Chapter 24
Mags
It isn’t the police-assisted federal raid that sends me spiraling into panic.
It isn’t watching the Langleys carted away in chains.
It isn’t being escorted to an unmarked building for questioning.
It’s the fact that, in all that, I can’t find Kaden.
Kip was with me in the omegas’ rooms when the raid went down. Nik was on guard duty, and the feds reunited us within minutes once he explained that I was his pregnant mate. But Kaden wasn’t with us.
He wasn’t in the throng of confused servants and staff outside.
He wasn’t anywhere.
Confusion reigns as the officers and agents round us all up and sort us into neat little groups.
They allow bonded packs like us to stick together, but the poor unbonded servants have to undergo questioning on their own.
I’d feel sorry for them, but my mind won’t let me focus on anything but finding Kaden.
I ask every cop and federal agent who will listen, but no one is telling me anything. The second I mention Kaden’s name, they shut down and tell me to “Please sit down, Ms. O’Neil.”
Except I wasn’t Ms. O’Neil in this con. I was Ms. O’Bryan.
There’s only one way they could have my real name.
Nik does the best he can to console me, but my brain just feeds me constant worst-case scenarios no matter what he does.
Kip insists that Kaden’s alive, that he’d know if his twin was hurt or injured, but that’s all he knows.
Kaden seems to have taken a page from my book and hidden himself from the pack bond and the twin bond, so none of us have any idea where he is.
I don’t know how or why, but the three of us aren’t arrested. Once the feds take our statements, they bid us adieu, but not before reminding us not to leave town.
How can we leave town when Kaden might be locked up somewhere?
The news outlets aren’t much help. They report an anonymous tipster who notified the authorities of the trafficking ring that the Langleys were part of, but no one is saying where that tipster went. Is he arrested? In witness protection? Where is my third mate?
The only thing I know for certain is that anxiety and morning sickness do not mix. I can barely force anything down, and what little I do eat comes right back up.
For some reason, the only thing that I can stomach is red licorice. Nik says that’s probably the baby at work, but I want to tell the kid that I can’t survive on licorice alone, so if he, she, or they could kindly allow me to consume something with more substance, that would be great.
We’ve been back home for three days now. Three days without news, three days without Kaden.
I have to give it to Nik and Kip; they’re trying to keep my spirits up. Nik has gone from aloof alpha with a sizeable chip on his shoulder, to the most loving, cuddly guy I’ve ever met. He even worked with Kip to spruce up my nest, which I suppose I should appreciate more than I do.
The mattresses are now spread across the floor of Nik’s room, providing wall-to-wall softness.
Kip procured some oversized suede couch cushions—where from is anyone’s guess, though they seem brand new—to line the sides of the nest, and they both spent hours hanging ethereal pink curtains around the room, with matching pink sheets, pillows, and comforters.
My mini fridge from the closet-nest has been replaced with a full-sized refrigerator, complete with freezer drawer and dispenser for fresh water and ice.
They even added bookshelves full of the smuttiest of smut and soft mood lighting.
It’s perfect, with the exception of one small, tiny detail: There’s no Kaden in it.
There’s no Kaden in the house. No Kaden anywhere.
Well … Kaden’s kind of around. I see him every time Kip walks into the room, and for the briefest of moments, my heart stops at the thought that he’s back.
It’s crazy. I’ve been able to tell the twins apart my whole life. Why am I suddenly confused?
I feel for Kip. He’s missing his literal other half, but here I am, moping around, making things worse. It can’t be easy for him, either, but my distress overrides any sympathy I can muster.
On the morning of day four, I decide to take matters into my own hands.
Since sleep has been evasive, I slip out the front door before dawn and get in the car. I’m going to find Kaden if it kills me.
I probably should have told Nik or Kip where I’m going, but I don’t want them to talk me out of it. I got us all into this mess, got Kaden into this mess, and I’m going to get us—get him—out.
I’m going to get him back.
The sound of the car engine turning over makes me cringe, and I throw it into reverse and back out of the driveway before Nik can come running out to see where I’m going.
The first place I head to is the unmarked building where Nik, Kip, and I were questioned, nibbling on licorice as I drive.
I’m pretty sure it’s either a secret federal building, or it was commandeered for the purpose of heading the raid on the Langleys’ stolen mansion.
If it’s the former, I should be able to talk my way inside and start asking questions about where Kaden’s being held.
If it’s the latter, well, I just hope they’re still using it as a base of operations for taking down DeltaCorp.
Either way, I hope to get some answers.
Two male guards in sharp suits stop me at the entrance to the parking lot. The ass of my car is still in the damn street, so I hope no one comes barreling around the corner before they let me in.
“Miss? May I ask what you’re doing here? This facility is off-limits to civilians.”
“Does that mean my mate can go?” I ask, chewing on a licorice string. “Because, like, he’s a civilian, and you guys separated him from his pack while his mate—that’s me—is in the early stages of pregnancy, and that’s not cool.”
They look at each other as if my question totally throws them for a loop. I bet they weren’t expecting blunt honesty.
Then again, nobody has ever expected any kind of honesty from me.
“Ma’am, there’s no one here that belongs to your pack. It’s all agents and local LEOs from the precinct. We let the last of the witnesses go the other day.”
Well, that’s either a lie or a rather disappointing fact. If they don’t have Kaden here, where could he be? They certainly didn’t let him go; he’d be home by now if that was the case.
“What about the whistle-blower? He still in custody?”
“We can’t disclose—”
“Where is Kaden Hardin?”
I ask it with a quiet calm, but from the expressions on the agents’ faces, I’ve hit something on the nose.
Recognition blooms in their faces as I say his name, meaning at the very least they know who he is, if not quite where.
They look uncomfortably at each other, and it’s clear that they weren’t expecting me to come directly down to their little headquarters and demand answers.
By this time, a few other agents have come out of the building, two men and a woman, crossing the parking lot with brisk steps. They haven’t drawn their weapons—yet—but their hands hover over them, as if they’re expecting me to put up a fight.
What do they think I’m gonna do? I just rolled up here with a snack and said I was pregnant. Neither of those things points to a threat.
The woman reaches my car first. She’s tall, muscular—an alpha. Rare for a woman, but not unheard of. Hopefully she’ll take pity on me and either bring me to Kaden or tell me where he is. I’ve been behaving so far; maybe the feds will, too, if I keep it up.
Is pregnancy putting me on the straight and narrow? God, I hope not.
“Ms. O’Neil? I’m Agent Elgin. I understand you had some questions about Mr. Hardin?”
The guards at the front must be wired. I didn’t see or hear either of them calling for backup. That means I’m being recorded.
It also means they’re being recorded.
Oh, this is gonna be fun. I haven’t had the chance to grift on the fly in a while. Planned cons are cool and all, but sometimes you just get a craving for a little improv.
“Ms. Elgin—”
“Agent.”
“Okay, Ms. Agent. I came to find my packmate. He turned in evidence against the Langleys that helped you guys stop a major pack trafficking ring. Now he’s conveniently disappeared, and I need him back.
If you could just scurry off and bring him here, that would be great.
” I pull out another licorice string and bite off a piece.
Step One: Pretend that I’m not at all intimidated by the fact she’s as tall as Nik and probably could crush my larynx with one hand.
Step Two: Clumsily get out of the car, holding my licorice in one hand and my belly with the other.
Step Three: Trip into Agent Elgin in the process, slamming into her, then grab her ID badge when she’s busy keeping me upright.
Step Four: Spill my licorice on the ground, thus causing the remaining agents to crouch down to help me pick it up.
By the time I’m done with my theatrics, I’ve also got two sets of keys, a wallet, and someone’s cell phone.
Then comes the verbal portion of the show.
I lay into Agent Elgin—who seems to be in charge—for ten minutes, my longest monologue yet.
I accuse them of holding Kaden hostage, kidnapping, unlawful detainment, and a few random war crimes thrown in for good measure.
I mean, I have no proof that they’re waterboarding him, but the accusation gets Agent Elgin riled up enough that she doesn’t notice my full pockets.
“Ms. O’Neil, if you don’t leave immediately, we will detain you. We don’t have Mr. Hardin in custody, not that we’d even be obligated to tell you if we did. Go home.”
Cue the waterworks.
“A-are you telling me y-you lost him?” Tears stream down my cheeks, and I add a little hiccupping for good measure. “Y-you lost my mate?”
Agent Elgin instructs her other alpha agents to escort me back to my car, which is still halfway in the street, and she further instructs me to go home and wait for Kaden to return on his own.
I know he won’t, though. They’ve got him, but that’s okay.
I have everything I need to get him back now.