Chapter 41
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
I’ve just finished binding my father’s wrists when my pack rushes into the operating theater.
I’m hit with their scents immediately: cedar and bergamot, towering pines and winter winds, sunshine and salty sea air, red wine and juicy cherries.
I let their scents wrap around me, and the relief coursing through our bonds washes over me.
They’re battered and bruised, covered in hex marks, but saints, they’re alive, and I’ve never seen a more beautiful sight than my men.
I run into Luca’s arms, hugging him gingerly.
“Princess, you’re bleeding!” he exclaims, his hand on my bare back.
“And you got hexed!” I argue.
“I’m okay,” he promises. Still, he sets his booted foot on my father’s chest and pushes, knocking my father to the ground. “Dickbag,” he mutters.
My father curses at Luca, spittle flying from his mouth.
“Cease,” I command.
My father’s curses cut off immediately.
“You’ve improved so much in your command, my darling,” Ian says, taking me into his arms when Luca offers me to him.
“Let me heal your back.” I turn when he gestures for me to and feel a rush of cold air over the sticky, drying blood on my back.
The incision isn’t deep, and Ian casts a few healing spells over it.
I feel the flesh knit back together, which sends a shiver down my spine, but I know the wound will still scar.
Ian draws me into his arms once more, and presses a kiss to my forehead, to each of my cheeks, to the tip of my nose and to my lips.
“I’m so glad you’re safe. We’ll get you cleaned up when we get you home. ”
Simon swears at my father’s dictaphone before just pocketing the whole thing as evidence.
He plugs a USB drive into the computer and quickly transfers files off my father’s laptop, his brow wrinkling as he clicks on an MRI scan.
The moment I’m passed into his arms from Ian, I stand up on my tiptoes and kiss the little furrow in his brow.
“Kit-kat,” he breathes. “You were so brave.”
Marcus comes up behind me and gently tugs his hoodie on over my ruined shirt, covering my bare back. I turn into his arms, nuzzling my nose into his neck, breathing him in. All the weariness in my body disappears as I scent my mate, as he tilts my chin up and brushes the sweetest kiss over my lips.
“I’ve never been more worried in my life, sweet-tart. We felt our bonds with you go dark.”
“My father sedated me. That must have been what you felt. And he locked my magic again.”
“You undid your own lock?” Ian asks, pride shining in his blue eyes.
“It was only ten sigils,” I say, basking in his praise.
Finally, I’m passed into Cassian’s arms and hug him tightly.
He holds me close, resting his head on my shoulder.
“You have no idea how scared we were. We were pinned down and felt a flash of fear from you. Then, like Marcus said, our bonds went dark. When our bonds finally came back online, saints, Junes, you had resolved yourself to death on that table, hadn’t you? ”
I don’t trust my voice. I nod into his neck, and he holds me for a long moment. “But I beat him,” I finally say.
“That you did,” Cassian says, kicking my father back to the floor. “Bastard.”
“Your family?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” he admits. A faint flicker of fear cuts through our bond. “We came straight to you, love.”
“I’m sure the resistance freed them,” I say, but I’m just as agitated as my alpha. I need to see them alive with my own eyes.
“You’ll pay for what you’ve done!” my father spits. “Traitor witch.”
I turn to him and arch a brow. “Not before you do, Father. Baphomet’s Prince may control the Council of Nine, but the people won’t stand for what you’ve done. They won’t stand for the wholesale slaughter of omegas.”
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Luca says, hoisting my father to his feet with a shove. Luca’s knees briefly buckle from my father’s affinity, but my mate socks him in the face. “Enough of that, you piece of shit.”
Stop! I command my father in my mind.
His expression goes blank instantly.
Interesting. I can command people mentally. I file that away for later. Something I’ll need to practice, something I’ll need to master.
We march my father out of the operating theater, all of my mates keeping their scribes trained on him. Around me, the sounds of battle are dying down. As we pass the treatment rooms the omegas were kept in, we find them all empty—every last omega rescued.
Aimee advances on one final Soldier of Saint Aldous, lightning crackling in one of her hands.
The Soldier turns tail and runs, but that doesn’t stop Aimee from letting her lightning loose.
It strikes the masked man in the back, and he falls to the ground, twitching.
“Phew,” she says, rubbing her hands together until the flickers of lightning die out. “Guess that’s done, huh?”
“We’re getting the hell out of here. You’re welcome to join us.”
“Is that your father, Junie?”
“Yes, unfortunately.”
“Witch!” he hisses.
Aimee comes as close to him as she dares and spits right in his face.
My father bucks against his bindings and Luca’s hold, but one mental command has him stilling again.
“New skill? I’m a fan. I’ll let you and your pack deal with this villain. I’m going to go protect the other omegas on their way out.”
I hug her, squeezing her tightly. “I’m so glad you made it out alive, Aimee.”
“Then get excited,” she whispers. “Because we all did.”
My heart stutters in my chest. “Truly?”
“All of us and every last test subject. You should see what Blair did to the collars after we got them off.”
I laugh. “I can imagine. Saints, I can’t believe we did it. All right, go, protect the omegas you freed.”
“We really did it, huh?” She gives me a cheeky grin and gives my hand a quick squeeze before dashing off after the other omegas.
My father sneers, spit still dribbling down his cheek, ruining any fear he once would have instilled in me with that look. “This is just a minor setback.”
“Oh, shut the fuck up, already,” Marcus rumbles. “You lost.”
Damn fucking right he did.
I force my father through the consortium’s front doors and take in the scene before me.
Soldiers have been rounded up and bound in groups along the sweeping stairs.
The sounds of battle have all but subsided, but smoke still rises from the stairs where the fighting spilled out to.
They’re covered in rubble, battle-scarred from missed hexes, but still standing proud.
We did it. I can feel my wound itching as it heals and dried blood tugging at my skin, but we did it. I’ll wear the scar on my back forever, but as a badge of honor. I took down my father, we freed the hostages, and we freed the omega test subjects. And not a single omega life was lost.
The media have gathered around the blocked-off perimeter of the consortium’s sprawling entrance, cameras snapping and flashing in the dark of night.
I shove my father down the stairs, driving him forward with subtle commands when he stalls, taking him down to where the press is eagerly awaiting any information they can get.
“Kneel,” I command my father in a low voice, “and confess.”
He has no choice but to comply. He tries to shake off my command, his mind muddled, but my magic is too strong for him to buck.
“I, Redwood Rose, confess to the experimentation on and murder of one hundred and nineteen omegas.” His eyes widen, aghast at what I’ve just forced him to admit.
“I was taking their affinities to give to alphas within the Soldiers of Saint Aldous, all for the glory of Baphomet’s Prince.
I used no anesthetic as I cut into them.
Many of the Soldiers called me ‘the butcher’ for my work, but I did it all for my Prince. Long may he reign.”
Gerard approaches from the middle of the stairs where I see the rest of Pack Leclerc gathered, Bethany’s arms around her son.
I breathe out a sigh of relief when I see them.
They’re battered and weak, but they’re alive, and they’re back together.
I send Cass all the love I can through our bond, and he looks up at me, meeting my eye.
Relief floods through our mating bond, potent and poignant.
“Under the authority of the Council of Nine,” Gerard says, a hard edge to his voice. “You’re arrested for the murder of one hundred and nineteen omegas, conducting unlawful and barbaric experiments, and for aiding and abetting the Soldiers of Saint Aldous.”
Does he have the authority now that the Council of Nine is under the Prince’s control?
It doesn’t seem to matter to the news teams. They snap his picture and damning photographs of my father on his knees.
Exactly where he belongs. Whether he has the authority or not, Gerard speaks as if he does.
As if he wasn’t facing down the impossible challenge of wresting control of the Council from Baphomet’s Prince.
“Further,” he declares. “I arrest the Soldiers of Saint Aldous who we have bound on these steps.”
It’s an empty action, but the media doesn’t know that. After all, the Soldiers rarely stay in prison.
Gerard acting as the head of the Council of Nine in front of the media will surely help turn the tide back in our favor.
“Where are the freed omega test subjects?” a reporter interjects.
Gerard glares at her. “They’re being relocated to a safe and undisclosed location.”
“Did the resistance help in this endeavor?” another journalist asks.
Gerard stares straight into the camera. “They did. From this day forward, members of the resistance will no longer face treason charges. I will reclaim the Council of Nine and make it so. Nearly three hundred hostages, myself included, have the resistance to thank for their freedom tonight.”