34. Syn
34
SYN
It’s dawn when I see them coming. No sirens, but flashing lights, illuminating the sky as the police cars crawl up the sweeping driveway. Ice floods my veins, and panic hits me hard. Did the alphas go to the police about Amélie? Shaking my head, I knew I couldn’t trust them. Jeremy will know. Somehow, he will find out about this, and I will never see her again. Stumbling back from the window, I hear a loud knocking and then a scuffle. Voices call out, and I spin to the bedroom door as it bursts open.
“Synthia Fuller? You are under arrest for the purchase of illegal heat inducers.” A male police officer barges up to me and, without another word, spins me around, pulling my arms to cuff me.
“Wait? What is going on?” I ask as I hear roars of fury from downstairs.
He doesn’t answer me, he just drags me in my pyjamas towards the bedroom door and down the hallway.
I’m in total shock.
As I am hauled down the stairs, almost tripping, this officer is hurrying me along so fast, I see the cause of the roaring. The three alphas have been detained by several armed officers. They are trying to get to me, but they can’t.
“Tarquin!” I call out, but my voice is barely a whisper.
“I will see you sacked for this!” he bellows. “I will defund your entire department! None of you will ever work again after I’m done with you!”
Eyes wide, my breathing ragged, I look at Declan. He shakes his head, standing cool while Tarquin yells and Tristan fights like the devil. He is cuffed, and I croak.
“Don’t say anything,” Declan says.
I barely hear him over the disaster unfolding in the entrance hall.
“Do you hear me, Synthia? Don’t say a word. We’re coming. Shortly.” He glares at the officer who has him held at gunpoint.
How can this be right? None of this makes any sense.
“Synthia?” Declan snaps.
I look back at him and nod. It’s all I can do as I’m whisked away into the cool dawn. Barely dressed and shoved into a police car. I watch as Tristan is shoved into another one, growling and spitting like a fiend.
I have shut down.
I don’t understand what’s happening. How did they know about the heat inducers?
The officers don’t speak as we pull away from the estate. I stare at the mansion receding in the rear window, my heart hammering against my ribs. My wrists ache from the handcuffs, metal biting into my skin.
“Where are you taking me?” I finally ask.
The officer glances at me in the rearview mirror, his expression unreadable. “IPP Taskforce Headquarters”
I fall silent, my mind racing. Heat inducers. They’re arresting me for the heat inducers. Someone reported me—but who? The only people who knew were Savvie and the guy who sold them to me. Oh, and the alphas. But by the looks of it, they weren’t involved in this.
Jeremy. It has to be. Somehow, he found out.
I’m hyperaware of my state—barefoot in short cotton pyjamas, no bra, no knickers, hair a mess. I must look exactly like what they think I am. A whore looking to score big.
The officer’s eyes keep flicking to me in the rearview mirror, a mix of judgement and something that looks a lot like lust burning in those dark depths. Hypocrite . Any shred of respect I might’ve had for him vanishes and I glower at him in disgust. I force myself to breathe steadily, to not show the panic thrumming through my veins.
“I have rights,” I say, trying to keep my voice from shaking. “I want a lawyer.”
“You’ll get one at the HQ.” His tone is dismissive.
IPP Headquarters. Suddenly, I’m processing this as information that doesn’t fit the equation. Why would the Inter-pack Parliament officers want me at their Headquarters? This is a low-level crime. Admittedly a bad one that will see me in jail for several years, but still. I’m not a seller or worse, a murderer, or something equally as vile.
As London’s streets blur past the window, I force myself to calm down and think. There is something more to this. I’m being stitched up, and I have to remain calm so I can get myself out of this, somehow.
The car pulls into an underground parking structure, and I’m marched through sterile hallways to a processing area in my bare feet. Fingerprints. Mugshot. The indignity of it all barely registers through my numbness.
“Interrogation room three,” the desk sergeant says, and I’m led down another corridor.
The interrogation room is cold—deliberately so, I’m sure. They want me uncomfortable, disoriented, vulnerable. I sit at the metal table, my bare feet curled against the icy floor, trying not to shiver. The handcuffs have been removed, but the red marks around my wrists remain, a bracelet of shame.
The door opens, and a man enters. He is tall and broad-shouldered, with close-cropped hair and eyes that miss nothing. He carries a file folder that he carefully places on the table between us.
“Ms Fuller,” he says, his voice surprisingly gentle. “I’m Commander Elijah St. Clare.” He sits across from me, studying my face. “You look cold.”
Before I can respond, he shrugs off his jacket and offers it to me. I hesitate, then take it, wrapping it around my shoulders.
“Thank you,” I croak.
He nods once. “Do you know why you’re here, Ms Fuller?”
“Something to do with heat inducers,” I say flatly, not about to incriminate myself. They didn’t find them on me, so what the fuck is all of this? Again, none of this is adding up.
“We are aware that you may have purchased a dose of illegal inducers a few days ago,” he says.
The roar and growling that interrupts him makes him grimace.
Tristan.
“Friends of yours?” he inquires with a raised eyebrow.
“Something like that,” I say vaguely.
He sighs and rubs his hand over his face. “Look, Ms Fuller. The fact of the matter is, I want the alpha who sold them to you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say.
He smirks. “Let me backtrack. You will get immunity for buying them with the intention of using them, if you tell me how you got them.”
I frown. “Immunity?”
Before either one of us can say another word, the door bursts open, and Tarquin stands there looking like an avenging angel with a vicious scowl that makes my heart skip a beat. “Do not say a single word,” he growls at me before pointing at the Commander, “And you can kiss that deal goodbye. This is unacceptable. You are traumatising, humiliating and accusing my omega with no good cause.”
My omega. What deal?
“Your omega?” he asks with raised eyebrows, otherwise not batting an eye. “She is an escort.”
“Was,” Tarquin growls.
Was?
My mind is spinning, and I feel lightheaded.
“Your omega,” the Commander says again, softer this time, and he looks at me. “The one you spoke to me about yesterday.”
“Obviously,” Tarquin says witheringly. “Do you think I harbour escorts in my home while I’m preparing to mate?”
Mate?
My heart is beating so fast, adding to the woozy effect of this entire situation. I gasp, and Tarquin immediately comes to me, crouching down.
“Are you okay?” he asks gently.
“No,” I whisper back. “I don’t know what’s going on.”
“As I was trying to tell you, Ms Fuller, you aren’t in any trouble?—”
“Could’ve fooled me!” I snap at him as relief, warring with distrust, floods my veins, now making me want to vomit. “You arrested me, dragged me out to a police car half dressed, and processed me like a common criminal!”
“Well, you are,” he points out. “Just one who will get away with her crime if you help me.”
“Wait,” Tarquin says, straightening up. “What are you talking about?”
“You rudely interrupted me before I could get to the point,” the Commander grits out. “Ms Fuller has immunity if she gives up the dealer.”
Tarquin narrows his eyes at me. “Have you said anything?”
I shake my head.
He looks back at the Commander. “I want that in writing before this goes any further.”
The Commander pushes the folder across the table towards me, ignoring Tarquin now. “Have your lawyer look it over.”
“I am her lawyer,” Tarquin states.
“Oh?” the Commander asks.
“I passed the bar fifteen years ago. I take enough work to legally still be able to call myself one.”
“Why does that not surprise me?” the Commander mutters with a sigh. “Well, have at it. You have thirty minutes.” He stands up, and Tarquin whips the jacket off my shoulders and shoves it at him. I shiver as the warmth is taken away, but Tarquin is quick to replace it with his fancy black cashmere jacket.
Commander St. Clare leaves without another word, the door closing with a soft click behind him. The moment we’re alone, Tarquin crouches before me again, his cold blue eyes now burning with concern as they scan my face.
“Are you hurt?” His voice is low and controlled, but I can hear the rage simmering beneath.
“No,” I whisper, pulling his jacket tighter around me. It smells like him, and I breathe in deeply, letting the apple spice wash over me and soothe my soul. “Just confused. And cold.”
His jaw tightens as he takes in my bare feet. “Bastards.”
“What’s happening, Tarquin? If they want my help, why did they arrest me?”
“To make it look legit, I would hazard a guess.”
“Make what look legit?”
He flips the file open and sits down across from me. “They want to make you a confidential informant. In order to do that, they needed to arrest you to get you on their books.”
“What?” I ask, my anger flaring. “They have treated me like shit just so they can force me to work for them!”
“Seems that way. According to this, you are a worthy asset.”
“How?” I hiss, lowering my voice. “I bought the inducers once. One time. I’ve never broken the law before then, and I wasn’t planning to do it again.”
“No, but you did break the law. They know you did, somehow, and now you will be paying for that by doing whatever they tell you.”
“What? For how long?”
He looks up grimly. “For as long as they want you to.”
“Jesus,” I sob as the emotions and stress get to me. “Fuck.”
“It’s better than the alternative.”
I blink back the tears as we stare at each other. He’s right, of course. He was also right a few days ago when he said I wouldn’t last a day behind bars. Slumping my shoulders, I sigh and brush the tears away. “What do I have to do?”
Tarquin’s expression darkens as he flips through the document. “They want you to identify the dealer and potentially set up a meeting. The IPP Taskforce will intercept.”
“And then what?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
His eyes meet mine, searching. “They want the entire operation. This will be long and ongoing. These are professionals, Synthia. At the first whiff of law enforcement, they will bolt. Who sold you the inducers?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know his name. He works at a café in town.”
“How did you find out about him?”
I hesitate. I’m not throwing Savvie under the bus. “A f-friend.”
He glares at me, but I see the respect under the frustration. “That friend you are protecting might be the one who has dragged you into this.”
“No, they wouldn’t do that,” I say, careful not to give him any clues about who it might be.
We sit in silence.
“I don’t have much choice, do I?” I whisper. “Either I help them, or I go to prison. And if I go to prison?—”
“You won’t be able to get to Amélie.”
I close my eyes, wishing this entire situation would vanish, but when I open them again, reality slaps me hard. “I guess I will have to do what they say.”
“We’ll protect you,” he murmurs. “I promise.”
“Is Tristan okay?”
“He will be fine. I’ll go to him as soon as you are set up.”
“I’m sorry.”
“What for?”
“Bringing such drama into your life. First Amélie and now this.”
He smiles softly and reaches over to take my hand. “It’s been the most fun I’ve had in years.”
“Fun?” I scoff. “Well, I’m happy to be such a source of entertainment for you.”
He chuckles. “Your spirit will see you through this, Synthia. But you don’t have to do it alone. You have us now.”
“What about Jeremy?” I ask quietly. “Do you know where he is yet?”
“We are closing in. He has been smart, but he is still in the country.”
I nod, not allowing myself to believe it yet.
He smiles and then goes back to the folder. “You can sign this. I’m happy with it. It’s standard; nothing hidden, too dangerous, or vague.”
“How did they even find out about this?”
He sighs. “I don’t know, but I will find out.”
Staring into his deep blue eyes, I actually believe him this time.