Pack of Lies, page 37
“Thanks for having me on today, Dash,” I said. I sounded far from confident but launched into an explanation all the same. Short and sweet. That was key. “Arkology is the study of auras. We look at pack bonds and individual auras, how they change over time. Ways to improve quality of life for alphas and omegas. It’s a vast field.”
“Today we’re talking about one very narrow part of that field, though,” Dash clarified. “Gold pack omegas.”
“Yes. Gold pack omegas and aura experimentation.”
Dash had told me to drop ‘experimentation’ early. It was a buzzword, he’d said. Enough to keep people listening to what they thought was a boring science segment.
“Experimentation sounds a little dark.”
“It is,” I agreed. “But it happens, and I hate to say that some of it is my fault.”
Saying that made me a villain to the masses, but they would change their minds. Dash had assured me. He knew how to work people, to skew public perception to increase watch time.
“Care to explain?”
“Around eight years ago, I created a formula for an injection that I believed would change gold pack omegas back to normal omegas. At the time I was living in the Gritch district and had no money, so I couldn’t test it. Instead, I sold it to an organization I believed was legitimate and would have the resources to safely test and refine the formula. That organization is the Centre for Omega Enhancement.”
“Oh, we’re dropping names tonight.” Dash pretended to be surprised, leaning back in his armchair. “You clearly don’t believe they’re legit anymore. Tell us why.”
“They didn’t send me proper updates over the years, so I started looking into it. Long story short, I discovered they were buying trafficked omegas who had recently revealed, withholding the injection from them until they went gold pack, and then giving them an injection of my formula. All against their will, obviously.”
“Why didn’t you go to the GPRE with this information immediately? This feels like their wheelhouse.”
I shrugged, trying my best to look defeated. It wasn’t difficult. I felt that way.
“In my understanding, they knew about it and were allowing it to continue.”
Dash paused for dramatic effect, letting the fake shock play out across his features. If he hadn’t started this damn talk show, he could have been an actor.
“That’s a bold claim.”
“I hope I’m wrong, and it was only one level of corruption. Only one person who knew and did nothing. In any case, I wasn’t comfortable approaching them. My pack and I raided the facility where the Centre was operating and stole paperwork for proof, coming back to New Oxford to find someone who would have the power to put the information in front of the right people.”
I cleared my throat.
“We also had our scent match mate in tow when we came back.”
Dash let out an audible gasp, like he didn’t already know. “Was your scent match a nurse at this Centre?”
“No. She’s… one of the experiments.”
Another pause to let it sink in. Dramatic pauses would be far less awkward if we had a live studio audience to settle down, but I wasn’t sure I would have been able to get up here with a live audience.
“That sounds like a horrible situation to be in.”
“It was,” I agreed, “but we were growing on her. She understood that I was young and naive when I created the formula, and I was trying to make it right.”
“Until something happened?”
“Until the Centre used their GPRE connections to have a missing person bulletin put up for her. The Centre for Omega Enhancement wanted their missing test subject back.”
The cameraman cued up Thorn’s missing person report to show on the screen behind us.
“You mean this bulletin, right? The one we’ve been seeing on TVs around New Oxford constantly since it dropped?” Dash gestured to her picture.
I nodded.
“They described her as a danger to herself or others. Would you say that’s accurate?”
“Not at all. She’s gentle and selfless, caring for other people over herself.” My protectiveness over Thorn eliminated some of my jitters. That was the strongest my voice had been since the beginning of the interview. “She experiences horrible migraines and muscle spasms that can hospitalize her, but she’s not a danger. All she wants is to live a life free instead of being locked up.”
“May I ask why she’s not here today, then? It would surely be more impactful if she spoke to the world about her time captive.”
It was a good thing Dash knew how to lead the conversation, or I would have been able to ramble for ages about how Thorn deserved freedom.
I inhaled, then exhaled. Loud enough the mic attached to my shirt collar caught it, and the cameraman cursed softly at the interference.
“The Centre kidnapped our bonded omega, Marlowe Winston, and asked for Hannah in exchange.” It was odd calling her by her legal name, but that was how the public knew her. “We didn’t want to be so public with this information because it would cause panic, but we were left with no choice. While we were getting ready to start the show, Hannah slipped out through the back room to do the trade even though we told her it was a trap.”
The screen behind us changed, showing the live feed from the cameras attached to Thorn.
We’d seen the situation already. A decrepit room full of omegas with gold eyes, a few young omegas with other colours. Marlowe stood in the line of sight, too. All the omegas were barring the door with the meager furniture in the room and their own bodies.
Shouts came from the other side, men trying to break through into the room where they’d trapped their captives.
My eyes welled with tears, and I hoped the eyes of thousands more people welled too, because it was horrible. An omega rights violation, and one both my mates were right in the middle of. I wiped my eyes, my trembling fingers bumping and smudging my glasses.
“We hope the GPRE will step up and save these omegas before its too late,” I managed to choke out.
The plea was punctuated by a gunshot from the camera’s tinny microphone, sounding too loud as it played across the studio. Some of the omegas jumped or cowered, while others held strong.
“If they don’t…” Dash trailed off, a single fake tear trailing down his cheek. “Whatever happens here will be their fault, and the whole world will be watching their failure.”
The studio door slammed against the wall.
A line of men in black streamed in, guns raised but not shooting. Another shot echoed from the video that was playing, and I worried for a second we would get shot; that they would think it was us.
“It looks like the GPRE has arrived to shut our broadcast down,” Dash said, facing the camera and ignoring our company. “Typical of a government agency. They don’t want their failures broadcast, free speech or not.”
“Turn off the camera,” one man barked, a mask obscuring his features.
“I have every right to run my web show any way I please,” Dash shot back.
His cameraman hadn’t moved, anyway. I had to wonder if this had happened before. Dash did tend to have controversial broadcasts sometimes. If the GPRE were here, though, this had to have been viewed widely enough to make a difference. It had to have been.
The agent who’d demanded the camera be turned off reached out and shoved the stand our main camera was on. It toppled, breaking apart. That wasn’t the only camera running, so he moved over to the next, pushing it.
Another crash.
Then, total loss of power, bathing us in darkness.
“Those things cost thousands of dollars, and I bet it’ll be coming directly out of your paycheque.” Dash scoffed, standing from the armchair to put his hands behind his head. His body was a blob in the dark, only illuminated by the red glow of emergency exit lights, but his movements were obvious enough.
I followed suit, because apparently I was getting arrested.
It would all be worth it if the broadcast had done its job and saved my mates’ lives.
Closing my eyes, I felt the chill of handcuffs around my wrists as I mentally pleaded with whatever higher power existed.
There weren’t even any probability numbers I could run because it was all up to fate.
FIFTY
QUENTIN
The light on the GPS blinked, a beacon of hope.
We were at a field office of the GPRE, the one closest to where Thorn and Marlowe were being held. It had taken every thread of patience in my body to be the voice of reason for the past hours, stopping Denzel and Reese from barging into the office early.
But it was time now. Jubilee was on Dash’s show, and they had viewers. A million of them, with countless in New Oxford. They were in the early minutes of the broadcast, but we could jump the gun.
I led the way, though.
It was better if the guys didn’t punch anyone in the face.
“I’d start getting suited up,” I called out as we shoved through the front door.
A sea of faces greeted us, pausing in their paperwork and chatting to stare at the crazy beta who’d walked through the front door like he was in charge. Aka, me.
“Why’s that?” An older man asked the question from the back of the room, where he’d been bent over peering at someone else’s notes.
“Because you’re about to save the reputation of the GPRE, right after it gets crushed on an international web show. Turn on the TV.”
The old guy nodded. He was in charge, then. The secretary at the front desk hit the button.
Lo and behold, Dash’s broadcast was up on a major New Oxford news outlet. The headline below it read ‘Popular internet talk show makes bold accusations against the GPRE, but is there proof?’
The men began to mutter, some of them vanishing through a door in the back of the room. At least a couple thought they should suit up, just in case. The rest watched, a frown settling over the old man’s face.
I got the sense he was about to tell us to fuck off when the footage from Thorn’s cameras was thrown up on screen.
It was obvious that some of the omegas didn’t have gold eyes, even with the grainy video.
That made the Centre’s actions an omega rights violation. A fucking bad one, in fact. Trafficking and experimentation on gold pack omegas was a more difficult line to see. Some things were too horrible even for the GPRE to ignore. Most weren’t.
But anything done to a normal omega was a crime.
They were legally obligated to protect normal omegas, and it was in their mission statement to ensure access to the injection that prevented omegas from turning gold pack. Preventing young omegas from getting that injection was like going to war against the GPRE.
Especially when millions of people were witnessing it.
With a muttered curse, the old man waved his hand. “Suit up!”
He then glared in our direction, gesturing us over. I led the way, paying close attention to the bond with my packmates. It was still weak, but I felt them. Reese had a grasp on his control, so did Denzel. It was my job to make sure that didn’t change.
“Where the fuck are we headed for this reputation-saving mission?” he demanded.
His name tag read Otto Haring, section chief.
“A warehouse about fifteen minutes away. It’s where they’re holding the omegas.”
“Address.” It was a demand, not a request.
“We’ll be tagging along. We can lead the way.”
“Absolutely not. You’re civilians.”
Denzel was boiling over already. I held out an arm to stop my brother from getting up in this guy’s face but didn’t do anything about the words coming out of his mouth.
“We’re civilians who have already raided a facility set up by these same assholes. A facility your organization failed to shut down, not because you couldn’t, but because you’re corrupt. You’ll follow behind us so we can save our mates from a situation that is indirectly your fault, and I bet you’ll get fucking accolades for it, too.”
Denzel ended his rant on a hiss. His aura split the air with its intensity, our conversation drawing the attention of the few agents who weren’t suiting up to go in the field.
Otto looked us up and down. “I don’t have fucking time to deal with this. You die, we’re passing you off as one of the people we were there to kill. And I hope you have your own weapons because you’re not getting any from us.”
“We’re fine on our own,” I confirmed.
“We leave in three minutes.”
He stormed off to the changing room to suit up himself, and I took a deep breath.
Keeping myself together was getting more difficult by the second, but I had to do it. For Thorn. For Marlowe. And so these other two assholes didn’t blow up their auras or get us put in jail before we had them back in our arms.
FIFTY-ONE
REESE
My aura had never been this hard to contain.
I wasn’t like some rogues. I’d never had an incident of mass destruction, where my aura exploded and I killed people indiscriminately and didn’t remember a second of it. When I’d caught the trafficker touching Thorn, I’d come close, but hadn’t tipped over the edge.
The only reason I knew I was a rogue was because I knew my father was gold pack. I was far luckier than some, and it was easier for me to hide it.
But with this? Marlowe and Thorn both gone, their soothing presences nowhere near me?
Rage boiled my blood and I fought to avoid an aura explosion. I’d never be the same if I let it happen. My already strong and unstable aura would never be as stable as it was right now.
We’d made it to the front of the warehouse with the GPRE strike team in record time, and I just had to hope it was soon enough. I clutched the bond, tried to feel Marlowe, but it was so damn weak. The strain of the lies had nearly shattered it, and it wasn’t going to be quick to repair. One instance of listening to Denzel’s orders wouldn’t fix it.
There was no way for me to feel Thorn, because we’d all been too stupid to bond her.
I should have asked when we made love.
Would she have agreed?
Not that I was able to offer her a bond, but I could have taken pack lead from Denzel and then done it.
“A team, around the back,” Otto barked. “B take the east, C the west. D team is with me, going for the full-frontal assault. No one leaves this building.”
The teams split off. We stayed with the D team, watching the footage. The omegas were doing their best to bar the door, but none of them were strong and it had been half an hour since the guards had started trying to break in. It was only a matter of time before they could crack the door enough to throw a smoke bomb or flash bang to take the defenses out.
It took a minute for the other teams to jog around the building, and then we went.
Denzel, Quentin, and I stayed at the back, in our own formation. The GPRE wouldn’t watch out for us; they’d made it clear, and we hadn’t expected them to. We were going in to get our omegas and kill anyone who stood in our way.
There wasn’t an option for failure.
GPRE agents whispered orders and updates into their comms, but I stayed focused on that front warehouse door.
They shoved it open, tossed a flash bang down the hall, and streamed into the chaos it left behind.
Gunshots rang out.
I’d been in situations like this before. I could ignore weapons firing.
People shouted.
Denzel led the way, and in this we trusted him to do a good job. He lived for this. If he hadn’t been from his area of town, if he hadn’t had a history of violence from his youth, he would have made a stellar GPRE agent.
We kept our focus ahead, letting the agents do their job and take out the guards. We’d determined what area of the warehouse Thorn was in via her tracking chip, and that was where we were going.
It didn’t matter who we had to plow through to do it.
When the GPRE stayed on the ground floor but gunshots came from the second, Denzel veered to a metal stairway. More shouts sounded, some of them at us, but I’d caught onto the same scent Denzel had.
Blackberry and orange, tangled with cotton candy.
Their scents would never lead us astray, and they were coming from upstairs.
We were exposed on the stairs — that was why the GPRE was handling the first floor before moving up. A bullet hit the wall beside us, and I turned to face whoever was shooting. I took him out with one shot, but not before he fired off another. It grazed my shoulder, making me hiss.
Blood slid down my arm, but it was nothing more than a flesh wound.
Quentin shot another man before he could attack us, and then we were on the upper level. We were exposed as we sprinted down the hallway in the direction of our mates, only slightly concealed by the low barrier blocking us off from the centre of the warehouse and the railing above it.
Every second brought us closer to them, my heart lifting as their scents increased in intensity.
The second we got home I would take Denzel’s offer of pack lead, and I would offer Thorn a bond. Bite her. Bond her. Keep her safe from all the fucked up shit that could happen to gold pack omegas, shit I knew about all too fucking well.
I might even tell Marlowe how I felt. He deserved to know. Everything that had happened since Thorn joined us showed me our omega had more agency than I’d given him credit for, and he wouldn’t feel obligated to be with me if he didn’t want me.
First, we had to get them out and we were rapidly approaching a hallway where more guards than we could reasonably handle crowded around a closed metal door.
FIFTY-TWO
MARLOWE
Thorn shouldn’t have come for me, but she had.
She’d come with a plan that was working, if the sudden increase of gunfire was anything to go by.
