Chapter Twelve
CHAPTER TWELVE
TENSION PULSES IN my head as I study the list of Primordial Covenant’s tour stops, comparing them to the list of campaign stops New Hampshire Senator Adam Pierson will be making. Stops that don’t align with his rallies, but are in between, are apparently still a threat. Much like the unexpected disaster in Grand Rapids last night.
When I got the call from the venue owner explaining the situation with protesters lined up outside, I immediately jumped into action. If they were in an area known for anti-pack ideals, I would have already had the bands prepared for potential altercations. Grand Rapids is a pro-pack territory, which made the sudden appearance of Pierson’s followers extremely frustrating.
Thankfully, a small RV campground in Northwest Ohio could quickly accommodate the tour buses. For a hefty fee, of course. Not that the money matters. The safety of our bands and road crews takes priority over everything else.
My landline beeps with an intercom message from Jane. I press the button, steeling myself for whatever additional issue has arisen now. “Mr. Acherley, your brother is here to see you.”
Shock draws my brows together, but I’m quick to stand and collect him. Jericho is only an inch shorter than I am, with a thicker build and unruly, black hair. He gives me a cocky grin as soon as he sees me, our eternal rivalry surging to the front of my instincts as we shake hands. Both of our grips are too tight, but with my sibling, I can’t help the beast I become.
“Okay, Jericho. What brings you to my office?” I ask as I close the door behind him.
His playful demeanor shifts to something subdued, putting me on edge. This must be a professional call instead of a personal visit. He works for the FCDA as an internal agent in charge of monitoring information networks worldwide.
“When the FCDA hired me, I promised to alert you to any threats to the safety of your staff while they are touring.”
I nod, remembering the agreement we’d come to. In exchange for his heads up, my tours were always open to undercover operations if he needed a way into a city without alerting the locals.
“A breeding ring has opened on the East Coast.”
His words have me dropping into my seat, anger warring with disgust. Breeding rings are one of the most severe form of sex trafficking to emerge since designations awakened around the world a hundred years ago. They kidnap unbonded alphas and omegas intending to force them into heats and ruts so they will bear new alphas and omegas. They then auction those children off to the highest bidder.
It’s despicable.
“We’ve been trying to track them down for the past few months, but their operations have recently escalated. Where they were previously only abducting a handful of people every few months, they’ve tripled their numbers over the past two weeks.”
“Which suspiciously coincides with Senator Pierson’s announcement of his presidential run,” I bite out. This certainly changes my plans for the rest of our band’s tours. Until the ring is dismantled, we will have to up internal security measures significantly.
“That was our assumption as well, but you know how things go.”
I jerk my head in agreement, already pulling up the details of our current security firm. Proving this ring has a connection to the New Hampshire religious cult led by Pastor Grant Montgomery will be nearly impossible. In all the years I’ve supported the DAU and FCDA, no one has ever found enough evidence to take them down.
“Business aside, how are things? Have you given up on this life of solitary and found a mate yet?”
I level a glare his way, a frown pulling at my lips. My brother has a pack of his own and a beautiful omega mate. Something he has thoroughly enjoyed rubbing in my face every chance he gets.
Briefly, Sabine’s deep blue eyes flash through my mind, but I’m quick to brush the image aside. Being mateless is my choice. One day, I may take a chosen beta mate, but I will never accept an omega bond. I’m not built to share my partners, something I have reiterated to Jericho several times.
“No, I have not.”
He laughs, shaking his head. “One day you’ll meet an omega who shakes your world up, big brother. I cannot wait to watch you crumble when you do.”
His phone rings, the call ending our brief meeting. He throws me a wave as he heads back out of the office, leaving me with more work and a slew of phone calls to make.
After a quick briefing with the owner of the security company hired by the label, I call Brady. He’s as horrified by this new threat as I am, but he’s strong enough to channel his anger into productivity. Drafting check in schedules and a head count for all the crew on his tour. We will double and triple check to ensure no one goes missing on our watch.
“I’ll inform all the security teams of this development,” he says as we bring our call to an end.
“Only speak with the security hired by the label. I will speak with the DAU bodyguards myself.” He grunts an amused sound but doesn’t comment on the insistence in my tone.
After hanging up the call, I take a moment to pour myself a small glass of whiskey. My instincts are alight with worry for my omega manager. Sabine has a DAU sanctioned bodyguard tailing her twenty-four seven. She will be safer than any of the rest of our staff. Yet my brain demands we track her down to make sure she is safe with my own eyes.
A video meeting will have to suffice, because I cannot drop everything to travel to Kentucky for a check in.
The line beeps as the call goes through, waiting for Sabine to accept. My fingers tap impatiently along the top of my desk, my annoyance growing with every passing second.
When her image flickers to life on the screen, I have to take a deep breath to steady myself. The sunlight shining through the window behind her creates a glowing halo around her dark curls, painting her in an ethereal light. I’d say she looks like a heaven-sent angel if I couldn’t see the fire burning in her eyes.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Acherley,” she greets me stiffly.
“Hello, Sabine.” I fight back a smirk when her jaw clenches, biting back what I’m sure is a scathing retort to my use of her full name. Though I’m not sure why she detests it. Sabine is a beautiful name. It rolls off my tongue with ease, begging to drip into her ear as I pin her to my bed.
“How are the bands adjusting after the unexpected protest outside of the Grand Rapids show?” I already asked Brady the same question, but I’m curious to see how she perceives things.
Her body language shifts as she seamlessly slips into professional mode, sparking a flush of pride through my mind. “Overall, they’re handling the changes well. It was unexpected in Michigan, but there will be other stops where aggressive protests are likely to occur. They were all aware of those dangers going in.”
“Has anyone been struggling? Do we need to consider outside measures to help them cope with the pressure?”
Her head shakes, making her curls fall down across her face. She’s quick to brush them aside, absentmindedly pulling the strands into a messy bun as she responds. “The sudden appearance of a large crowd of protesters outside of the show has certainly added to the anxiety of some of the band members and crew, but it hasn’t reached a point where I believe we need to intervene. That may become a necessity as we reach the Southern states and encounter volatile protesters.”
I hum my agreement but don’t comment. The determined spark in her eyes and the thoughtful purse of her lips tell me she isn’t finished speaking.
“Orbital Somatic’s drummer Lee is the only band member of concern. His crowd anxiety was already high before we saw external crowds around the shows. I’ve been working with him to find focal points to help him cope, but it will only work to quell his stage anxiety.”
“This is the band’s first extensive tour. Do you think he needs time to adjust to playing for larger crowds, or is his anxiety a deeper rooted issue?”
“Honestly, I think this is a make or break situation. He needs to learn to handle the pressure a large crowd brings if he wishes to continue performing in a growing band. What will happen if they grow in popularity and headline a festival in the future? Those crowds are enormous compared to these mid-sized venues the String of Fate tour is performing in.”
Her head tilts to the side, highlighting the unmarked curve of her neck. My teeth ache with the urge to sink into her skin, an instinct I fight to squash as soon as it rises. While a video call with Sabine may have eased the need to see she’s safe with my own eyes, it also fuels the desire I have for her. An obsession I have been adamantly trying to shake.
“Keep me updated,” I grit out as I wrestle for control of my alpha. “Are your bodyguards available for an update? And Miss Omen.”
Sabine agrees, temporarily muting herself as she adjusts the camera location to show all four of them sitting on a light gray couch. The dark-haired bodyguard throws his arm along the back, his fingers grazing her shoulder, and I nearly bite through my cheek to hold in the growl rattling up my chest.
“Good afternoon gentlemen, omegas. Working for the DAU, you may already know a new breeding ring has popped up here on the East Coast.”
Both men nod, but Sabine and Omen look shocked by this news. I suppose it’s in their best interest to not stir their worry with threats their bodyguards can mitigate, but I’d prefer they be aware enough to look out for themselves, too.
“My contact at the FCDA has reached out to express his concern over the rapid expansion of their numbers. To prevent this ring from targeting the Primordial Covenant tour, we will enforce stricter security protocols from here out. Head counts, extra security at venues, and regular check-ins will be required. Your safety, and the safety of the rest of the tour staff, is Soulbound’s utmost priority. I appreciate your cooperation in this endeavor.”
Both women are quick to agree, and I don’t wait for the men to respond before I bring the call to an end. It is their job to protect those omegas, and I will not settle for anything less than their complete dedication to the task. Nor will the DAU agent in charge of their placement.
Carefully slipping my shoes from my feet, I slide them into their spot on the shoe rack inside of the coat closet. The weight of my responsibilities at the label slips away with each step farther into my home. Starburgh’s city lights glint through the windows running around the exterior of the penthouse, creating mesmerizing imagery as the background to my casual life.
I beeline for the state-of-the-art kitchen on the right. The household manager I hired has a tray of Salsa Verde Chicken Enchiladas waiting for me in the warming drawer. I groan as the scents of cheese and spices hit my nose. I barely ate a quick sandwich from the local deli at lunch, too busy attempting to counter any issues this new breeding ring may create for my staff as they travel.
A glass of Pinot Noir in hand, I slide onto a stool at the island and dig in. Good food is one expense I refuse to budge on. Quality ingredients and dishes with high flavor profiles are a requirement regardless of where I eat. I refuse to settle for greasy fast food when there are mom and pop restaurants around the country serving incredible meals for a small jump in cost.
Opening my phone, I find myself drawn to the social media apps I rarely use. My fingers have a mind of their own as I search through the profiles to find Sabine’s account. Picture after picture flows across my screen as I scroll through them, noting all the things she seems to like. Concerts, specifically for the band Candy Courage. The soft, stuffed animals many young omegas seem to collect. Bright colored clothing shows off entirely too much of her golden bronze skin for an app where strangers around the world could ogle her.
I force myself to close the program, letting her image linger in my mind. It’s been years since I felt the longing for an omega mate of my own. Once upon a time, I coveted the idea of a pack bond. The friends I was closest to then seemed to be the perfect fit. We held similar moral values and wanted to live lives of luxury.
A Fated connection was all it took for that dream to crash down around me. We tried. My friends and their Fate matched omega. Despite no Fated bond between us, she enjoyed my company. Welcomed me into their pack and into her nest. Unfortunately, it wasn’t meant to last. I am not an alpha who shares his partners.
It was for the best. Our lives have led us on different paths. Where they hoard their wealth and only contribute enough to appease the masses, I relish the joy I get when I help others. I’m invested in making my community a better place. I simply cannot sit by and let my wealth grow when others are struggling.
Given Sabine’s connection to the DAU, it’s easy to imagine her slotting into my lifestyle. She grew up in an environment focused on catering to those less fortunate. What new ventures would she encourage me to undertake in the name of equality?
Rinsing my empty plate, I slide it into the dishwasher. Stopping at the freezer, I dig out a pint of the pineapple gelato I’ve been hoarding and grab a spoon. Wondering what life would be like with Sabine as my mate will only cause more harm than good. She’s not meant to be mine. Omegas need multiple mates to help temper the pain their heats can cause, and I cannot bring myself to envision sharing her with another. Even for her benefit.
I’m a selfish alpha.