Page 18 of Mating Mia (The Alphas’ Perfect Prey #2)

“Harder,” I beg, needing more despite having just come. “Please, Jace, fuck me harder.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. His hips thrust forward with increased force, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room as he pounds into me.

The bed creaks beneath us, the headboard hitting the wall with each powerful thrust.

“Oh fuck,” Jace growls, his rhythm faltering as he nears his climax. “Going to fill this sweet pussy with my cum, lock us together so you feel me for hours while we’re shopping.”

“Yes,” I cry out, my walls clenching around him as the pressure builds. “Knot me, please, I need it!”

With a final, powerful thrust, Jace pushes his swelling knot past my entrance, locking us together as he erupts inside me. The feeling of his hot release flooding my channel, combined with the pressure of his knot against all my most sensitive spots, triggers my climax.

I come with a scream, my entire body shuddering as pleasure crashes through me in waves.

Jace collapses forward, careful to catch his weight on his arms to avoid crushing my belly. We’re both panting, covered in a light sheen of sweat, still joined intimately as his knot ensures his seed stays deep inside me.

“Well, that’s one way to start the morning,” I say once I can speak again, a breathless laugh escaping me.

Jace grins, pressing a tender kiss to my lips. “Best way, if you ask me.”

The sound of a throat clearing makes us both freeze. I look up to find Kane standing in the doorway, his expression a mixture of exasperation and barely concealed desire.

“Really, Jace?” he says, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “We’re already running late, and you thought this was a good time to knot our omega?”

Jace doesn’t look remotely apologetic. If anything, his grin widens as he shifts slightly inside me, making me gasp as his knot presses against sensitive tissue.

“She needed it,” he says with a shrug. “Stress relief before the appointment.”

Kane sighs heavily, but I can see the bulge in his pants betraying his arousal. Despite how annoyed he looks, I know he wishes he were the one knotted inside me right now.

A couple of hours later, we’ve found an adoption agency, and it feels like the white walls of the adoption agency are closing in on me with each passing minute as we wait for an answer.

I shift uncomfortably in the plastic chair, my swollen ankles throbbing despite the brief rest.

We’ve been waiting for over an hour since they took my fingerprints, and the clock on the wall seems to be moving backward rather than forward.

Kane sits to my right, his large hand resting protectively on my thigh, while Finn stands by the window, his serious gaze fixed on the parking lot as if expecting trouble.

Jace flips through an ancient parenting magazine, but I can tell by the way he keeps checking his watch that his patience is wearing thin as well.

“What’s taking so long?” I mutter, rubbing my lower back, where an ache has taken up permanent residence over the past few weeks.

“This might be the day for answers, little omega,” says Kane, rubbing soothing circles on my thigh with his thumb.

I glance around at the other waiting couples- a young pair holding hands nervously, an older man with graying temples filling out paperwork with methodical precision, a woman sitting alone whose fingers never stop tapping against her knee.

We are all waiting for news that will reshape our lives, one way or another.

“This is another dead end, isn’t it?” I whisper. “They’re probably in there trying to figure out how to tell us they have no records matching my description. Again.”

Jace abandons his magazine to kneel in front of me, taking both my hands in his. “Hey, don’t jump to conclusions. Maybe they’re just being thorough.”

I want to kiss him for his eagerness to make sure I’m happy, but anxiety fills me instead.

“They took your fingerprints. That’s different from the other agencies,” says Finn. None of the previous places had asked for my fingerprints, so he had a point.

Another half-hour passes, and just as I’m about to suggest we leave and come back tomorrow, the door to the inner offices opens.

A middle-aged woman in a sensible navy suit emerges, the same adoption counselor who took my information earlier. But she’s not alone. Behind her is a woman in a police uniform, her expression grave as her eyes scan the waiting room and land on me.

My heart lurches painfully against my ribs. Why is there a police officer? What could possibly warrant law enforcement involvement in my simple records search?

“Mia?” the counselor calls, looking directly at me as if she knows exactly who I am. “Would you and your... companions please come with us?”

Kane helps me to my feet, his arm immediately circling my waist in a protective gesture that I’m grateful for as my legs suddenly feel unsteady. The four of us follow the counselor and officer down a narrow hallway to a conference room with a large table and several chairs.

“Please, take a seat,” the officer says, gesturing to the chairs.

We arrange ourselves around the table—me between Kane and Jace, with Finn taking the chair closest to the door, positioning himself as our first line of defense should anything go wrong. The counselor places a folder on the table but doesn’t open it immediately.

The officer remains standing, her hands clasped in front of her. “Ms. Jenkins, my name is Officer Reynolds. I’m with the Special Victims Unit, specifically the child trafficking division.”

“Child trafficking?” I repeat my voice barely a whisper. “I don’t understand.”

The counselor, whose nameplate reads Ms. Winters, opens the folder on her desk.

“When we ran your fingerprints through our system, we got a match to a case file from twenty-three years ago. According to our records, you weren’t legally adopted, Ms. Jenkins.

You were kidnapped from this very agency when you were two years old. ”

The room tilts sideways, and Kane’s hand finds mine, squeezing so tight it almost hurts, anchoring me to reality when everything else seems to be floating away.

“How is that possible?” I ask, my mind racing to keep up with this news that I never expected to hear. “How could they just... take a child? How did no one notice?”

Ms. Winters exchanges a look with the officer before continuing. “You weren’t the only one. There were six babies reported missing from various agencies in the state that morning—August 5th. All of you disappeared within hours of each other.”

“A trafficking ring,” Officer Reynolds explains. “We’ve been trying to crack it for decades, but the trail always went cold. Until now.”

My hand moves protectively to my belly, the horror of what they’re saying finally sinking in.

I wasn’t adopted. I was stolen.

Taken from the system before my birth mother could find me, or I could find her. The people who raised me, who beat me, belittled me, and made me feel worthless had actually kidnapped me.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” I murmur, and instantly Jace is at my side with a trash can, his other hand rubbing soothing circles on my back as I heave into it. Nothing comes up—we haven’t eaten since breakfast—but the nausea doesn’t subside.

“Take your time,” Officer Reynolds says, her voice softer now. “I know this is a shock.”

When I finally look up, tears are streaming down my face. I don’t remember starting to cry. “You said I was brought here? Before being... taken?”

Ms. Winters nods, pushing a tissue box toward me. “According to the records, an elderly woman brought you to this agency. She wasn’t a relative—at least, she didn’t claim to be. She said she found you abandoned and wanted to make sure you were placed with a good family.”

“Who was she?” I ask, desperate for any clue, any connection to my past.

“Her name was Larissa Gray,” Ms. Winters says, consulting her notes. “She was in her sixties at the time. She visited you every day for the two weeks you were here before the kidnapping.”

Something clicks in my mind, a fragmented memory so old and faded I’m not sure if it’s real or just something I’ve constructed: the smell of lavender, a soft, wrinkled hand stroking my hair, a voice singing a lullaby I can’t quite recall.

“Was she... was she investigated?” Kane asks, his tone carefully controlled despite the tension radiating from him.

Officer Reynolds shakes her head. “She was cleared. There was nothing linking her to the kidnappings.”

“I can’t believe this,” I mutter, blowing my nose into a tissue, trying to process everything.

“We need your help,” Officer Reynolds says simply. “We need names, addresses, any information you can give us about the people who raised you.”

I freeze, conflicted. Despite everything that the family did to me, despite this new horrible truth, the thought of sending police to their door makes my stomach twist.

“They’re not good people,” I say slowly. “But my siblings will be alone.”

“Your siblings?” Ms. Winters asks, leaning forward with sudden interest.

“Five of them,” I confirm. “All adopted. Or... I guess maybe not adopted at all.”

The implication hits me like a physical blow. If I were kidnapped, what about the others? Are they all stolen children, torn from their birth families just like me?

Officer Reynolds’s expression confirms my fears. “Six missing babies, Ms. Jenkins. Six.”

“Oh god,” I whisper, the full horror washing over me. My siblings aren’t just victims of Steve and Martha’s emotional abuse—they’re victims of kidnapping, their entire identities built on lies. “I had no idea.”

“Most kidnapped children don’t,” she replies gently. “That’s what makes these cases so difficult to solve.”

I turn to Kane, searching his face for guidance. His eyes are stormy with barely-contained rage, but when he speaks, his voice is calm and measured for my benefit.

“Think about your siblings. They deserve to know the truth, just like you do. They deserve a chance to find their real families.”

His words cut through my hesitation like a knife through butter. He’s right, of course. Whatever misplaced loyalty I might still feel toward the Jenkinses, my siblings deserve better.

They deserve the truth.

“Okay,” I say, straightening my spine with newfound resolve. “I’ll tell you everything.”

For the next half hour, I provide every detail I can remember—full names, birth dates, the farm’s address, descriptions of each family member, even the names of neighbors who might corroborate my story.

With each fact I divulge, a weight lifts from my shoulders, like I’m finally breaking free from invisible chains that have bound me to that farm for years.

When I finish, Officer Reynolds closes her notebook with a solemn nod. “Thank you, Ms. Jenkins. This is more than we’ve had to go on in years.”

“What will happen to them?” I ask, my heart beating hard.

“They’ll face charges,” she says frankly. “The severity depends on what else we uncover. But I promise we’ll be sensitive about your siblings. Their welfare is our priority.”

I nod, suddenly exhausted by the emotional marathon of the past hour. “Is there anything else you need from me?”

Ms. Winters hesitates, then reaches into her desk drawer.

“Actually, there is one more thing,” she says, pulling out a slip of paper and sliding it across the desk to me. “This is Larissa Gray’s last known address. We have no idea if she’s still alive, but if anyone might know something about your origins, it would be her.”

My hand trembles as I take the paper. An address in West Virginia, not too far from where we are now. Another tenuous thread connecting me to my past, one that might unravel in my hands or lead me to answers I’ve been seeking my entire life.

“Thank you,” I whisper, clutching the paper like it’s made of gold.

Officer Reynolds hands me her card. “Call me if you remember anything else. And... good luck finding your answers.”

We leave the office in a daze, the fluorescent lights of the hallway suddenly too bright. By the time we reach the van, my legs are shaking so badly that Finn simply lifts me into his arms, cradling me against his chest like I’m made of glass.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his normally stoic face etched with concern as he sets me gently in the passenger seat.

“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. The magnitude of what I’ve learned today is still washing over me in waves. I was kidnapped. And somewhere out there, a woman once cared enough to visit me every day for two weeks straight.

Kane slides into the driver’s seat, taking the paper from my hand to input the address into the GPS.

“She lives close by,” he muses.

“You want to go right now?” I ask, surprised despite myself. Part of me expected them to insist I rest after such an emotional ordeal.

“Do you want to wait?” he counters, his dark eyes studying my face.

I consider this for a moment, one hand resting on my belly where our child grows, unaware of the upheaval in its mother’s life. The truth is, I don’t want to wait. I’ve spent years not knowing who I am or where I came from. Every minute we delay is another minute lost.

“No,” I decide. “Let’s go now.”