Chapter 4 #2
I assume she’s safe there, considering she’s lived there her entire life, but… what if I’m wrong?
And I just… left her there.
My hands tighten on the edge of the table, making the wood creak. Unclenching my jaw, I peel each finger away from the oak one by one and then place my palms on my thighs for good measure, hoping no one noticed what just happened.
My eyes shift back to the guys. I can’t lose it right now. Especially not in front of my entire team, my pack, and—
“I swear to fucking Fates, I’ll tranq all of you and sleep like a baby afterwards.” The door swings open and Gavran’s aggrieved voice rolls through the room like thunder. His large frame takes up all the available space, which is enough to kill the conversation.
Gav glances around the table, cataloging our attendance.
“Where’s Evander?” He asks, dropping into his seat at the head of the table.
“He’s on the horn with one of the boys at Chicago HQ,” Ford explains, tapping his cigarette case against his knee. “An Omega randomly showed up there, outta nowhere, no idea who she is or how she got there. She doesn’t match any of our missing-person profiles.”
Gav frowns. “That’s… unusual.”
He scratches at his jaw, then mumbles, almost to himself, “What the hell is going on with Omegas lately?”
No one answers. No one has an answer to give. Dax is grinding his molars down to nubs; the lack of answers is getting to him.
“Evander thinks we ought to dig into it more,” Ford adds. “I’ve got to say—I’m with him on this one.”
“Agreed,” Gav gives him a single decisive nod. “I want you and Evander on the first flight to Chicago in the morning. I’ll let them know to expect you. Find out who the hell the Omega is, and why she showed up at a Bastard’s compound of all places.”
Something in my chest flares hot and uncomfortable. My hand clenches into a tight fist on my thigh. I straighten it out, flexing my fingers.
I need to relax. This—whoever this Omega is—has nothing to do with Idril. She isn’t in Chicago. I left her at her home, not thirty miles away. She’s fine. Safe.
She’s safe.
…Right?
The cruel glint in her father’s eyes flashes through my mind, and I tense, trying not to shudder with anxiety.
Fates, did I make the right choice leaving her there? Should I have just taken her and said fuck the consequences?
Gav’s voice drops an octave, stealing my attention.
“Make sure she gets back to her family, or her pack if she has one.” He hesitates before adding, “Be gentle. She could have been stolen, trafficked… or worse. We don’t want to scare her, just find out what happened.”
Gentle.
Was Varenthrall gentle with Idril after they left her room?
He certainly hadn’t bothered to be gentle with her when I was watching.
Is he always like that? Is she covered in bruises under that oversized sweatshirt?
Did Alexander—
No.
Fuck. I can’t think about it. I fucking can’t. If I do, I’ll lose my shit.
I catch myself eyeing the door, wondering if I can slip out without notice and haul ass back to her.
I force my eyes away from the door and back on my teammates.
“Wait—I’m not going?” Silas’s head snaps up. He turns wounded eyes on Gav, his long, unstyled Mohawk flopping over his forehead.
“No.” Gav’s tone is final. “I’d send Ford alone, but he needs backup. You’re staying here. I can’t have your entire pack gone while things are still hot here with Deadwalkers. I wouldn’t send Evander either, but he’s their first point of contact.”
Gav leans in, braces his forearms on the table, and levels Silas with a look. “I need someone there who will stay calm around a fragile Omega. If I send you, she’ll wind up on a cocktail of anxiety meds.”
“I can be calm!” Silas insists indignantly.
“Yeah. Calm as a godsdamned nuke,” Vae grunts.
“Enough,” Gavran’s bark cuts through the disorder, and everyone shuts up.
There are too many shifting pieces. Too much is happening at once. I’m starting to understand why Dax seemed so uneasy last night. Varenthrall, the Severed, an uptick in missing Omegas, including one randomly showing up thousands of miles away in Chicago.
And… a girl I physically ache to have in my arms.
“Who wants to tell me how tonight’s recon went?” Gav asks, folding his arms over his muscled chest and leaning back in his chair, legs spread wide.
My gaze slowly wanders the room before catching Dax’s. He holds it, eyes narrowed in something close to suspicion.
He’s assessing. Calculating. His eyes sharpen and my stomach sinks.
Fuck. He knows.
I don’t know what he knows, but I recognize that look. It’s the same one he gets when there’s a particularly juicy puzzle he’s sunk his teeth into.
Alright. This is fine. He can’t possibly know exactly what I’m feeling. Can’t know I stood outside the bedroom of a human girl for forty minutes staring at her longingly like some moron in a nineties chick flick.
There’s no way.
Dax is good, but not astral-projection good.
I don’t exhale until he lowers his eyes and turns toward Gav, and I know he isn’t going to say anything. Not tonight, at least.
“Security was minimal around the house. Outside of the wards, he only has a few motion sensors and security patrolling the perimeter. One male, clearly a human. Caelan reported Alexander arriving at around 2100 and walking in without knocking.”
I cut in, grateful for something to focus on besides blue eyes and long white hair I want to wrap around my fist.
“The main house is large, but the security is standard and less than excessive. The security on the secondary structure is far more extensive.”
Gav’s gaze sharpens with interest. “What secondary structure?”
“It’s at the far Northwest back of the property. About the size of a pool house. No windows, one door, with concrete walls and metal roofing. There are motion sensors, a keypad lock that looks high-tech, and multiple cameras. It looks new.”
Silas sits up. “So it’s new construction?”
“It’s not on any blueprints or property records, so it must be,” Dax answers, clicking furiously through websites on his laptop. “I haven’t found any record of it.”
“Could be off the books,” Ford suggests. “What do you think it’s for?”
I swallow thickly, not wanting to say out loud what we’re all thinking. “Could be storage, could be some kind of shed—”
“Could be a prison for trafficked Omegas,” Silas snarls, never one to hold back.
My hands fist, my short nails digging into the meat of my palms as I fight to keep myself grounded. The thought of all those Omegas being so close while we’re sitting here debating the possibility… It makes my stomach churn.
I’ve seen so many fucked up things in this life, but the one thing that never gets any easier with time are abused Omegas.
It doesn’t matter if the abuse is new or ongoing, emotional or physical—the idea of an Alpha twisting the biological need for an Omega into something that harms rather than protects will never make fucking sense to me.
I’ve spent centuries rescuing Omegas from various shit situations. I think that’s part of what makes these feelings so confusing. I’ve been around Omegas millions of times and never once have I wanted one the way I want Idril.
Do I like the way they smell? I mean fuck… of course. I’m an Alpha. I’ve scented thousands of Omegas, but never have my instincts reached out the way they did tonight. Never have I felt like my fucking soul is screaming for an Omega as it did for her.
Vae kicks his feet up onto the table. “I’ll help Dax keep digging,” he offers, unsheathing his dagger and using the sharp point to clean under his nails.
“Good,” Gav inclines his head. “What else?”
I continue the rest of the report, carefully skirting around the amount of time I spent standing outside Idril’s window staring at her like a stalker. For fucks sake, all I’d need is a mask, and I’ll be the main character in a Dark Romance.
If Vae ever found out, he would never let me live it down.
Of course, only once I think I’m in the clear does Dax choose to add his own helpful commentary.
“There’s the daughter,” he says lazily, as though he just now thought of bringing her up for further discussion.
I feel my muscles tense, but I refuse to react.
His eyes on me have been a physical weight these last ten minutes, and I know he’s been cataloging each one of my expressions and micro-expressions.
Probably searching for anything that supports whatever theory about Idril he’s created in his head.
“Caelan confirmed her residence. Twenty-two, long white hair, about five feet tall, with a small build. Absolutely no online presence, which is… interesting.”
“Kept sheltered by her father?” Gav suggests. “That idea isn’t out of the realm of possibility. Lots of Alpha fathers are overly protective of their Omega daughters.”
Dax hums in consideration, and his eyes flick to me, studying my reaction. “Assuming she’s an Omega.”
I feel the weight of my team’s attention waiting for my answer.
“I scented suppressants so, yes, I’m confident she’s an Omega.”
There. Clean-cut. Factual. Precise. Nothing wrong with that answer at all.
Except, apparently I’m wrong, because Dax’s fingers still over his keyboard and his eyes snap to mine. “You were close enough to scent suppressants?”
Fuck.
“I was close enough to confirm,” I keep my voice even and my eyes on his.
He holds my gaze for a beat too long before dropping it to refocus on the screen of his laptop. “I’d like to find more information about her. She could be a part of this. I wouldn’t be shocked if she knows exactly what her father’s doing.”
Something inside of me snaps to attention, irritated at his assumptions that are based on nothing except her designation.
He doesn’t know her. None of us do.
“She does not.” My words are half snarl, half shout, but it’s too late to regret them. I should shut up after that, but something is heating my blood, pushing me to protect her even though she doesn’t even know I exist.