Chapter Fifty-Six

Caleb

Sirena narrows our list of suspects to about forty alphas. Granted, she doesn't have much to go on—white, male, probably early seventies, with a bank statement somewhere in the millions, and carrying a gold-tipped cane.

"They don't have a checkbox for ‘gold canes' in the official records," she mutters.

I do my best to be patient. We're asking a lot, and not giving her much time.

But every second Faith is away from us, my alpha becomes a little more unstable.

Thanks to the entire RDF pulling an all-nighter, Jaxon, Delia, and I are knocking on doors by first light.

It's very rare the white, early-seventies alpha actually answers the door. Normally we're greeted by a housekeeper, just clocking in for the day. All of whom are shrewd enough not to let us inside without their boss's permission.

That's Sirena's next big task, I think to myself. Search warrants.

My phone has been buzzing incessantly since before we started. It chimes again as we walk away from our third dead-end.

MAVERICK

Anything?

The text thread is filled with the same question about ten times. Every time my answer has been the same. Not yet.

"They're gonna have a hard time keeping him in that hospital bed," Jaxon mutters, reading over my shoulder.

"Too bad," I grunt back. "He's not cleared for active duty."

Jaxon just grunts.

Two broken ribs and a monstrous concussion—Maverick would be lucky to get back to work in the next fortnight. Forget the next twenty-four hours.

"You mad at him?" Jaxon asks suddenly.

I scowl. "What?"

"He took her out in public. I know he wasn't expecting anyone from the ring to have their eye on the suburbs, but obviously … he was wrong."

To my surprise, it's Delia who answers, walking behind us. "He got hit by a truck," she reminds him, blandly. "A truck ."

My packmate pulls away. "I know, it's just—"

"He also took a bullet for her. In case you'd forgotten."

It makes sense that she'd defend him—they worked together quite closely, before I roped Maverick into bigger and bigger jobs. And she makes a fair point. If anyone should be proving their commitment to Faith's safety, it's not Maverick.

It's me.

***

I'm surprised to find Micah at headquarters when we get back from our first round of door duty. It was by some miracle I managed to convince him to go home last night to sleep, and yet, judging by his eye bags, he hasn't gotten a wink.

"Sirena briefed me on your suspects," he tells us without saying hello. "I've been working on a geographic profile."

Jaxon and I look at each other—equal parts concerned and curious.

"Hit me," I say.

He leads us to a whiteboard in the middle of the bullpen. A map of the city has been sprawled open with magnets, red markings all over the place.

"Here," he says, pointing up to the far east. "Are the most expensive properties in New Caniss."

"We know," Jaxon scoffs. "We spent all morning there."

Micah shakes his head. "You can rule it out. Too flashy. This alpha is wealthy, but he's also cautious. He likes his privacy."

"Okay, then …?"

Micah points again—further east still, almost at the edge of the map. "Here. I checked the system, and there are a handful of properties. Mostly warehouses, boutiques, out-of-the-way restaurants. Really high-end stuff. Plus— " he indicates three circled locations. "These multi-million-dollar houses."

"Hang on." I fold my arms. "That's way too far from the inner-city. It would take half the day by foot, especially if they're moving underground."

"Which explains why you've barely seen them in the city," Micah says. "Or, when you do, you can't trace them back. The scent gets lost along the way."

I have to admit … it makes sense. And if he's right, it lowers our suspect pool down to one or two.

"If you're wrong," I force myself to say, "we'll waste valuable hours driving there and back."

"I'm not wrong," Micah insists. "I promise."

His force, his certainty, takes me aback. Unusually for an alpha, it's not in Micah's nature to be assertive. The closest he ever used to get was at work, looking after patients, really in his element. And then, of course … when Faith was at his side.

"Alright." I quickly run the calculations in my head. "Sirena—crosscheck those three properties with our suspect pool. Then get a warrant. The rest of you." I look around the room. "Gear up. All hands on deck."

Though the whole team must be running on fumes, I hear no complaints. My squadmates leap to action, their determination a tart, metallic scent in the air.

Find omega, my inner alpha demands, bring her home. Properly, this time—with a nest, a scent, and a thorough course in sign language for me and my packmates. I'll buy a new apartment if that's what she wants. One with an extra space for her, and her mate.

The determination swells up inside of me.

I don't just want to find Faith. I want her to be mine.

It feels weird to sit with these words. Maybe I don't have the mental space left to push them out. Or maybe, now I've lost her, everything else is finally becoming clear.

"Caleb," Jaxon's voice snaps me out of it. "We going?"

I cough, surprised to feel a knot in the back of my throat. I owe my packmate an apology. Both of them.

I see you now, I want to tell them. I see … everything.

"Yeah." I re-holster my gun. "We're going."

***

The search warrant barely comes through in time for us to get there.

The property, listed under Mr Duke Cunningham, is just as lavish as I expected. Smooth, pale paint across the exterior. Glossy windows with wooden panes. Three stories, by my estimation. Sirena said she was working on the blueprints to see if there's anything we should look out for. Namely, anything underground.

As much as it pains me, we follow procedure—waiting for the SWAT team to break down the door and do their preliminary sweep before charging inside.

The rooms sprawl out, joined by open archways. SWAT keeps calling out, instructing anyone home to come out with their hands up.

"I heard something upstairs," one of them says. He gestures for a couple guys to follow him, and I tag along—nodding at Jaxon to keep looking around down here.

We storm up the stairs. Kick down all the doors. So far, no-one has shown themselves.

That's when I hear it, too.

Whimpering.

I push in front of the SWAT guys, opening the final door myself—right at the end of the hall. Presumably a bedroom.

I don't know what I'm expecting to find.

But it's not this.

Three female omegas, wearing nothing but their underwear, huddle together in the back corner. They each have a tag on their ankles, blinking red.

"Weapons down," I bark. The SWAT guys behind me hesitate for a moment before obeying.

"Hey …" Slowly, I inch forward, my hands up. "It's going to be okay. I'm with the Rogue Defense Force—we're here to help."

The omegas try to cover themselves, wrapping their arms around their chests.

Lowly, I snap over my shoulder, "Get some blankets. Hurry."

Someone dashes off. I stay where I am, not wanting to scare the omegas further.

"My name's Caleb," I tell them. "What about yours?"

One of them—with long brown hair and wary eyes—shifts in front of her friends, shielding them. "I'm Vera." Her face darkens. "But he calls me Alice."

"He?"

"The old fuck," one of the other omegas, small and fierce, snarls. "He owns this house." She grits her teeth. "And us."

Suddenly it all makes sense. This alpha who bid on Faith—he's bought rogues from the ring before. Hell, he's probably been doing it for years, if he already has three locked away in his mansion.

Axe's words ring in my head. He's got a vested interest in making sure the ringleaders don't get arrested.

I should hold back. These poor omegas have been through enough … but I can't help myself. Not when I imagine Faith's fate being anything like this.

"What can you tell me about him?" I press, gently. Someone hands me a heap of blankets, and I offer them to the omegas, seeing them relax slightly as they cover up. "Duke Cunningham."

Vera shudders. "What do you want to know?"

Suddenly Jaxon comes barging in. "Caleb!" he gasps. Then, seeing the omegas, he stops. "Woah. What's—?"

"Everything clear?" I cut him off.

"Uh …" he looks at the omegas again, concerned. "We found an underground bunker, but it's been cleared out. Recently." His voice deepens. "I scented Faith."

My heart stops. Faith. She was here.

"I guess Micah knew what he was talking about," I mutter, then turn back to the omegas. "I'm sorry to ask—I promise we'll get you somewhere safe soon—but this is urgent. Do you know where Duke could've gone? Any other properties he's talked about? Any big plans?"

The omegas look between each other. I see in that moment how pale they are, like the only light they've seen in months —maybe years—is the light coming into this house. Already, I make a mental note of all the health checks they need. What kind of rehab might work best.

And how to make sure Duke Cunningham spends the rest of his life behind bars.

Quietly, Vera says, "I can think of a place."