Page 63 of Daisy (Omega Chosen #3)

Hawk

" H awk, report your position," Dante's voice crackles through my earpiece as I slip through the shadows toward the back of Governor Crane's mansion.

"Oh, you know," I say, stepping over some asshole guard who thought he could take me, "just enjoying the scenic route. Gotta say, rich people have really boring taste in garden statues."

"Hawk."

Ooh, someone's getting pissy. I fucking love winding up Dante when he's in full tactical commander mode.

"Relax, I'm at the service door. About to crash their little staff party." The lock gives way under my picks. "Seriously though, what kind of cheap bastard uses a lock this shitty on a mansion? I'm almost insulted."

"Status on basement access?"

I duck inside, immediately hit with the smell of bleach and old food. Servant central. "Working on it, boss man. Can't rush perfection, you know?"

What I don't mention is that I've already put down two guards who got a little too curious about my presence. Nothing permanent—well, mostly. One of them might be pissing blood for a few days, but he'll live.

"Hawk, I need actual intel. Not your running commentary."

"Wow, you're really sucking the fun out of this." I move down the hallway, checking doors as I go. Bunch of boring shit, cleaning supplies, fancy linens, more cleaning supplies. "What happened to living a little?"

The basement door's at the end of the hall, and this lock's serious business. Electronic keypad, the works. Good thing Gunner's paranoid ass made me this little gadget.

"Found the fun house entrance," I report.

"Details."

"Let's just say I'm about to go down the rabbit hole. Wish me luck, buttercup."

"Hawk—"

"Radio silence from here, captain. Trust me, you don't want to hear what's coming next."

Because whatever sick fuck keeps a locked basement in his fancy mansion isn't running a book club down here.

I fry the electronic lock with Gunner's EMP toy and slip inside. The stairs are narrow and cold, carved right out of the stone foundation. And the smell hits me about halfway down—fear, pain, and the unmistakable scent of an omega who's been suffering for a long fucking time.

My jaw clenches. Oh, this bastard's gonna pay.

The basement's bigger than expected, split into several rooms. Most of it's storage—wine, fancy furniture, probably blackmail material on half the city's elite assholes. But there's one room with a steel door that looks like it belongs in a prison.

And that's where the scent's strongest.

The lock on this door's old school—heavy iron, built to keep someone trapped. Takes me maybe thirty seconds to crack it.

"Son of a bitch," I mutter as the door swings open.

It's a fucking cell. Stone walls, a cot that's seen better decades, a bucket in the corner that I don't want to think about. No windows. No escape route except the door I just opened.

And huddled in the corner like a broken bird is a male omega.

Guy looks like a kid when I walk in, and the terror in his dark eyes makes me want to burn this whole place down.

Years of being locked away have left him looking younger than his thirty-something years—messy brown hair and skin that's never seen sunlight.

Too thin, like they've been starving him.

When he catches my scent, he tries to disappear into the stone wall.

"Hey," I say, stopping just inside the doorway and crouching down. "Easy there. I'm not here to hurt you."

He doesn't say anything, just stares at me like I'm about to eat him alive. His scent spikes with panic, and I can see him starting to shake.

"Name's Hawk," I continue, keeping my voice as gentle as I can manage. Which, let's be honest, isn't exactly my specialty. "I'm here to get you the hell out of this shithole."

Still nothing, but he's not trying to phase through solid rock anymore.

"What's your name?"

"T-Tyler," he whispers, and fuck me, the sound breaks something in my chest.

"Alright, Tyler. How long has that piece of shit been keeping you down here?"

He shakes his head like he's lost count. Probably has. No windows, no way to tell time. Just endless darkness and whatever sick games Crane's been playing.

"Doesn't matter," I say. "We're leaving. Right fucking now."

I start to move closer, and he flinches so hard he smacks his head on the wall.

"Whoa, okay. I won't touch you unless you say so." I back off, hands visible. "But Ty—can I call you Ty?—we need to move. There's some seriously bad shit happening upstairs, and we don't want to be here when it all goes sideways."

"He'll find me," Tyler whispers, tears starting to fall. "He always finds me. Says I can't leave. Says he needs me to stay."

And there it is. The full horror of what this sick fuck's been doing. Using this guy as his personal omega, keeping him locked up like a pet to prevent himself going feral.

"Listen to me, Ty." I make my voice as firm as I can without being threatening. "That asshole can't hurt you anymore. My friends are upstairs right now making sure he never hurts anyone again."

Something that might be hope flickers in his eyes. "Really?"

"Really. But we need to haul ass. Can you walk?"

He nods, struggling to his feet. Weak as hell, but mobile.

"Good man. Here's what we're gonna do—we go up those stairs, through the house, and out to where my partner's waiting with a van. But I need you to stick close, okay?"

I hold out my hand, palm up. His choice.

After what feels like forever, he reaches out and takes it. His fingers are freezing and shaking, but he holds on tight.

"There we go. You're tougher than you look, Ty."

We make our way upstairs slow and easy, Tyler gripping my hand like it's the only thing keeping him sane. I can hear chaos from the front of the house, perfect cover for our little escape party.

"Hawk to base," I murmur into my comm. "Got Package Two. Moving to pickup."

"Copy," August's voice comes back. "Gunner's ready."

I guide Tyler through the servant's quarters and out the back. Gunner's van's exactly where it should be, engine purring, ready to roll.

"Holy shit," Tyler breathes as I help him into the van. "You actually did it."

"Ty, I'm full of surprises." I grin at him as Gunner hits the gas. "And this is just the beginning."

"Dante, this is Hawk," I key the radio one more time. "Package Two secured and rolling to safety. And hey, turns out the rabbit hole was definitely worth the trip."

Pause. Then. "Copy. Good work."

I look at Tyler, who's wrapped in one of August's blankets and staring out the window like he's seeing the world for the first time. His scent's already changing—less fear.

"Where are we going?" he asks quietly.

"Somewhere safe," I promise. "Somewhere no one's ever gonna lock you up again."

Because that's what this whole clusterfuck revolution's about. Not just taking down corrupt politicians. It's about giving omegas like Tyler… like Daisy, like every omega who's been treated like property, the chance to live their own damn lives.

And watching the wonder on his face as he sees the sky for the first time in years?

Yeah. Worth every bruised knuckle.