Chapter Seventeen
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THE FCDA OFFICE we’re meeting in is too quiet. I’ve grown used to being on tour, finding the chaos of life on the road oddly welcoming.
I stand with my back to the wall, arms crossed over my chest and my usual scowl in place. Ridley is at my side, waving and talking to every agent who passes us by. I fight back an eye roll as he pulls yet another DAU operative into his conversation. How he always knows everyone everywhere we go, I’ll never understand.
“You look like someone slashed your tires.”
I huff out a breath and glare at my only other friend, Creed Barrett. He’s a sneaky bastard. Somehow walking on silent feet despite his bulking frame. I guess that comes with being a former undercover agent at the FCDA.
“I’m here,” I grunt out.
He claps me on the shoulder, chuckling as the last of the stragglers walk in. His amusement fades when Donovan, Dromir, and Porter head to the front of the room. Two DAU leaders and the head of the FCDA.
Whatever they called us here for must be big.
“Settle down everyone,” Donovan calls out. The noise in the already quiet room drops to a nearly painful silence as all eyes turn to him. “Thank you for coming here on such short notice. We’re going to dive right into it, so please save your questions for the end.”
Porter steps up beside him and gestures to the tech organizer behind them. The gigantic screen on the wall flickers to life, displaying an image of several men meeting outside of a dingy warehouse. It’s dark enough to conceal any clues about their location, but the sharp intake of breath from several FCDA agents in the room tells me these men are big players in the criminal world.
“As of 3 o’clock this morning, we have visual confirmation the street gang The Eternals are working with the leaders of the East Coast breeding ring.”
The Eternals are a mid-level crime syndicate. Mostly known for drug trafficking, sex work, and violence. For them to dip their toes into the skin trade is a tremendous leap. Their leaders have balls to risk stepping on the toes of the bigger players in New York.
I focus on the picture, studying the faces of the supposed leaders of the Eternals and the breeding ring. Trafficking has always been an issue for humanity, but after designations emerged, the skin trade became focused on omegas. Hundreds of thousands of teenagers went missing in one year. Stolen by morally corrupt alphas looking to collect their own omega harems to breed. The world faced over a decade of families living in fear of having their omega children kidnapped from their beds before world governments created stricter policies to guarantee omega safety.
Almost fifty years later, breeding rings still crop up, but they’re usually stopped by organizations like the DAU and FCDA, or by crime families who refuse to allow them into their cities.
“This photo was taken in the abandoned warehouse district up river from Yonkers. We suspect this is the current location of one of their breeding camps. We have twenty-four hours to iron out a plan to infiltrate, dismantle, and bring down this camp. There are captive victims still inside, so we have to hit them before they move.”
My jaw clenches as I listen to their intel. I can’t stop my thoughts from straying to Bea. Starburgh is only a ten-minute drive up the highway from this warehouse. If this ring has boots on the ground, she could be in danger.
Fighting back the instinctual drive to go to her is difficult. I can sense Ridley isn’t faring any better beside me, but we can’t leave now. Our best hope to keep Bea safe is to take out all the potential threats against her.
“I’m surprised you’re joining us,” I grunt to Creed as I pull on a tactical vest. We spent most of the day cooperating with the FCDA to devise a plan of infiltration to ensure a clean sweep of the warehouse. It’s evening now, the sun just setting, and we’re gearing up.
A frown crosses Creed’s face as he adjusts the straps on his gear, his head turning my way when he’s finished. “My half-brother is a mid-level member of The Eternals.”
My eyebrows jump to my forehead. I didn’t know he had a sibling, let alone one with dangerous connections. When we’d toured together in the military, he had shared his orphan status. Both his parents died when he was a teenager, leaving him to be fostered by family friends until he presented. A half-sibling means one of his parents had another child before they bonded, or cheated after.
“No shit.”
Creed rolls his neck, clearly uncomfortable with this topic of conversation. “We’ve never gotten along. Not when I learned he existed as a teenager, definitely not now that he’s lost himself in the world of crime.”
I jerk my head in understanding, stooping to tighten the laces on my boots. He says nothing else, but the tense air around him remains. It is easy to assume he feels some responsibility for this half-brother’s involvement in the breeding ring. Not that those feelings should hold any value. They’re both adults and handle their own actions.
“Let’s head out,” Porter calls from the entrance of the room. We pile into large armored vans for the drive down the highway to the river. The vans split up, taking different routes to avoid being detected by any foot soldiers on the streets.
Night has fully fallen by the time everyone arrives, exactly as we planned. We need the cover of dark to help hide our approach.
Creed and Ridley stand beside me, silent as they draw their weapons and fall into step behind Porter. The warehouse we’re raiding looks one hail storm away from collapse with its deteriorating brick exterior and shattered glass windows. Aged plywood covers them from the inside, limiting our vantage points.
We creep toward the South entrance, a single metal door on this side of the building limiting our points of access. Other teams position themselves to the North and West, with a fourth team scaling a neighboring warehouse to gain rooftop access. Small chirps from the radio clipped to Porter’s chest are the signal to advance.
Everything devolves to chaos as we breach the building, slamming the metal door open and immediately firing on the guards in the long hallway. Gunfire sounds throughout the building as we split into two smaller groups. My team heads to the basement, where we suspect they are keeping their trafficking victims.
My hands are steady, my aim precise, as I let my military training guide my actions. Leaning around a corner, I quickly take out the two guards sitting at a small table. Return shots fire from deeper in the dimly lit room, but another agent silences them with a volley of shots.
Nausea churns violently in my stomach as I step into the open space. The smell of distress, piss, and blood permeates every inch of the enclosed room. Dog kennels line the walls. Terrified women and teenagers watch us from within the bars as we sweep through the space to ensure no stragglers remain. Several of them stare with unseeing eyes, lost to the trauma they’ve endured here. They are all naked, bruises apparent on their skin beneath a layer of dirt and grime.
The mere thought this was happening so close to my omega threatens to send me into an alpha rage. It’s only the scared whimpers of every victim in this room holding me back. When this raid is done, I’m going to install cameras at Bea’s apartment. No one will get to her on my watch.
“My name is Ridley,” my roommate greets cautiously, putting his gun away and raising his hands as he sinks to a low squat. We all agreed he should be the one to address them. His charm will do more to put them at ease than dealing with my gruff nature or one of these other assholes’ acerbic personalities. “I’m with the Designation Activist Underground. We’re here to rescue you.”
Some of them shuffle, mistrust still clear in their eyes. Creed approached Ridley and hands him a set of key rings before going to speak to our team leader. He disappears up the stairs a moment later. Likely going to see if his half-brother was among the men they captured upstairs.
“I’m going to unlock your cages, but I won’t force you to leave them. When you are ready to leave, we can escort you upstairs to the medical team waiting outside. The FCDA will help you get into contact with your loved ones, or if you don’t have anyone looking for you, the DAU can help place you in a temporary home to recover.”
Seeing the visible signs of these women’s physical and sexual assault makes my chest ache. The lack of compassion and morals it takes to force someone to breed sickens me. The people who caused this, who decided they can make decisions about someone else’s body, should spend the rest of their lives in prison. Rotting away slowly and subjected to the consequences of their own inadequacy.
It takes hours for all the women to feel comfortable enough to leave their cages. Several of the victims who had been here the longest had stepped in to help guide those who were too lost to make the choice on their own. The only relief I feel staring at the rows of empty cages is knowing they can start to heal now.
Rescuing them doesn’t erase what they’ve been through, nor does it stop the same thing from happening to someone else. This is just one small step we can take to put an end to the vile acts of the leaders of this breeding ring.
Ridley bounds up the pathway to Bea and Omen’s tan stone apartment building. He knocks on the door, shifting restlessly from foot to foot as he waits for an answer. A frustrated huff greets us as it swings open a crack. My instincts light up when I catch the sour notes of Bea’s Pina Colada scent.
“What’s wrong, sunshine?”
I follow awkwardly behind them as he swoops our mate into his arms, burying his nose against her throat and inhaling deeply. A purr rattles to life in his chest, melting Bea against him. Watery eyes meet mine over his shoulder, stirring my alpha to life.
Too afraid to lose control of myself if I get any closer. I force myself to stay where I am.
“Omen,” she whispers before hiding her face against Ridley’s chest, sadness flooding her expression as she looks away from me. I can’t tell if I’ve upset her or if the other omega has. My teeth grind in my effort to hold back from comforting her. Ridley has her. She doesn’t need me interfering when I refuse to bond her.
“What about her?”
“She’s locked herself in her nest since we returned from the show in Philadelphia. Won’t answer when I knock. It’s been two days, and she hasn’t left. Hasn’t eaten or showered. I can’t handle staying in this apartment knowing she is falling apart in there and won’t let me help.”
Ridley plops down on their couch, rearranging Bea’s legs so she’s straddling his lap, and presses her against his chest to get the full effect of his purr. “We’ll help you keep an eye on her. She has to surface tomorrow for the show in New York City. We’ll make sure she eats and showers then.”
I look away from where they are quietly whispering to each other, ignoring the jabs of jealousy when they trade soft kisses and focus on scouting the apartment. We’re visiting to settle Ridley’s instincts, and to set up the security cameras hidden in my trunk.
“Let’s grab dinner,” Ridley suggests, pulling Bea to her feet. He shares a knowing look with me over her shoulder, and I nod in response. If he gets her out of the apartment for an hour or two, I can get it set up without her knowing it is there.
Is it wrong to install it without her knowledge and permission? Probably. I’m not taking any chances, though, and I know Bea would fight me on them.
The whirl of my drill accompanies the silence of the small apartment as I place the last lens outside of the window on the back of the building. From this angle, I will see the small enclosed yard and both bedroom windows. I have similar views on the front and the left side. Since they are the last in a row of townhouses, I shouldn’t have to worry about the right side. Not with the scent blocking insulation omega-safe housing is required to be built with.
I’m returning my tools to the trunk when Ridley and Bea return. Her cheeks are flushed, plush lips swollen. My fingers grip the trunk of my car hard enough the metal groans in protest. I have to keep reminding myself why staying away is best for us both. I struggle too much with the PTSD and paranoia my upbringing induced to allow myself to bond with her.
Forcing her to face every single moment of my emotional turmoil as if it were her own is the last thing I want to do. She deserves to be surrounded by the sunshine Ridley swears she brings.
“Come on Lex, we brought food from the Filipino restaurant across town.” Her voice washes over me. My name falling from her lips makes every hair on my body stand on end. Being close is torture, but I’ll spend every minute of my life suffering if it means keeping her safe.
“Okay, we have Beef Salpicao, Chicken Inasal, and an insane amount of garlic fried rice.” Ridley pulls out containers as he names the dishes, arranging them beside the plates he has already pulled from the cabinet.
“And Halo-Halo!” Bea adds where she is placing one of the large paper bags into their freezer.
With just the three of us here, it feels like we are sitting down to a pack dinner. This could be our future if my trauma didn’t have me in a chokehold.
Shaking myself free from the longing the pull between us causes, I grab a plate and dish small amounts of food on it before disappearing down the hallway. I knock on Omen’s bedroom door before swinging it open. The room is empty and the door to her nest is closed. I stomp over and bang on the door several times before sitting the plate off to the side. Still within view, but she won’t hit it if she opens the door.
Satisfied my charge has fresh food within reach, I make a plate for myself and claim an armchair in the living room. Bea and Ridley are side by side on the couch, sharing bites of their food while she scrolls through a streaming app to find something to watch.
Ridley passes out first, his loud snores filling the room alongside the paranormal teen drama playing on the TV. She shakes him, commanding him to go sleep in her bed. He tries to drag her along, but she slips from his arms and gathers the snack wrappers and empty plates. He hesitates, swaying on his feet, so I wave him off and help her.
Bea slips down the hall and returns with a pillow and blanket, laying them on the end of the couch. She joins me at the sink, rinsing the dishes I am washing. Her arm brushes against mine, the soft skin like a live wire sending an electrical current through my body. I’m hyper aware of how close we are. How strong her scent is when she’s inches away. I missed the salty undertones, like an ocean breeze blowing across the sun-kissed shore of a tropical island.
“Do you want anything else?” Her voice takes on a breathy tone as she leans against the counter, those midnight blue eyes riveted to my arms as I dry off my hands.
A single lapse in control. A breath too deep and filled with the sweet notes of her arousal, and I’m pinning her to the island. My arms framing her body where my palms slap against the granite. Her lips are soft against mine, filled with hints of the candy she had for a late-night snack. She doesn’t let me take control for long, her tongue sneaking out to tease along mine and her teeth nipping at my lips. It’s a battle for dominance, sparking a fire in my balls. I burn for the tight grip of her pussy around my cock.
She pulls back, her chest heaving against mine as she tries to catch her breath. I freeze, realizing what I’ve done. Her eyes turn cold when I step away, my mouth opening to admit I messed up.
“Don’t.”
I bite my cheek hard enough my mouth fills with blood as she walks away, a little extra sway in her hips. The door to her bedroom slams shut and reality crashes down around me. Fucking hell, I’m an asshole.