Pack of Lies, page 35
“Why do you let them take everything from you?” Belinda demanded.
I watched the tick in Three’s jaw, his scent spiking with his annoyance. “Because they own everything that we are. I’ve been trying to ease the transition for you, but maybe it has to sink in on its own. The day you look in the mirror and see gold eyes staring back at you is the day you’ll realize I’ve been right all along.” Three bit out his response.
Belinda flinched, fear slicing through her. Jessica’s nails visibly dug into the other girl’s hand, both of them terrified. Stepping between them, I offered the younger girls a wobbly smile. My anxiety had been lessened by having someone to comfort, and I couldn’t let them despair despite what Three said about false hope.
“Thorn is going to try her best,” I said. “But, um, I think we’ll have to wait a while. Let’s go sit down.”
They followed me to one of only two twin beds in the small room, and we all crowded onto it. A few of the other omegas came too, mostly the younger ones. The older ones had a different look to them, a wistful resignation in their slumped posture and pain in a lot of their movements.
If we did get saved, they could heal.
For now, I’d focus my attention on the ones who wanted to talk about the outside world and what it was like to be free.
FORTY-SIX
THORN
The van pulled to a stop downtown, in front of a glass skyscraper with clouds circling the peak high above us. People milled on the sidewalks and wandered in and out of the doors freely. It was some kind of commercial building.
Willa handed me a hooded sweatshirt and a hat to hide my face. I cringed pulling them on because they didn’t smell like my alphas, but I couldn’t go outside otherwise.
And apparently, we had to go in here because it was where Dash Loranger hosted his internet show.
Dash Loranger, pack lead of an esteemed rich pack with boatloads of family money.
Who was Marlowe’s scent match, and who had been rejected.
There were so many things I was learning about Marlowe. First, his desire to get a cock piercing and now a secret scent match from before he’d met the pack.
Denzel had been quick to reassure me this wasn’t exactly a secret, just hard to explain with a lot of complicated reasoning behind it. Marlowe hadn’t been hiding it. He would have told me, but it involved a long detailing of how his family treated him. The pack said he tended to get depressed when he went down that mental rabbit hole.
That was fair, and I didn’t care about another hidden detail of their lives anymore. Reese had yet to tell me about his father, other than a passing mention of him being a gold pack omega. One of his parents had to be, considering only gold pack omegas could create rogue alphas.
“What’s going to happen when we go up there?” I asked.
My pack was shoving their weapons under baggy coats. Hopefully there were no metal detectors to get into this building, because we wouldn’t pass that inspection.
“Dash is going to be very pissed off to see us,” Denzel said. “Then, he’s going to have a mental breakdown when he finds out Marlowe has been kidnapped, and finally someone is going to talk some sense into him so we can go live. Hopefully Mercury or Ambrose are present for the talking sense part, but we might not be that lucky.”
Mercury and Ambrose. The other two alphas Marlowe could have been mated to if things were different.
I already didn’t like them, which was unfair to them. They’d kind of been put in a shitty situation, but it didn’t change the fact that my omega side was extremely possessive over Marlowe.
If he’d decided to become their bondmate, he would have never belonged to me.
My head was pounding, a migraine threatening to creep in at the worst possible time. This area wasn’t quiet, either. Sirens screeched down the street beside where we were parked in a loading zone. Every one made me stiffen, wondering if they were coming for me.
Denzel hopped out the back of the van first, holding out his hands. I took them hesitantly, not used to him being a gentleman. He kept me bundled to his side as we hurried across the cracked concrete and through a revolving door.
No security down here.
It was a straight shot to the elevator bank.
We all shoved ourselves into one, but I immediately wished we’d taken the stairs.
This elevator was all metal. A shining metal box, the walls just like the ones in the room where I’d been strapped to a table.
Operated on.
Injected with foreign substances.
My eyes squeezed shut so tight it hurt, breath coming in quick pants.
It was only the pack in here, Willa and the other guys staying out in the van so they could help us make a quick exit if necessary. Their scents helped to calm me but couldn’t eliminate my panic completely.
“Thorn?” Jubilee asked.
His trembling hand touched mine. Our fingers slid against each other, clasping together. Vodka and licorice tickled my nose as he pressed closer. The two of us, the weakest of the pack, were contained in the middle of the other three.
“They kept me in a metal room like this. I’m fine,” I said, my voice wispy.
He sucked in a breath. “I’m sor—”
I shook my head, eyes still closed, and leaned forward to rest myself against him. “Not your fault. Just tell me when we’re out of it.”
Within a minute the doors dinged open again. I was hustled out, tripping over my own feet with the guys catching my fumbles. Soft carpet was beneath the soles of my shoes, no longer the tile of the elevator.
Jubilee didn’t get a chance to tell me we were out, though.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
There was venom in the tone, the swear word coming out on a sharp breath. Snapping my eyes open, I spotted a man in a doorway leading to a small studio space. Frosted glass barred most of my view, but there was an armchair visible, a backdrop behind it and a professional camera watching the empty chair.
The man himself had to be Dash Loranger. He was too handsome and furious not to be. His cheekbones could cut glass, his hair coated in so much gel I wondered if it would crunch when touched. Designer jeans cupped his thighs and his button-up shirt had a pattern of a well-known and expensive designer’s logo. The watch adorning his wrist glittered and flashed.
His expression was screwed up in hatred, though, vitriol aimed at us with laser-focus.
“Emergency,” Denzel barked.
Our pack lead was unphased by Dash’s less-than-warm welcome. He stepped forward in front of Jubilee and I, blocking us from view as he crossed his arms over his chest. There was no one else visible in this space. A desk sat in front of the frosted windows, but no secretary occupied it.
What time was it? It might be a lunch break.
“There is no emergency so great that I would be willing to talk to you or the rest of your fucking pack.”
“Really? Because Marlowe was kidnapped this morning.”
Dash went silent. This would be the breakdown Denzel had told us about. I tried to peer around his large frame, trying to gauge how likely the other alpha was to help us.
“You’re lying.” He spoke with confidence, but a slight waver in his voice.
“Have I ever been known to lie?”
I almost laughed. Because, yeah, he fucking was known to lie. Apparently, he’d never lied to Dash. The other alpha cleared his throat.
“Why the fuck would Marlowe be kidnapped?”
“Long story, but we need to be on your show. Preferably now.”
“I can’t just put you on my show. People have expectations of what they see here, and they don’t tune in to hear from some pack of nobodies about how their omega was kidnapped.”
“We’re not going to be talking about Marlowe,” Quentin said.
His hand trailed over my back and Jubilee’s before he stepped in front of Denzel. He had a bit of a softer touch than his brother, which could make him more convincing when the brute force approach wasn’t working.
“It’s going to be an exposé,” he continued, “on an organization that forces omegas to go gold pack and then gives them debilitating drugs that permanently harm or kill them. They’re the ones that have Marlowe, and we bet the GPRE knows all about their experiments and has done nothing to stop them.”
“Why would they kidnap Marlowe? He’s not gold pack. He got the injection,” Dash said confusedly.
I poked my head around Denzel. My gold eyes met Dash’s green ones, which widened. “I’m the experiment,” I said. “They took Marlowe to make ransom demands so they could get me back.”
He snapped his gaze back to the pack lead, gritting his teeth. “Well, give her to them. Is some exposé going to get him back? Really? They might kill him the second they see it. The GPRE might not get there in time.”
A collective growl went up from the pack, auras flaring. Reese’s had the biggest flare. He wasn’t the most stable, not with everything going on. Not when he was a rogue.
Realization settled slowly over Dash. It was visible how it crushed him. His expression went hollow, shoulders slumping. “She’s your scent match,” he muttered, not for our ears.
I moved toward him, shaking off hands that tried to stop me. What was he going to do? He was a broken, angry man but he wasn’t dangerous. Mainly, he looked sad. My mind was whirring, head pounding as I realized he was right and this wasn’t guaranteed to be enough. It was the best option the pack had, but not the best I had.
But I needed Dash for that.
Placing a hand on his shoulder, I ignored his half-hearted growl. He was taller than me, but not as massive as Reese. His body was boy-band popstar skinny, with just the kind of muscles that would shine when oiled and pop on camera.
“We need to get Marlowe back, and for that we need to go on your show. I’ve been told it’s popular. Millions of people watch it. When they realize what we’re saying, it’s going to go viral and that’s what we want.”
“They’re not going to—”
Dash stopped his refusal when I gave a tiny shake of my head. It was a movement so small the others would have noticed it as a twitch, but I was staring right into his eyes as I did it. He cocked his head to the side, straightening his shoulders.
“I doubt this is going to work, but if they kill Marlowe to cut the dead weight, you’re the ones who are going to have to live with that,” he muttered. “Not me. You’re his pack.”
The unspoken, broken-hearted ‘not me’ was left hanging in the air.
“It’s going to work,” I said. “How long does it take to get this set up?”
He gestured me into the room and the guys were quick to follow behind. They still didn’t want me alone with Dash.
It was larger than I’d anticipated. They did have the whole floor, with only a few offices outside of the filming studio, so it made sense. There were another three armchairs opposite the one I’d seen, more cameras pointing at them so they could get every angle of each expression. A beta cameraman was sitting behind a desk with a video editing program open in front of him, but Dash gestured him up.
“We’re doing a special episode. Live. In twenty minutes,” he said.
He nodded, looking curiously over at us. I doubted he was used to running this show on his own or on short notice, because he jumped into action. There were cameras to adjust, mics to set up, and I somehow had to get Dash alone.
“I’m going to take you to makeup.”
Dash reached for me, only to stop short at Denzel’s growl. He glared over my shoulder at the hulking alpha, gesturing for me to follow him instead. Reese tried to follow, but Dash refocused his glare. It was truly lasers of hatred coming from his eyes.
“I won’t be able to work fast enough if you’re hovering,” he snapped. “If she makes a noise, you’ll hear her.”
“She doesn’t even need makeup,” Denzel said.
“Oh, so you want her to be seen by millions of people looking like this?” Dash held up his hand toward me like it was obvious how horrible an idea that was. “We want a media darling. She looks raggedy.”
Denzel and Reese growled, but Quentin held them back with a tight smile on his face. “Fine. Get it done. Ten minutes.”
“Don’t fucking interrupt. It’s a careful process.”
He turned on the heel of his loafers and strode away, leaving me to rush after him. We walked down a long hallway, right past a couple of dressing rooms. He pushed me into a soundproof closet instead.
A single lightbulb lit above us, and he crossed his arms over his chest.
“So, what’s your plan, omega?” he asked.
His gaze raked over me disdainfully.
“I’m Thorn, not omega,” I said. “And the plan is to trade myself over. They’re never going to find Marlowe in time unless someone is on their way there with a tracker and a hidden camera. Know where I can find those things?”
He scoffed but reached above me. In these close quarters I finally caught his scent. It really was weaker than the pack’s scent, like my nose had attuned to my scent matches and allowed me to smell as normal again, but only when it was them.
What he shoved into my hands was a tiny clip and a pair of dangling earrings.
I eyed the earrings cautiously. “I don’t have my ears pierced.”
“Better get on it, then.”
“Don’t you have anything else?”
“You think I keep high-end hidden cameras just lying around?”
Raising my eyebrow, I looked between him and the high-end hidden cameras he had literally just pulled out of nowhere.
“Whatever,” he grumbled. “I’ve only got earrings right now. Take it or leave it.”
I sighed.
I’d been poked and prodded and stabbed with needles for far less worthy causes. At least this wouldn’t be against my will.
“The clip will go on an inside hem of your clothing. It’s an extremely accurate tracking device. The earrings will track you too, but they give less of a pinpointed location. Give me a second to set up the streaming.”
“What happens if I go out of range?”
He gave me an offended glance as he fiddled with another device within the confines of the hidden sound booth. “There is no ‘out of range.’ What the fuck do you take me for? The only way they’re shaking these is if they bring you far enough underground or shove you in a signal-blocking box. If you think they’re technically sophisticated enough to do that, let me know.”
Were the sophisticated enough? Yes. The Centre for Omega Enhancement was on the front lines of science and tech… but they had a penchant for underestimating omegas.
Dr. Hellwood wouldn’t have me checked for bugs. Not until it was too late, and the show had gone viral with Jubilee talking about the formula being used unethically by them.
“Do you have a needle?”
Dash pulled a sewing kit out from behind a microphone.
Was there anything he didn’t have in here? Who the fuck was this guy, a web show host or a fucking spy? If this were one of those romance novels Reese loved, the readers would be calling Dash’s existence a convenient plot device.
“Best I got.”
There was a needle in there, and we soaked it in hand sanitizer before Dash pulled down the lobe of my ear. I insisted on holding the needle. Sharp things were enough to induce a panic attack on their own. Forget about strange, unfamiliar men holding them.
Pushing the needle through my ear was a lot harder than it needed to be, but I got one earring inserted. Then the other, droplets of blood staining the skin of my fingers. I was sweating by the time we finished, and the guys would be coming to check on me any minute.
I needed to leave, but I hadn’t thought that far ahead. Was I going to run down the street to escape my pack?
“Mercury and Ambrose should be here in a minute.”
“You never grabbed your phone to text anyone.”
He sniffed in annoyance. “Every inch of this place is covered in cameras, and they have access to the feed from your earrings. Considering I’m a walking disaster who hates your pack with a fiery passion, I assume they both got in the car the second they saw Denzel step into the building. It’s better if they’re around so I don’t burn it all down.”
His expression went dark, his lips turning up into an irritated sneer. This man was mega fucked up. If I hadn’t offered to trade myself for Marlowe, he may have actually thrown me to the wolves himself.
I hadn’t thought it at first. Dash had seemed sad, not unhinged. But it was a little bit of both. He was clearly obsessed with Marlowe. Stalker-level obsessed.
Hopefully, we hadn’t just asked Marlowe’s stalker to help save him. I couldn’t imagine that would go well.
Swallowing dryly, I nodded instead of trying to figure out what to say to that. The pack could manage Dash. I was going to walk back into the waiting arms of people who’d held me hostage for years, so they better manage him and prevent him from burning down the recording studio.
“Go out this door, to the right, and down the stairs. They’ll be on P1 in a slate grey sports car. Mercury and Ambrose are going to make sure your kidnapping goes perfectly, and I’ll hold off this live broadcast until you’re in the right place.”
I attached the clip to the inside hem of my shirt and nodded shakily. Panic was beginning to rise in me. All I wanted to do was run, long and far. That wouldn’t help Marlowe, so I couldn’t do it. This constant headache served as a reminder of what I’d been through, but I could ignore it.
I could.
“Thank you,” I croaked past my dry throat.
“Don’t thank me. I’d much rather have you dead than Marlowe.”
Well, wasn’t that wonderfully optimistic?
At his parting words I opened the door to the sound booth and slipped out, hurrying down the hall and then the stairs, away from the pack I’d come to love and toward the omega I loved just as much.
FORTY-SEVEN
