Pack Deception: Part Two, page 20
“What?” he yells down the line.
“What?” I yell right back. “You sold us a piece of shit, and now we have a lame omega. Fucking useless!” I’m screaming now.
“And what, exactly, do you expect me to do about that?” I’m about to reach down the phone and rip his balls out through his throat if he says one more thing in that bored, uninterested voice.
“What do I–” I laugh without humor. “You have some fucking nerve. One call from me and your ass is behind bars. Do you not understand that?”
A beat of silence and then his nasally ass voice laughs at me. “You dumb fucking whore. You think you’re the first person to threaten me? Us? We’ve been in business since before you were even a tingle in your daddy’s fucking testicles. You’re playing a game you can’t possibly win. But go ahead and try. Call the cops. You’ll find yourself behind those bars before we ever are, kid.” I bristle at that, my alpha hounding me to beat the shit out of him for denigrating us. But he goes on. “And maybe you’ve got a retarded omega now because you are impatient and reckless. You get what you paid for. The drug wasn’t ready. Nobody knew the effects it may have. But you wouldn’t hear it. So now you get to deal with those consequences.”
“You–” I start to say, but he interrupts me.
“Don’t fucking call this number again. Or I promise you, on my life, you’ll regret it.” Then the line goes dead.
The phone goes flying out of my hand and smashes into the wall before I know what I’m doing. Pieces of drywall spray as the phone hits the plaster and falls to the floor in several bits.
Connor, with his so-called alpha hearing, looks at me questioningly. A real alpha would have been able to hear the conversation.
“She’s absolutely fucking useless. We may as well get rid of her.” I don’t want any blood on my own hands, but I’m not opposed to farming it out. I’m sure it wouldn’t be too hard to find someone willing to do it for cheap.
“I don’t know. She’s still hot. Maybe she’s not completely useless,” Connor says, adjusting himself.
I roll my eyes. “Whatever. You have until I get a buyer, then she’s gone.” The sound of his belt unbuckling hits my ears as I leave the room to find my laptop. I’ll need to use it to find someone, now that my phone is in pieces on the bedroom floor.
The house Joe rented is a two-story townhouse in the heart of Chicago. It’s how we were able to get to that restaurant so fast. Centrally located. Close to Summer’s job and walking distance to anything we may need.
It’s a five-bedroom home. The one we threw Summer in was one we weren’t using. Rather, the three of us took the room on the second story.
The laptop is sitting on the nightstand by the bed. It’s fired up, and I’m about to open my email when there’s a commotion from downstairs. Like a knocking sound against the walls.
Fucking Connor. Couldn’t keep it in his pants for one day. I slam the laptop shut to go downstairs and yell at him to keep it down.
My feet are heavy and loud on the stairs as I trudge down them. When I get to the main floor, I look up to see half a dozen automatic weapons pointed right at me. Brody is face down on the cold floor with their hands cuffed behind his back and ankles zip-tied together.
The six men in all black are sporting vests that read “OPS” across them.
“Get on the ground,” one of the men growls, stepping forward and jerking his gun to the floor to impress upon his point.
As I drop to my knees, I glare past the agents to the bedroom where Summer and Connor are. There’s a tall, bulky male with his gun lifted as he peers through his scope and growls, “Let her go and get on the ground.”
Connor’s voice carries through the house, a tremor in it. A coward through to the end. “Back up or I’ll break her neck!”
“Let go of her. It’s too late for you at this point, but at least you’ll get out before you’re old and decrepit. You can still have a life. You kill her, and you’ll never see the outside of a cell.”
“I sw-swear. I’ll do it!” He sounds unsure. Wavering.
“You have three seconds. She’s turning purple. Get your fucking hands off her and get. On. the. Ground,” the alpha barks at him; I feel a small tug in my core. Not enough to affect me–or any alpha with even a small amount of willpower–but enough to feel the pull in his command.
“Get back!”
“One, two, –”
BANG.
The shot rings out, and no more sound comes from in the room. Connor is dead. I know it without even having to see the body.
“Clear,” the alpha says, and I hear the click of the safety on his gun before he swings it around on the strap so it’s behind his back. He disappears into the room for a minute before emerging with Summer cradled in his arms.
Her head is still lolled to the side, eyes open but staring at nothing with no idea the shitshow unfolding around her.
At least they won’t get her either, I think to myself, and that thought brings me some modicum of peace as my own hands are cuffed behind my back, and Brody and I are escorted out the front door.
Night has fallen, so it’s hard to see anything in the dark while being blinded by flashing blue and red lights. But amongst all the chatter from nosy neighbors and OPS agents, comes an all too familiar voice.
“Summer!” I jerk a little in my cuffs. The idea of a beta I rejected seeing me in a compromising position–seeing me so fucking weak–has my hackles rising. But the OPS agent’s grip on me is solid. Unyielding.
The big oaf stops us right behind where Mason is currently fussing over Summer’s limp body. “We need to get her to a doctor,” the big alpha who shot Connor says to the beta, who nods.
“Let’s get her home. We have an on-call doctor. She’ll know what to do.” He sounds so sure, so fucking hopeful, that I laugh.
“Not likely.” My voice sounds smug even to my own ears. She’s fucking gone. Nothing this ‘doctor’ does is going to change that. Mason’s back goes rigid when he hears my voice.
That’s right. You know exactly who I am.
His eyes slide over to mine slowly. So damn slowly before they lock on mine. The hatred burning in them surprises me a little, but I don’t let it show. I’d thought he’d look shocked, maybe a little scared. Not this…superior kind of anger. Like the little weasel thinks he’s better than me. “What did you do to her?” His voice is soft, but not weak. I grin at him and shrug as best I can in the cuffs.
“Nothing that she didn’t deserve.” Maybe she shouldn’t have left me. Disrespected me.
Even in the dark, his body is illuminated by the lights enough that I see his body physically shake with suppressed rage.
Good.
“Take them off,” he whispers.
The agent holding me responds. “What?”
“Her cuffs. Take them off.” I frown at him. What’s he playing at? Surely he doesn’t think I’m going to be let go.
“I don’t think–”
“Now,” he growls, so deep and guttural, I think it shocks the agent into doing as he says. Cool air hits my wrists, and I bring them around to rub the spot where the metal bit against my skin. As I do, I’m too distracted to stop the blow.
Mason cocks his arm back and swings for my face. There’s so much force behind it, my body hits the ground a second before the pain in my cheek registers. The growl that rips from me is automatic as my hand comes up to prod at the split, tender skin near my eye.
He’s fucking dead.
I jump up, ready to lunge at him and tear him to pieces, when two agents grip my arms again, wrestle them behind my back, and go to cuff me once more. Anger fuels me enough that I thrash in their grips, and it takes another agent coming over to put the cuffs on while the other two hold me still. All the while I’m thrashing, spit flying from my mouth as I growl at the audacity of him.
A beta!
Humiliation and pure rage fight for space in me, and Mason just stares at me for a second like I’m no better than the gum on the bottom of his shoe, then turns and follows the alpha carrying Summer all the way to their car.
Through my growling and fighting, I’m aware enough to see the alpha raise his brows at Mason who shrugs and says in a deadpan voice, “I wasn’t going to hit someone with their hands tied behind their back.”
A deep chuckle comes from the agent, and they walk down the sidewalk to the line of police cars.
As the door shuts on them and the agents shove me to the ground once more to hold me still–as my face is pushed against the loose gravel of the sidewalk–the only thought in my head is that I hope that bitch never recovers from that drug. And I hope that tears that piece of fucking shit beta apart little-by-little until he’s nothing more than a husk, an empty shell, of a man.
Twenty-Four
Brooklyn
Okay. She’s okay, I tell myself after Maverick gets off the phone with James, the OPS agent he somehow knew enough to call in a favor with. I’ll never stop being grateful for that.
But the waiting is going to kill me. Doctor Tanner is on her way, likely right behind the agents bringing Summer home.
The gate alarm at the end of the drive goes off, letting us know someone wants through. With a quick glance at the camera on the gate code, I see it’s the OPS agent in the driver’s seat, James, and I punch in the code on my phone to let them in.
Doctor Tanner’s car drives in right behind their SUV.
All four of us run out the front door to stand impatiently in the driveway as the cars pull up. Hudson doesn’t even wait for them to put the car in park before he’s ripping open the backseat door. There’s a pause as he stops to look at what must be Summer, and then the worry starts to creep in. She must look bad.
What did they do to her?
Hudson leans in and, with surprising gentleness, pulls our mate out of the backseat to cradle her in his arms. As his body turns and we get a good look at her, I feel my own body pause and lock up, just as he did. She’s awake.
At least, her eyes are open. But she’s not there.
A dead sort of blankness stares back at me, damning me for not being a better protector. A better alpha.
Mason scoots out of the car after Summer, and my eyes shoot straight to his red and swollen knuckles. When our eyes meet, he shakes his head at me. Not ready to talk.
Fair enough. I turn as Hudson walks by, Summer in his arms, and says he's taking her to the living room.
Nala runs out the front door, right up to Hudson, and starts sniffing Summer. She whines when her mom doesn’t greet her. Like she knows something is wrong. The dog follows them inside, sticking right on his heels.
Doctor Tanner breezes past me next, though, and she shakes her head when he sees where Hudson aims for. “No, take her to her nest. I’ll examine her there.”
Without a word, or a backward glance, Hudson changes direction and heads for the stairs once inside. I watch everyone trail behind Hudson and follow behind them at a slower pace. Part of me is scared for her to examine Summer. To hear any bad news. I’d rather bundle Summer up in my arms and tell the good doctor her services aren’t needed.
Summer is going to be fine.
She has to be.
But I know that’s emotion and not logic talking. So when Tanner barks for all the overbearing mates to get out while she examines her patient, I don’t kick up a fuss. Though, based on the looks the men are shooting at the closed bedroom door, they just might. Especially when Tanner lets Nala in the room with them before closing the door.
What feels like an hour–but is probably only twenty minutes–goes by before Tanner reappears. She walks out, medical bag in hand, and closes the bedroom door behind her.
I don’t think I’m breathing.
“Physically, her body seems fine. Her blood pressure is within a normal range, her pupils are reactive, and despite a little redness and some swelling starting on her cheek, she appears untouched.”
Untouched… as in?
Answering the unspoken question and horror on all of our faces, she nods. “I did a pelvic exam, and there are no signs of assault.”
A shiver ripples through me at the same time a relieved breath shudders out. Mason, Maverick, and Hudson all look equally nauseous but reassured.
“However, she is still unresponsive. I’ll send her blood work out to see exactly what was given to her. But there are no traces of the passion pack drug in the mouth swab I took. So it wasn’t ingested. It was likely an injection this time. I’ve not seen any side effects of it to this extent. It could be that she was given too much. I won’t know until the tests come back. For now, I’ll give her some medication to help counteract any amphetamines in her system. They won’t reverse her condition, but they’ll stop it from spreading or continuing to wreak havoc. A nurse will be here every morning to give her an IV drip for fluids and start a TPN bag to make sure she gets nutrients.”
“If it wasn’t ingested, then Tatem didn’t put anything in her food,” I frown. “How did they get her out of the restaurant then? She looked drugged in the video.” The question isn’t meant for anyone. It’s more for me to piece together the puzzle, to make sense of what happened.
“I’m not sure. Regardless, she’s awake. But despite her pupils responding to stimuli, she is unresponsive. Truthfully, I’m not sure what the full extent is yet, but I’d recommend taking things slow around her until we do. One person with her at a time so she isn’t overwhelmed with your scents. Other than that, try to keep things as normal as you can. Talk to her when you’re with her. I’ll call you as soon as I know more.”
She glances around, waiting to see if we have any questions. But we’re all too stunned to talk. So she walks out.
Without a word, Hudson goes into the nest and shuts the door behind him.
“I guess he’s taking the first shift,” Mason mutters offhandedly, his eyes unfocused and staring off into space.
What the hell happened out there?
When the rest of us walk downstairs, Maverick’s phone rings. He frowns at the screen but picks it up. “James? What’s wrong?”
I’m too far away to hear exactly what’s being said, but as I walk closer, I think I hear James say Tatem’s name on the other end.
“Okay. Yeah. Wait, please. Thanks for calling.” Then he hangs up and looks at me. “They arrested Tatem. After what Amanda said about Tatem possibly being involved, some agents went to RJs to question the kitchen staff again. They asked about Tatem specifically this time. One of the workers said she went to the bathroom for a second before coming back and throwing a needle into the trash bin in the kitchen. They found the needle, and they’re dusting it for her fingerprints. She’ll likely be charged when they come back, but they’re about to interrogate her. James said he had them wait to see if you wanted to be there for it.”
“Me? Why?” I ask, shocked.
“You’re pack alpha. She’s your ex. You could be useful if they need to use you to get a confession from her.”
My body locks up in surprise. Determination courses through me.
Oh, she’ll confess. If I have to flirt or beat it out of her. She’ll sign that confession before the night is up.
Turns out I didn’t need to do either. By the time I got to the station, they had already confronted her with the dirty syringe. The damning piece of evidence, and she folded like a lawn chair when they offered her a plea deal. Five years with a chance at parole in half that time if she testifies against Pack Monroe on the stand.
I saw the defiance in her eyes, the indignation, until they said if she didn’t, they’d charge her with kidnapping, assault and battery, bodily harm using a chemical agent, and anything else they could think of. That she’d be lucky to get out in twenty years when they were done with her.
I almost begged them to let her rot for the whole twenty, but I know she’s not the white whale. Pack Monroe, with all their connections and money, are going to be harder to put behind bars. They need all the evidence and testimony against them that they can gather.
So, on the other side of the one-way glass at one of the interrogation rooms, I watch my ex confess to her involvement in hurting my mate. My blood boils with each word she utters.
“They came into my restaurant one day and told me who they were. The woman–Jade–said that their omega ran away from them. Was shacked up with another pack, and they just wanted her back. They showed me the mate marks they all had. Said that Summer was their mate. They knew I was Brooklyn’s girlfriend–”
“Ex,” I mutter under my breath. My arms are crossed as I stand there glaring at Tatem who can’t see me.
“– and they thought I’d be able to talk to her. To convince her that Summer was just using her. They said they’d do anything to get her back. To get Brooklyn back for me.”
A dazed expression crosses her face, and I recoil.
How did I never see how fucking crazy she is?
I feel so blind. Foolish.
“Tell me about what happened yesterday,” the agent across from her demands.
Yesterday, because it’s currently three in the morning. A new day. Yet I’m wide awake. Fury boils the exhaustion from my system.
Tatem’s eyes refocus, and she scowls. “I saw her come in with a big alpha. To my restaurant. Probably another man she was trying to seduce. So I called Jade to tell her Summer was there. She told me to keep an eye on her, and they’d be there shortly. They came around the back entrance and asked me to help them. They handed me the syringe. Said it was a mild sedative and that they’d be waiting in the back alley.” She shrugs. “I saw her go to the bathroom and followed her.”
I don’t stick around to hear anything else. She confessed. That’s enough for me.
So I leave the station, nodding to James on my way out, and go home to my mate.
Twenty-Five
Mason
“They say that hindsight is twenty-twenty. But it’s not really. That’s a misleading fucking cliche. It could be, I guess. But it’s only twenty-twenty if you’ve got an honest, unbiased outlook on the past. Otherwise, you’re just making the same mistakes over and over again.” I look at Summer. Those big brown eyes I love so much–the ones that are usually staring back into mine with love and acceptance–are drilling holes into the wall. It wouldn’t surprise me if she didn’t even recognize my scent, much less realize I’m here talking to her.
