Page 46 of Claiming the Pack’s Omega (Riverwell Omegaverse #2)

Milo

“ C an I talk to you real quick?” Killian asks, his voice pitched low so no one else can hear us.

I glance over to where Theo is helping Stone back up the stairs. Reyna is following along behind them to make sure he gets all the meds he needs tonight.

“Sure,” I say, sliding my hands into the pockets of my sweats.

“I’m sure you know what I’m going to ask,” Killian says.

“Yes,” I nod. “Nate Fisher. Find out who he is.”

Killian grips my shoulder and squeezes. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me, I would’ve done it even if you didn’t ask me.”

“Let me know what you find, alright?”

“Will do.”

This is what I’m good at. This is how I can help Reyna.

I’m no good at most of the things an omega would probably ask of her alphas. It’s a wonder I even presented as one, with how pathetic I feel most of the time.

But I can do this.

I can find out who the hell this Nate guy is and give that information to the rest of the pack.

I may be physically weak, but that can’t be said about any of the other guys.

Plus, there’s something to be said about how well connected we are.

We have access to resources that a lot of people don’t.

Might as well use them to protect our omega and right all the wrongs of her past.

The moment the door to my bedroom shuts behind me, I’m in my element. The only light comes from the glow of the monitor screens in front of me as I immerse myself in my work with a single-minded focus: find the piece of shit who dared to betray Reyna’s trust so he could violate her.

I set up one of the scripts I regularly use for background checks and enter in the name of Reyna’s ex-boyfriend.

I have it run through as many databases I can think of.

There are the open-access court records, the Southside school records that are pretty easy to access, and other systems that aren’t public, but that I can access pretty easily.

What can I say, spending nearly every waking moment learning about technology since I could comprehend it has its benefits. It wasn’t like I had anything remotely close to a social life to distract me.

My computer dings as the program starts to make a few hits.

Nate Fisher is a common enough name, so I have to sort through a couple middle-aged dads, and one old guy, but then I find something.

A yearbook photo.

A senior year, yearbook photo.

He’s got curly brown hair and a confident grin.

So this was the boy that Reyna fell in love with. If I were a teenage girl, maybe I would see the appeal, but I can’t see past what he did to Reyna. She gave him her love and he hurt her.

If I were held at gunpoint and told the only way I could survive was to lay a single finger on her, I’d swallow that bullet with pride. It takes a certain kind of monster to do what he did to someone he supposedly loved.

I hate him.

I hate his stupid face. I hate his stupid jawline. I hate how he has that same stupid smirk as all of the guys who bullied me relentlessly.

I take a breath, my jaw clenching so hard it creaks.

I feel a sting at one of my cuticles. Shit, I guess I was picking at them again. There’s a bit of blood there, but I just wipe it away before turning back to my work.

Now I know what his face looks like. I can do a lot with that. You’d be surprised how effective facial recognition software has gotten these days.

A hit from the police records database pops up and my eyes go wide. It’s not what I expected. At all.

It’s a missing persons’ report. Two years after the incident at the park.

If anything, I expected to see a police report.

I wouldn’t put it past a spineless douchebag like him to try and file something against Reyna’s old pimp, even if he was the one trying to rape Reyna.

With a mind as twisted as his, it’s not out of the realm of possibility that he convinced himself he was just helping himself to what he deserved.

I’ve seen that sort of attitude from alphas, when it comes to omegas they think are theirs, before.

But no, this is something different.

Two years is long enough for this to be unrelated to what happened to Reyna. Now I just need to figure out what that is.

I scan through the police file. There’s not a lot of information there, which is unsurprising, considering this is the Southside branch and they’re chronically understaffed and underfunded. But then I see something that makes me straighten from my slouched position on my chair.

Disappearance possibly related to Sorel family.

Fuck.

It just so happens that Reyna’s attempted rapist is involved with the big crime family we’re trying to take down? Small fucking world.

It makes a chill run down my spine when I remember the fact that the Sorel family was interested in Reyna, too.

I need to find out more about them.

We know they make omegas disappear, but this is the first time I’ve heard about them making alphas disappear.

I spin my chair to face my other set of monitors and get to work digging. After hours of finding absolutely nothing, I feel like I want to bang my head against the desk. I feel a headache starting to form, but I know I won’t be able to get any sleep right now, not when I haven’t made any progress.

I normally have a terrible time falling asleep anyway. I much prefer work to being paralyzed in my dreams.

I reach under my desk and pull out an energy drink. Might as well continue working, then.

I crack it open and take a healthy swig before turning back to my screens.

The Sorel family seems to be shrouded in mystery. I didn’t know anything about them until Stone went undercover and mentioned the name as a group of interest for the case. They must be hiding their tracks somehow. Everyone has some sort of internet presence these days.

Which means they must be somewhere on the dark web, if I’ve been unable to find them so far.

If my setup weren’t air tight, I know going onto the dark web would be stupid, considering it would probably get the pack house’s address stuck on a list somewhere. Luckily, I know what I’m doing.

I go down a rabbit hole, working backwards from The Warehouse and trying to figure out if I can trace the abnormal things that were happening in that establishment recently back to any one group.

That’s when I find myself staring at what looks to be a grainy livestream-style video of some sort of fighting ring. It looks like some sort of preview video, some incentive to cough up some money to get something better.

I take another gulp of my energy drink, the caffeine and excitement of possibly making some headway buzzing through my veins.

Two blurs pop up on the screen, launching themselves at each other. It takes me a second to figure out what I’m looking at, but when I figure it out, the leftover berry flavor of my energy drink turns sour.

It’s two alphas. Two very, very, very feral alphas that are obviously on some sort of drugs. Probably a whole cocktail of them. Even in the grainy video, I can see the wildness in their eyes and in their vicious attacks. They barely have any humanity left.

How in the world did they end up like that?

Fuck, I should be recording this shit. This is insane. It’s one thing to have the fighting rings that Stone went to when he was undercover, it’s a totally different thing to have feral alphas fighting in a death cage.

A few seconds after I start screen recording, my computer screen flickers and then it crashes.

My room is dark, except for the first hints of sunshine peeking through my curtains.

“Shit!” I curse under my breath, standing up so suddenly that it sends my chair crashing to the floor. I run my hands through my hair, pulling at it until I feel the burn of my scalp.

I thought I covered my tracks well enough, but I must’ve done something to trigger whatever cybersecurity systems they have in place. This only means one thing. They have a fuckton more money than you’d expect a single Southside gang to have, even if they’re well involved in the illegal drug trade.

This is a lot bigger than we thought.

I try rebooting my computer and checking how much damage was done.

“Thank God,” I mutter under my breath, when it looks like everything is fine. I’ll have to run longer diagnostics to be sure, but it looks like I’m in the clear.

I check the folder where I keep all my screen recordings and an actual grin tugs at my lips for the first time all night.

The video is still there.

I click it open and see the four-second clip play on my screen. The quality is still shit, but it’s there.

Fuck yeah.

This is better than nothing. It’s enough to bring the rest of the pack when I tell them we’ve got a problem.

I pull out my phone, scrubbing my hand down my face. This can’t wait.

Milo

You guys up?

Killian

Yes. What’s going on?

Theo

Everything alright?

Milo

I think I need to call a pack meeting

Stone

Just woke up

We can have it in my room

I run into Killian and Theo in the hallway outside of Stone’s room. They’re both already dressed in their suits for the day, so they must be getting ready to head into work.

“Is everything alright?” Theo asks, gripping my shoulder, his brows drawn down in concern.

“Yeah, I just have something to show you guys. It has to do with the case,” I say, nodding down to my laptop tucked under my arm.

“Let’s check it out, then,” Killian nods.

I give Stone’s door a knock and he yells for us to come in.

“Damn, you look like you haven’t slept a fucking wink, Milo," he says to me.

I shrug. “That’s cause I haven’t.”

“What did you want to show us?" He asks, his expression growing serious.

“Nate Fisher, Reyna’s ex-boyfriend? Turns out he went missing two years after he tried to assault her.

I found the missing person’s report in the police records.

” I run my tongue along the inside of my cheek.

“His disappearance was linked to the Sorel Family. He’s not the only alpha disappearance that’s been linked to them. ”