Chapter 30 | Cole #2
The blade flew through the air, catching the overhead lighting in ways that sent reflected illumination dancing across the concrete walls.
It found its target. No flourish, no hesitation, surgical certainty.
Jude’s hands shot to his throat as understanding dawned behind those wide, icy eyes, and his mouth opened in a silent scream.
Blood painted the floor, its copper tang heavy in the air and spraying across the room like a bloody rainstorm.
My stomach churned, jaw aching from clenching.
His gasoline scent mixed with copper as consciousness faded according to the predictable timeline that governed blood loss and cerebral hypoxia.
He tried to speak, probably to issue threats or bargain for medical intervention, but severed arteries didn't respond to negotiation, and he collapsed on the concrete floor with the heavy finality of meat surrendering to gravity, his eyes lost focus, and his brain processed its final oxygen reserves.
I watched with clinical interest, noting the rate at which consciousness faded and motor functions ceased. Death was always educational when observed with proper scientific detachment, even when personally satisfying.
Behind Susie's chair, Angus had already moved with Highland fury that transformed him into something dark and primal.
His massive hands closed around Zaff's wrist, forcing the knife away from her throat with strength that made bones crack.
The drugs in Zaff's system provided artificial confidence but couldn't compensate for the reality of facing someone whose physical power operated on an entirely different scale.
Bennett shielded Susie from arterial spray, and I crouched beside Susie's chair while Angus ensured Zaff would threaten no one again. I checked for injuries while freeing her from the ropes that had burned and cut into her for hours.
Her lemon scent was returning to something closer to normal as the immediate threat receded, though it would take time for the chemical markers of terror to clear her system.
The scalp laceration above her left ear was superficial, bleeding heavily as head wounds typically did, but requiring only basic wound care rather than surgical intervention.
Her pupils were equal and reactive, indicating no significant head trauma despite the visible blood.
"You came for me," she whispered, disbelief coloring her voice as she tried to process the reality of rescue after hours of expecting death.
Her hands trembled as she reached toward me, seeking physical contact that could confirm this wasn't another nightmare designed to torture her with false hope.
"You're family now," I said simply, allowing my clinical mask to crack enough that she could see the genuine care beneath professional competence. "We protect family."
Her lips curved faintly. The words seemed to help her in ways that physical rescue couldn't achieve. Family meant belonging somewhere, being valued for more than utility or entertainment, and having people who would face deadly consequences to ensure your safety.
Dante appeared beside us with blankets retrieved from somewhere in the warehouse, wrapping one around her shoulders.
While I completed my medical assessment of Susie's condition, Angus produced keys he'd taken from Jude's corpse and began unlocking the cages that held the other Omega captives. Six young women in various states of physical and psychological trauma.
They pressed themselves against the backs of their cages as he approached, conditioned by experience to expect violence from any adult male who possessed keys to their confinement.
But Angus's chocolate scent had gentled to something warm and paternal, his massive frame somehow conveying protection rather than threat as he worked to free them from their metal prisons.
The cages were now open, but none of the girls dared to crawl out. I hung my head, saddened that they couldn’t even recognize help when it was given.
Susie stood up, shrugging off her blanket. She walked to each cage, giving them a blanket as a peace offering.
The first girl, barely seventeen, flinched at Susie’s hand. I swallowed hard as she helped her out, giving her a blanket and wrapping it around her.
The second shivered as Angus opened her cage. Her dark features and black frizzy hair coiled around her body. My stomach twisted violently, and I felt guilt flare sharply. How long had they been here? How did we not know?
The third Omega’s eyes were hollow; she was only a child, thirteen, fourteen, possibly. Rage and protective instinct coiled inside me.
The fourth stiffened when Angus held out his hand to help her out. But slowly, he coaxed her forward, wrapping her bony figure in a blanket. At this point, my pulse had spiked, imagining the pain of what she had endured.
Susie made her way to the fifth Omega. She had long, dirty blond hair and the widest blue eyes I’d ever seen. Rope marks were stark against her pale skin, and she avoided eye contact as she crawled out. My stomach flipped again, chest tight.
The sixth, and smallest, trembled as Dante pulled her out. She burst into tears, and he held her in his arms. She was only a child, a cold, bruised, battered child that needed all the love he could give.
How long had they been here? The question rose in my mind again.
No one had reported missing Omegas. No one had searched for them.
They were lost children, forgotten and abused.
I felt sick, and this time I couldn’t stop it.
Bile rose, and I turned away just in time, as I vomited all over the piss-ridden floor.
What made me feel sicker was the fact that there were eight cages in total, and the other two had dirty blankets in them and two dead children.
Had they died from starvation, or from the endless beatings that now decorated their bodies?
Upon first impression, I’d say they’d been there for at least two weeks.
I’d know more when I autopsied them. But those poor girls. What kind of a life was this?
Susie moved among them, voice firm: “These are my family. They came to save us. They’re safe, I promise.” My chest warmed, pride mixing with residual horror, adrenaline still humming beneath my skin.
The authority in her voice was remarkable considering what she'd endured, but it spoke to the fundamental resilience that had helped her survive abandonment, institutional care, and now kidnapping by professional criminals.
"Family," she repeated, the word carrying pride that made something unexpected stir in my chest. "I'm part of their pack now."
Her smile as she said it transformed her blood-streaked features into something radiant, revealing the young teenager she'd been before violence had temporarily stolen her light.
Despite everything she'd suffered, she was claiming her place among us with the kind of fierce certainty that spoke to bonds deeper than mere circumstance.
All the Omegas finally emerged from their cages. They moved with the careful steps of people whose bodies had been consistently abused, but their eyes were losing the hollow stare that spoke of hope permanently extinguished.
Dante found additional blankets to wrap around shivering forms while I conducted quick assessments for injuries requiring immediate medical attention. None of them appeared to be in immediate danger, though all would need extensive care once we'd transported them to safety.
Susie sat on the blanket Dante had draped around her shoulders, knees drawn close, eyes wide but no longer frantic. Her chest rose and fell unevenly, each breath a mixture of exhaustion, relief, and residual terror.
I knelt beside her, hands hovering for a moment, uncertain if my presence alone would reassure or startle. “It’s over,” I said softly, letting my voice carry calm certainty. “You’re safe.”
Her lips trembled slightly, and she bit the inside of her cheek, inhaling shakily. “I... I didn’t think anyone would come,” she whispered. My stomach flipped at the raw honesty in her voice, every syllable carrying hours of terror.
I reached out, brushing a strand of matted hair from her face, careful to avoid the dried blood on her scalp.
Her eyes followed my movements, pupils dilated, lashes wet.
She flinched at my touch, and my chest tightened.
I swallowed hard, letting the warmth in my chest radiate outward, hoping it would anchor her.
“We came for you. I promised family, and family doesn’t leave each other behind. ”
Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. She was still wary, still processing, still afraid... but she was alive, and that was all that mattered. I offered a small, steadying smile, letting her know without words that her fear was seen and that it didn’t have to control her anymore.
She leaned into my side, eyes closing just for a micro-second, testing if the safety I promised could exist. I let her, wrapping my arm around her shoulders, keeping the motion deliberate, unhurried, giving her space while asserting the stability she craved.
Her scent started to return to lemon, tinged with relief, and I felt a warmth bloom in my chest, a fatherly warmth, tempered by lingering adrenaline and the knowledge of what she had endured.
We sat like that for a while, wordless but connected, giving her time to process everything that had happened to her.
Then finally, her trembling eased, small breaths evened out, eyes softened, and her shoulders relaxed fractionally.
I could feel every small flinch, every subtle shiver, and I let it pass, offering silent protection with my presence, letting her know that no monster would breach this circle.
“Family,” she whispered, almost to herself. I nodded, squeezing her hand gently, letting my lips curl at the corners in a soft smile.
“Yes,” I said, voice low, steady. “Family.”
The warehouse remained dark around us, cold concrete pressing at our backs, but in that moment, a fragile warmth bloomed. Trust. She began to trust us. My chest felt warm and alive, and I silently promised that I would protect her for as long as I lived.
Bennett walked over to us. I smiled and stood up, helping Susie up and wrapping a blanket around her shoulders. "Take them home," I told Bennett as he helped support one of the younger girls who seemed barely able to walk unassisted. “And get them medical attention.”
He nodded, understanding without further explanation what needed to happen next.
“I’ll make sure they know they’re safe now.
” The rescued girls required immediate evacuation while Angus and I attended to the detailed cleanup work that would ensure no evidence remained to connect us to this location or these deaths.
Dante leaned closer, murmuring, “We’ll get them home. Safe. They’ll recover. And we’ll share the home. Together.” His chocolate scent, and the faint warmth radiating from him, grounded me, reminding me that we weren’t alone in carrying the burden.
I knew he was right. As soon as Heather saw these poor orphaned girls, she’d take them in and protect them like her own. I looked at Bennett as he helped the last girl from the room. “We’re going to need to build an even bigger house!”
He smiled and nodded, then left us to clean up.
I swallowed hard, feeling a lump in my throat, stomach tight as I tried to reconcile what we had done with what we had witnessed.
These girls, these six young lives, had survived because we had acted, because we were willing to put ourselves between them and monsters.
But the images, smells, and sounds... they lingered, curling in the corners of my mind like smoke refusing to dissipate.
I could feel it in every heartbeat, every breath: the responsibility wasn’t over. Not really.
Running a hand over my face, I brushed my hair back, jaw aching from clenching.
I inhaled sharply, attempting to empty my mind, but flashes returned: Susie’s wide, tear-filled eyes, the way her red hair stuck to blood on her scalp, the subtle micro-tremor of the youngest girl’s fingers as she reached for freedom.
My stomach flipped violently at the memory, bile threatening again, and I clenched my fists, forcing control over the tremor.
Once they were gone, Angus and I began the grim work of erasing traces of the horror.
We found containers of acid in the warehouse, which I was happy about, but also disturbed about.
Adding the bodies in, I watched as they slowly dissolved, breaking down muscle and bone.
Blood scrubbed, concrete sanitized. My heart pounded, and my body ached.
Memories of the Omegas and their terrified eyes lingered like a weight in my chest. I swallowed hard, steadying myself, letting warmth and pride mix with residual tension.
Angus assisted with the kind of grim efficiency that suggested this wasn't his first experience with evidence disposal, though he lacked my technical knowledge of the chemical processes involved.
His role was more practical, with moving bodies, scrubbing blood patterns from concrete surfaces, and ensuring that every trace of violence was eliminated before we departed.
The work took a good three hours of meticulous attention to detail, but when we finished, the warehouse room looked exactly as it had before we'd entered.
No bodies, no blood, no physical evidence that could connect us to the deaths that had occurred here.
The cages remained, and the two dead girls, but they would be found soon; an anonymous tip would lead the authorities right to their door.
I stood in the center of the empty room, surveying our work with the professional satisfaction that came from a job completed to exacting standards.
The acid we'd used would continue its work long after we'd departed, ensuring that any trace evidence would be eliminated. By tomorrow morning, even advanced forensic analysis would find nothing more than industrial residues that could have accumulated through legitimate warehouse operations.
Outside, dawn painted the sky with colors that promised a new day for six young women who'd expected to die in darkness. They were safe now, protected by people who understood that some problems required permanent solutions and possessed both the skill and determination to deliver them.
Our family was whole again, and the men who'd threatened them would never threaten anyone else.