risk our lives on the regular in aid of others. I’m more comfortable beingDeaconthan my God-given name.Moses falls away the minute my boots touch the ground.And God help anyone who stands between me and my target.
A few seats in front of me, Josiah and Malcolm are hunched over their laptops like they’re praying to them. The blue light reflects off their faces, making them look almost ghostly.Joker hasn't cracked a single joke in hours.That tells me exactly how invested he is. The pounding of his fingers over the keys is almost musical. The speed in which he commands his tech still amazes me, even after all these years.
"J," I say quietly, moving to sit beside him. "Talk to me."
Josiah doesn’t look up, but his lips press together in that way they do when he’s processing multiple thoughts at once. "This compound is in the middle of nowhere. The closest town is about forty klicks out." He tilts the screen so I can see the satellite imagery. "From what Malcolm and I can gather, they’ve got a good setup. Solar panels for power, their own well system. They could stay off-grid indefinitely. "
"Security?" I ask, leaning closer.
"That’s what’s interesting," Malcolm chimes in without looking up. "For a place supposedly holding captives, their digital footprint is minimal. Basic cameras, nothing networked in any sophisticated way."
Josiah nods. "Which means either they’re incredibly stupid?—”
"Or it’s a trap," I finish for him. The thoughtmakes me sick. If we’ve gotten this wrong?—
"Or," Beckett interrupts from across the aisle, his voice carrying the authority of someone used to command, "they’re so confident in their remote location that they don’t think they need much security."
Quincy snorts. "Arrogance. Makes our job easier."
I’m not so sure.Something doesn’t feel right.The compound is too isolated, too perfectly hidden. My instincts are screaming at me, and I learned long ago to trust them.
"What if they’re not there?" I ask the question that’s been haunting me since we boarded. "What if this is just a dead end?" The cabin falls silent. We’ve all been thinking it, but no one wanted to give voice to our fears.
Beaux, who's been quiet until now, leans forward in his seat. "Then we keep looking. We don’t stop until we find her."
I nod, grateful for his certainty when mine is wavering. I close my eyes briefly, thinking of my family.Of my sisters. Of how I failed them.I couldn't save them then.I was too young, too powerless. I trusted in the bullshit they fed me about our place in the world.But I'm not that scared kid anymore.No one is making me bow to tradition. And no matter what we’re walking into, I won’t fail this time.
"I've got building schematics," Josiah announces suddenly, his voice tight with excitement. "Malcolm, you seeing this?"
"Holy shit," Malcolm whispers. "How did you?"
"Don't ask, don't tell," Josiah replies, a ghost of his usual humor flickering across his face. "Look at the sublevel designs."
I lean over his shoulder, studying the blueprint on his screen. The compound has three underground levels that didn't show up on the satellite imagery. My stomach clenches.
"They built a prison," I say, tracing the outline of the rectangular building structures with even smaller cell-like rooms inside. "Right under the desert."
Teagan moves to join us, his expression hardening as he takes in what we're seeing. "How many potential hostages are we looking at?"
Josiah shakes his head. "No way to tell for sure but based on the design, dozens. Maybe more."
I think of all those people—all those Omegas—trapped underground, hidden from the world. I think of my mother, of my sisters. I think of every Omega who's ever been told their only value is in their submission.
"I've got something," Malcolm's voice cuts through the tension, his tone sharp enough to make us all turn. "Fuck, fuck, fuck—" he's muttering, fingers flying across his keyboard.
"What is it?" Teagan demands, already moving to the other side of the table to stand behind Malcolm.
Malcolm doesn't look up. "I've been monitoring certain dark web channels, places where they sell people." His voice tightens. "Specifically, Omega trafficking auction announcements."
My blood runs cold. I stand, moving closer as the rest of the team gathers around.
"There's chatter about a 'premium offering' dropping today. They're hyping it up as some kind of rare specimen." The disgust in Malcolm's voice mirrors what I'm feeling. "I should warn you all, there might be images or videos of the ‘product’.” He practically spits the last word.
"Show us," Beaux demands, his voice deadly quiet.
Malcolm hesitates. "Are you sure? This could be?—"
"Now," Teagan cuts in, authority radiating from him.
With a reluctant nod, Malcolm connects his laptop to the cabin's projection system. The blank wall across from us flickers to life, displaying a dark webpage with scrolling text in a chat window. The excitement in the chat is palpable, users typing frantically about a ‘prime buy’ and ‘worth every penny’.
"Jesus," Josiah breathes, reading the comments faster than the rest of us. "They're bidding already, just on a promise."
My fists clench at my sides as I read the dehumanizing language. These aren't people looking to buy a car or a house, they're discussing a human being like they’re livestock.
"Wait," Malcolm says. "They're releasing a preview."
A video player appears on screen. For one merciful moment, the thumbnail is dark, giving us no hint of what's to come. Then Malcolm clicks play .
"Fuck!" Teagan's roar fills the cabin as the video begins.
"Shit." Beckett curses at the same time.
My stomach drops through the floor. The world narrows to a pinpoint, everything peripheral fades away as I take in what I'm seeing. It's Charlotte, there's no doubt. Even through the pain and humiliation visible on her face, I recognize her immediately.
"Turn it off!" I shout, but I can't look away. None of us can.
She's in the throes of a forced heat, the artificial flush to her skin, the glazed look in her eyes despite her obvious terror. Three men surround her, using her body while she whimpers. The sound cuts through me like a knife.
Beaux tosses his coffee cup across the cabin with a primal growl. "I'll kill them all. Every last one of them."
"Malcolm," Quincy says quietly but firmly. "End it. Now."
The screen goes black, but the damage is done. The image is burned into my retinas. Her tears. The way her body responded while her eyes screamed for help. The cruel hands on her skin.
I stumble to the bathroom, barely making it before I empty my stomach. Gripping the sink, I splash cold water on my face, trying to wash away what I've just witnessed. In the mirror, my reflection looks haunted, my eyes nearly black with rage.
When I return to the cabin, the atmosphere has transformed. The controlled professionalism has given way to something darker, more primal. This is no longer just a mission.
"We have a location," Josiah says, his voice hollow. "The video had metadata. They were sloppy."
"Or arrogant," Beckett adds.
"Either way, this answers our questions about whether this location is legit," Teagan says. "The compound on the satellite images—it matches."
I look around at my brothers, at our borrowed team members. No one speaks for a long moment. We don't need to. What we just witnessed has changed everything.
"We're not just retrieving her now," I say finally, my voice raw. "We're burning that place to the ground."
Teagan nods, his expression turning murderous. "Call Dez. Tell him we need extraction capabilities for multiple victims and his Beta team. Oh, and weapons. Lots of weapons."
"No one gets left behind," Beaux says, "and no one who touched her walks away. "
"Amen to that," I whisper, the word feeling like a prayer and a curse all at once. The religious boy my parents raised would be horrified by the violence in my heart right now. But the man I've become, the soldier, the protector, knows some sins can only be cleansed with blood.