Chapter Eighteen
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
SHARING THE SAME blood doesn’t make you family. My half-brother Marcus is proof of that. The consequences of his decisions are not mine to bear, yet I cannot rest while he ruins the legacy my parents built, dragging our family name through the thickest mud. My misplaced guilt doesn’t want to accept he’s still running free after discovering his alleged involvement with a breeding ring.
I watch the footage from the warehouse raid for the hundredth time. He wasn’t there. I confirmed as much with my own eyes when I joined the team sweeping the upper floors. My mind is trying to convince me I will catch a glimpse of him, anyway.
Slamming the lid to my laptop closed, I tip my beer to my lips and let the cool liquid slide down my throat. Obsessing blindly won’t get me anywhere. If I am going to find Marcus, I need a new plan.
Leaning against my desk, I study the map of the East Coast pinned to my office wall. Red pins cover the page, marking each disappearance suspected to be related to the breeding ring. Green pins are the ones we’ve rescued, and the rare black pins mark the suspected warehouses and camps we have already raided.
Two thousand six hundred and forty-nine red dots, a little over three hundred green, and only six black... It isn’t enough. Even one person left in their clutches would be too much.
How are they slipping through the cracks this easily?
My phone rings with a call from my boss, Maximilliam Porter. I’m tempted to ignore it. Feign sleep to avoid the lecture I know is coming.
“Porter.”
“Credence. I knew you would be awake. Still watching the raid footage, or have you moved on to rereading missing person files?”
I scowl at my phone. This asshole. “What do you need, Max?”
“We have visual confirmation of Marcus Brown entering the Wexern anti-designation compound in Alabama.”
“Fuck!” The bottle slips from my hand, spilling the rest of my beer onto the floor. I run a hand over my head before grabbing a towel from the kitchen and cleaning up my mess. “How is a minor New York City gang suddenly connected to extremist groups up and down the coast?”
Porter sighs, sounding weary. We’ve been running ourselves ragged trying to bring this criminal ring down for the past few months. The agency can’t catch a break. “That’s what we’re trying to figure out. Look, I know you want to take Marcus down. This is personal for you, but I need your head in the game. He is one player on the board and he isn’t anywhere near the top of their ranks.”
“I got you. If I get the chance, I won’t back down, but I won’t let personal problems impede a mission.” I hate the thought of letting Marcus slip away to grab a bigger bad, but that’s the way this life works. If we only ever take out the mid-level players, their bosses will just hire new bodies in their place.
The line clicks when he ends the call, so I set my phone aside. Dropping the dirty towel in the bathroom laundry basket, my eyes catch on the picture of my parents hanging on the hallway wall. It’s well over fifteen years old, taken when I was in my second year of high school. Ma’s arm is wrapped tight around me, the biggest smile on her face. Dad stands on my other side, one hand clapped on my shoulder and a goofy grin on his face.
My parents were happy. Grossly in love, too. Our life wasn’t without problems. Racism exists everywhere and affects anyone of color, even Black men renowned for doing good in their communities. They persevered through the harshest struggles. Finding faith in the darkest of places.
Then they were gone. Lost in a house fire that destroyed my childhood home and claimed both my parent’s lives. Leaving me an orphan at seventeen.
Sometimes, when I wake in the middle of the night with my heart racing, I can still smell the smoke that permeated the street that night. I was staying with a friend from the basketball team. When one of my neighbors called to tell me what was going on, my friend’s parents had driven me across town and waited with me while the fire department put out the blaze.
It took months for them to clear the case. The fire investigators had unearthed threats against my father pointing to potential arson, but it was eventually determined to be an electrical fire. An accident.
At their funeral, I learned of Marcus’ existence. He swaggered into the service and plopped down next to our family lawyer, handing him a slip of paper. Paternity results that proved he was my half-brother. My grief paired with his accusations sparked an early presentation, and my alpha did not take his insults against my father well. I nearly beat him to death before my uncles could pull me away.
Seeing proof with my own eyes, the pedestal I’d held my father on had crumbled. But he wasn’t alive to explain how he had another child, born two years after me. I had to make peace with not knowing, because I refused to trust Marcus’ mother. A woman who had conveniently hid her son’s parentage until my father had died.
A few days before I left for the military training academy, I ran into Marcus again. He was almost eighteen then, and already knee deep in gang life. I knew as I met his eyes across the diner, we would never be more than enemies with a shared bloodline.
I never imagined he would stoop so low as to involve himself in forced breeding. This is a line he can never recover from crossing. One that will cost him his life.
Forcing myself to walk away from my parent’s picture, I grab my keys and step into the garage. Driving around the city aimlessly might not accomplish much, but what else is there to do? I won’t be able to sleep properly until we’ve dismantled this entire breeding operation.
Hours of chasing empty leads find me sitting at the counter in a twenty-four-hour diner. The greasy floors and weathered benches leave much to be desired, but each bite of my burger tastes better than the last. It’s surprisingly crowded for three in the morning on a Tuesday. I must have accidentally discovered a local hot spot.
Someone claims the seat beside me. Porter’s familiar mossy cedar scents briefly hits me over the scent of fryer oil and burgers cooking on the grill. He orders a soda and a burger, not saying anything for a long while. Only after he’s eaten, does he lean back in his chair and look at me. “Kid, you need to find a pack. Or a girlfriend. Living for the agency is admirable, but what point is there if you don’t have a life outside work?”
I tried to find a pack. Dated around a bit. Nothing ever felt right. I can’t force Fate to make paths cross faster. “Don’t worry, I have all my vacation days saved up for when I find them.”
He lets out a dramatic huff and rolls his eyes. “Use them now. You know HR will never sign off on ten years’ worth of saved vacation time.”
Grinning, I shrug my shoulders. “Never know till I ask ‘em, will I?”
Porter laughs, throwing several bills down on the counter before we leave. “Go home. Get some sleep. I mean it, Barrett. If I catch word of you working today, I’ll put you on desk duty for a month.”
Staring up at the bleak sky, I relent. One day of rest won’t impede us from bringing these bastards down.
“Okay assholes, listen up!”
I slow to a jog around the gym track when Porter calls us all in. I’d taken a day off, but my thoughts are still narrowed to putting an end to Marcus and the breeding ring.
Our team gathers around a table at the front corner where a file folder is waiting for us. “One of our CIs gave us a link between the Eternals and the breeding ring. Their new leader, Leon Burke, is related to the current leader of the Alabama anti-designation chapter. Cousins.”
We share matching looks of disgust. No one here agrees with that bullshit. How anyone in the modern world can, is beyond me. I suppose science-based facts aren’t enough to overcome years of ingrained hatred and bias.
“With this knowledge, and the known drug trafficking routes for the Eternals along the East Coast, we also have a new lead on one of their breeding camps.” He spreads the aerial photos in the folder out on the table. It’s an old airplane hangar, worn from years of disuse. Grass has taken over the runway, but fresh gravel leads away from the building.
“We’re taking in four teams for this one. Two will handle the interior of the hangar. A third will catch anyone who runs and watch for reinforcements from the main road. The fourth is securing this small outbuilding to the north. From what we can tell, it is an old hunting cabin. One way in, one way out.”
I listen as we go over the plan twice, making sure everyone knows their roles before we hit the road. It’s an hour and a half drive to the hangar. A long time to be packed in an armored van and sweating my ass off in my gear, but it will be worth it if Marcus is here.
The forest is quiet as we stalk between the trees. There aren’t any vehicles within view, only a building bordering on collapse. What is curious is the closed hangar door. The gleam of the white metal doesn’t match the haggard exterior. It’s too new.
Daniels, the captain of this mission, motions for us to split into our preassigned groups. I go to the left, staying hidden among the tree trunks as we maneuver toward the hunting cabin. It appears to be abandoned, with dust covered windows and a sagging roof.
I move to the back with one of our rookies, watching the faded windows. Static crackles in our earpieces, our go signal. The guys at the front breach the cabin door and muffled screams pierce the air. Several seconds later we get the all clear.
Jogging to the front, I step inside and wince. Tied to the cabin’s metal bed frame is a young omega. The sharp scent of her distress fills the air around us, as full of her fear as her expression. I rip my helmet off and step closer, raising my hands so she can see I’m not reaching for a weapon.
“My name is Creed Barrett. I work with the FCDA. We aren’t here to hurt you.”
She whimpers, tears rolling down her cheeks. I can’t make out her words with the piece of fabric shoved in her mouth, but relief is clear in her expression.
“I’m going to reach for the knife at my hip and cut through your bindings to release you. Nod if that is okay.”
When she nods, I grab my knife and step closer, moving slowly and telling her directly where I am moving next. She scoots to the back corner of the bed, rubbing around the broken skin on her wrists and ankles. It’s obvious this poor woman has been through hell.
We need to gut this trafficking ring soon and put an end to these atrocities.
Gunfire sounds at the main hangar, putting us all on alert. I slip my helmet back on and take up a position by the door. On my signal, the rest of the agents in my group head toward the building. A car explodes out of the back before they make it past the edge of the tree line.
Bullets spray through the trees in our direction as the vehicle careens wildly down a dirt path. I duck behind the wall until there is a gap in their shots. Peering through the scope of my gun, I growl when I see fucking Marcus sitting in the passenger’s seat.
Running around my teammates, I dive behind a tree as he opens fire again. If I can hit his back tire, he won’t be able to escape. Twisting around, I take aim. A deep breath in, and a slow exhale as I squeeze the trigger. The car swerves at the last second and my shot hits the dirt instead. Without something to hinder their progress, they’re moving too quickly for us to catch up on foot.
“Fuck!” My fist slams against the bark of the tree, the pain muted by my gloves.
I failed.
Again.
“Hangar is clear,” Daniels says over comms. My teeth dig into my cheek to bite back my instinct to lash out. Not every job proceeds with flawless precision. That’s an inevitability you learn quickly in this line of work.
Stepping back into the cabin, I slip my long sleeve shirt off and pass it to the omega. “We are moving to the main hangar until a team of paramedics can arrive on the scene. Can you walk, or would you be comfortable with me carrying you?”
She slips my shirt on, wrinkling her nose at the remnants of my scent on the fabric. Her feet hit the floor, and she pushes herself to stand, but she buckles beneath her own weight. The damage to her ankles is extensive, but I don’t want to force her into something she is uncomfortable with.
“I… “
“Let me help. I will sit you down as soon as we reach the main hangar.”
After a slow nod, I sweep her into my arms and leave this awful place behind. Unfortunately, the sight awaiting us in the other building isn’t any less nauseating. Cages line one wall, filled with shaking and terrified women of all designations.
I find an empty office chair and gently deposit her into it. Tilting my head to her, I signal for the rookie to stand guard nearby. If she were to faint, she could hurt herself on the concrete floor.
Daniels is at the other end of the large room, phone pressed to his ear. I wait patiently for his call to end before I fill him in on what we found at the cabin. “Marcus Brown was in the vehicle that escaped, confirming the Eternals’ ties to the breeding ring.”
“I saw him too. It’s time to round up gang members. One of them knows where these women were being sent. Then we can bury this entire operation and free the victims they have trapped in their camps.”
Fate be damned, I will see my half-brother behind bars or six feet under. No one involves themselves in something this heinous and walks away free, especially not a Barrett. We help the people in our communities, we don’t fucking traffic them.