Chapter Nine #2
Voss stills, but his eyes darken. Gregor exhales roughly, closing his eyes for a beat before speaking again.
“That’s all I have left to give. I can tell you the names of the men I do know are part of this, but none of them know who’s in charge.
The only name we’ve ever heard is ‘M’—and I know that’s not helpful. ”
My stomach turns at his following words.
“I don’t know the exact location of the warehouse, I’m sorry. After I give you the names, all I ask is that you make our deaths quick.” His expression is blank, hollow, resigned. “We never wanted to do this. It’s immoral. It’s disgusting. And I’m too tired to keep going.”
That pulls me from Kingston’s grasp. I step forward, my boots click sharply against the floor as I make my way back into the pit. “Then why do it at all?” My voice isn’t mocking. It’s not soft either. It’s sharp, edged in something raw and bitter.
Gregor lets out a slow, weary sigh, then turns his head toward Ozias, his expression shifting, softening into something almost painful to look at.
Love.
Genuine, absolute love.
“They grabbed us a month ago,” he finally says, his voice thick with exhaustion. “We were living on the streets. They separated us. Demanded obedience. And every time I refused…” His throat bobs, his fingers twitching. “I could hear him screaming.”
The room is so silent I can hear the blood dripping from his chest hitting the floor.
“I broke,” he admits, voice hoarse. “I couldn’t take much more of them hurting him because of me.” His lips press into a thin line before he continues. “They cleaned us up. Dressed us. Then they threatened to kill us both if we didn’t follow orders.”
I watched him for a long moment, studying the weariness lining his face, the weight pressing against his shoulders. “In another life, Gregor, I think we could have been friends.”
His lips twitch, just slightly, like he wants to smile but can’t quite remember how. “An honor, I’m sure, is my loss.”
I exhale, turning to Voss, my voice now soft and sad. “Get what you need, baby.”
His dark eyes lock onto mine, heated, hungry, understanding precisely what I mean.
I reach for him, pressing a hard kiss to his mouth, quick and fierce. When I pull back, his gaze is almost reverent, but his face remains unreadable. Still, he tilts his head toward the door.
I take my cue and walk out, leaving the pit behind. Some things a girl can’t unsee.
Kingston
March 21st
1:42 A.M
It took days—painful, restless days—to track down the right building and confirm it was actually the place we were looking for.
Leads went nowhere, false sightings frustrated us at every turn, and tension simmered just below the boiling point.
John and Colby were immediately ready to storm the place, driven nearly mad by desperation.
I couldn't blame them; the thought of Fallon in that hell made my skin crawl, and my blood ignite.
But charging in without a solid plan would get people killed—or worse, would cost us the lives of the very omegas we were trying to save.
After endless hours of surveillance, stakeouts, and hacking into security cameras, we finally pinpointed the correct building—an abandoned-looking warehouse hidden at the edge of town.
Despite the apparent neglect, subtle details told us the place was fortified and closely monitored: discreetly placed cameras, frequent guard rotations, and reinforced doors.
It wasn’t a random hideout—it was a secure facility meant to look unassuming to anyone not trained to notice.
I had to physically hold John back when he first saw the grainy security footage.
His omega’s pain reflected in his eyes like a living wound.
Colby paced relentlessly, fists clenched, every ounce of patience we asked for visibly draining him.
It took hours of careful explanation, mapping out entry points, counting guards, and assessing weak spots to calm them down—to make them realize that going in unprepared could mean losing everything.
“Stop right here.”
Jace pulls the SUV to a smooth halt at the curb, the van following close behind, its headlights cutting through the darkened street before being shut off.
The engine hums softly, barely a sound against the muffled city noise in the distance.
Jace’s fingers move quickly over the steering wheel controls, and within seconds, Colby’s voice filters through the speakers.
“The warehouse on the right is the one we’re looking for.
” I don’t take my eyes off the building, scanning its worn-down exterior, the dim yellow glow from the windows, and the reinforced side entrance.
I can already see the weak points—the places where the walls are rotting, sagging inward.
Whoever runs this operation doesn’t care about maintaining appearances.
I wouldn’t expect them actually to care for the omega's needs, but hell, putting them in actual danger before whatever they are doing doesn’t make sense to me.
As I speak, a slow exhale leaves my chest, my voice steady, controlled, and absolute.
“We move in through the back. Most of us can move like ghosts, so we do this clean. No wasted movement. No unnecessary noise.” I let my words settle before shifting my gaze to the van.
“Colby, you and John are in charge of extracting the omegas. The moment you have them all, get them into the van and take them to my house. We’ll sort things out once we return. ”
Colby’s voice is calm but edged with anticipation. “Understood.”
Jace nods, adjusting his grip on the wheel, his expression unreadable. He’s already in the headspace needed for this—cold, precise, unaffected.
Voss shifts in the passenger seat beside me, rolling his shoulders like a predator loosening its muscles before the hunt. There’s an almost bored look on his face, but I know better. Voss is never bored when it comes to things like this.
“And the rest of us?” Romano asks from the backseat, his usual easygoing tone now edged with something sharp, something lethal.
I glance at him through the rearview mirror. His brown eyes glint in the dim lighting, unreadable yet hungry. I roll my sleeves up, slow and deliberate.
“The rest of us?” I echo, my lips curving into something that isn’t quite a smile. “We slit the throats of those in charge.”
A slow, humming silence follows my words, stretching between us like the final breath before a war cry.
We slip from the vehicles silently, and the darkness swallows us whole.
The only sounds are our controlled breaths, the muffled crunch of boots against dirt, and the distant hum of a passing car far beyond the alley.
The warehouse looms ahead. It’s not security that would worry me in a place like this. It’s the risk of the damn ceiling caving in before we even get inside.
We move in formation, silent, deliberate. Jace is on my right, his presence a steady force, while Voss stays to my left, a living shadow, his steps soundless as he prowls forward. Romano follows just behind, his fingers twitching slightly, eager for action.
Colby and John bring up the rear at the back of the group, their movements tense but controlled. John’s breathing is measured, but I can tell he’s on edge, ready to tear through anyone standing between him and his omega.
We reach the rear entrance, where a dented metal door hangs slightly ajar. I motion for Colby and John to hold the position while the rest of us press forward.
Jace crouches slightly, pointing to the ground just outside the door. I follow his gaze, my face going slack with shock.
A brick.
A fucking brick propped up to keep the door open like they’re welcoming guests.
Cigarette butts litter the ground, the acrid scent of old smoke lingering in the air.
If I could roll my eyes any harder, I’d be staring at the back of my own skull.
These idiots couldn’t have made this any easier if they’d left a damn welcome sign.
Voss lets out a slow exhale, low and almost amused, but his hands are already shifting toward his blades. Romano glances at me, grinning, but there’s nothing friendly about it. I press forward, barely a whisper of sound as I ease the door open. It’s time.
We move like shadows, a seamless, silent unit slipping one by one through the open doorway, swallowed by the darkness inside. The air is thick with the scent of stale cigarettes, damp wood, and something rotten lingering beneath it all.
Inside, the warehouse is just as decrepit as it looked from the outside.
Metal beams loom overhead, rusted and sagging under the weight of time and neglect.
The dim glow of flickering overhead lights cast broken patches of illumination across the cracked concrete floor, barely cutting through the dark corners.
Why is there such high security on the outside of the building if they just leave it to idiots to actually handle the inside?
Jace, Voss, Romano, and I fan out, positioning ourselves around John and Colby, keeping them shielded in the center.
They need to stay undetected, ready to move the omegas the moment we secure them.
Just ahead, two guards stand near a stack of wooden crates, talking in low, lazy tones, their posture loose—too relaxed, too fucking comfortable.
They don’t even know they’re already dead.
I glance at Jace. He’s already looking at me. I give him a simple nod.
I step forward, smooth and silent, closing the distance with predatory ease. The guard in front of me never even registers my presence before I clamp a hand over his mouth and twist, the sharp crack of his vertebrae snapping into place beneath my palm.
Jace moves just as fast.
His arm snakes around the other guard’s neck, twisting with brutal efficiency. A muffled gurgle, another sharp snap, and his body goes limp.
Their deaths are instant and silent. We don’t let them hit the ground.