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Chapter Fifteen

Leo

T he guard behind me slams my face into the wall, grinding my cheek into the brick. If Shaw would stop talking shit, they’d probably be a lot less aggressive, but I get it. He’s panicking, and that always makes him more antagonistic.

My forehead bounces against the wall as the guy wraps his hand in my hair, giving me another strong shove. His free hand forces my fingers at an angle toward my lower back, and I hiss as pain radiates up my arm. He has to have some type of military or police training.

That, or prison guard syndrome.

I’ve met some decent correctional officers in my time, and I’ve met some with a superiority complex. It’s really the luck of the draw on who you interact with.

We’ve got no chance to fight back. They’re in full riot gear, minus the shields, and at this point, it’s better to peacefully see what comes next.

My partner obviously doesn’t agree.

Shaw growls, and there’s commotion from behind me, but I can’t see anything with the way my head is twisted.

“Chill out,” I hiss. “Fighting isn’t going to do anything but cause us more problems.”

“This is fucking bullshit,” he snarls. “Like this place really gives a shit what happens once the prisoners are released. It should be up to us who we want to bond.”

“Tough shit,” one of the guards says, sounding amused. “You all think you’re special. Entitled children who act like we should take your feelings into account. You might be important to whoever paid for your stay, but once you’re inside the facility, you’re just another number.”

The guard shoving me to the wall lets off his hold and tugs me back by my cuffs. He drags me to an open doorway and into an interrogation room. There are two chairs on our side of a long thin table and places for our cuffs to be locked in.

Jesus Christ.

What the hell are they up to now?

* * *

Shaw struggles against his cuffs, huffing so loudly the sound echoes around the bare room. They might be punishing us for his bad attitude, or they might be trying to determine which block to move us to, but we’ve been in this room for at least an hour, maybe two.

It’s a good thing I don’t need to piss, because I’ve already scoped out the room. There are no visible cameras to stare at to appeal for a bathroom break. That doesn’t necessarily mean there are no audio or visual recording devices.

Shaw and I didn’t even have to discuss it to mutually decide to treat this like being detained behind enemy lines.

That means no communication.

Not even chitchat.

Time passes exceptionally slowly, to the point I have plenty of opportunities to think through all the mistakes I’ve made in life. I’ve got so many regrets with how we handled things with Saylor that it’s hard to know heads from tails. And at the same time, I don’t think I would have respected myself if I didn’t see myself out of her life to give her a chance to spread her wings. Only, we came in here and managed to make a whole new slew of mistakes.

The door slams open.

My head whips up, but I catch sight of Shaw before I make out who’s coming into the room. His jaw tightens, and I twist even farther in my seat.

McCabe closes the door loudly and strides across the room. He heads to a panel on the opposite wall and shoves his key card into the device. When we were placed in here, I assumed the keypad next to the doorway was to unlock that door that leads to God knows where, but he types in a six- or eight-digit numerical code and glances around the room.

I find myself doing the same, but there are no lights that indicate camera feeds. I know because I checked at length earlier. There’s no way to be sure, but my gut says he just cut the security feeds.

The guard rolls his shoulders back, shoves his key card into his pocket, and walks over to the table. Pulling the file folder from under his arm, he tosses it down and grabs the chair before taking a seat.

“What part of keep your fucking heads down was difficult to understand?” he growls, jabbing a finger at Shaw. “I did you assholes a favor by rushing your intake, and this is how you repay me? By killing two HVAs?”

Shaw scoffs. “Can you call a wannabe rapist a high-value asset? In my book, that’s the kind of dog you put down.”

“Men like you and me? Sure, for us, sexual assault is the most vile crime you can imagine because it’s the one you’d never commit.” McCabe’s head shakes. “Every level of this facility is filled with evil. If you can dream it, they’ve done it.”

“And you can just ignore that and go about your assignment?” I ask, my disgust evident.

“My mission parameters are clear,” McCabe says simply. “And my time here is coming to an end.” He nods at the two of us. “As is yours. I gave you the better part of ten hours to claim the omega. You failed to complete your mission, so now I’m once again forced into the role of savior.”

“How exactly are you saving us by separating us from Saylor?” Shaw growls. His foot bounces against the floor, betraying his emotions.

He should know better.

He does know better.

But I get it.

I’m a fucking mess too.

I just have a slightly better poker face.

Shaw has always worn his emotions on his sleeve. At least, when it comes to Saylor.

“The facility supervisor won’t allow you to be placed back in the cell with Saylor.” McCabe shrugs. “He read me the riot act for the last hour for the oversight of placing her back in the cell with you in the first place. I don’t have the authority to override his decision, so I made the best call I could under the circumstances.”

“Could you be a little more specific?” I ask, slamming my foot into Shaw’s under the table.

His head whips in my direction, but it stops his chair from shaking, meaning mission accomplished.

“When alphas fail to bond during their prepaid time at the facility, there are three options,” McCabe says calmly. “The first is, their benefactor pays the nominal fee of one-hundred thousand euros to be done with the problem. The doctor handles the euthanization and everyone moves on with their day. The second is, the benefactor chooses to extend the stay of the asset or assets. The third rarely plays out, but it has on occasion. If the benefactor simply gets tired of paying, we release the assets back into the world. Former prisoners have been known to hold a grudge against whoever trapped them here, and in some cases, they take out their bosses without any prodding necessary. Once they’re released, they’re no longer our problem.”

“So, you’re going to keep us in this room for the next six months?” Shaw asks dubiously. “Just let it ride until our time runs out?”

“No,” the British man says, rolling his icy blue eyes. “Under the same vein of option three, a benefactor in good standing—meaning they don’t owe the facility any money—can request their asset back at any time, for any reason. It’s in the contract your boss at Shadow Security signed.” McCabe flips open the file, shoving at us. “I reached out to Easton. He approved your immediate dismissal from the facility. Ridge is en route. He will meet our team in a little less than two hours.” He taps a photo on the left side of the folder.

I vaguely remember Omen mentioning that, for security reasons, no one knows exactly where the facility is located.

My eyes rake over the picture McCabe gestures to. It seems to be a warehouse or possibly a small airplane hangar. He has to know we won’t be leaving the country without Saylor, no matter what he or the other guards have to say about it.

“Is that the meeting place where we’ll be surrendered to Ridge?” I ask.

“No.” He slides the picture aside and there are several others. “Amato isn’t in the mood to wait. He will arrive in Germany in under twenty-four hours. He’s requested immediate access to his assets. The meeting is scheduled for nine p.m. tomorrow. The facility has three locations we use to relinquish prisoners to their benefactors.”

“That’s where you’ll be dropping off Saylor, Omen, and Valor?” Shaw leans over the table, examining the images even more closely.

“Correct,” McCabe says, pulling a tiny slip of paper from the paperclip on the front cover of the folder. He shoves his chair back and walks around the table, squatting down at Shaw’s side. “This is the address of the meeting point.” He pushes the paper into the side of Shaw’s boot before standing and grabbing the interior picture of the warehouse or hangar. He folds it up and slides it into the side of my boot, jamming it down deep enough that no one will be able to see it unless they give me a thorough search. “I suggest you scout it out and have your plan in place before the sun goes down.” He pops up, procures a handcuff key, and moves to uncuff me. “My mission here has come to an end. As long as everything runs smoothly, I’ll be exfilling while you’re rescuing Saylor. Once you’re handed over to your coworker, I’ll be unable to assist in any capacity.”

“Why exactly are you helping us?” Shaw asks as McCabe pulls off my cuffs.

I rub at the tender, broken skin and stretch my fingers to regain feeling.

McCabe grabs Shaw’s cuffs and gets to work uncuffing him. “I didn’t put my neck on the line for that woman to have her raped and tormented by Amato while he uses her as leverage to keep his minions in line.” The clicking of Shaw’s cuffs fills the air and the British MI6 agent steps back. “I’ve also negotiated two favors—one from your boss and the other from her father. I’m hoping to retire with my life intact. I’ve been collecting markers for twelve years, but something tells me those will be particularly useful when it’s time for me to call them in, especially the one from the senator.”

My eyes narrow, but I quickly kick Shaw’s foot to tell him to stand down. I’m not any fonder of that fucker than he is, but bottom line, even if McCabe has an agenda of his own, he still saved our asses. He can act like he’s superior in this situation.

If anything goes wrong, Shaw and I will hunt him down, but for now, he can think he’s won.

Little does he know, the senator is a fucking snake. I wouldn’t trust that man to honor his word, and if Easton brokered the favor transaction… I know East well enough to understand that favor may or may not actually exist. Easton isn’t above lying to ensure his desired outcome, and for the first time in a long time, I’m really fucking grateful for that.

* * *

The van Shaw and I are put into seems to drive around for hours. It could be exhaustion and boredom setting in, but I give up trying to track the turns and directions after less than half an hour.

I wouldn’t be shocked to find out they’ve been driving us in literal circles.

McCabe is with the guards for our transfer, but knowing Saylor will go through the same thing we have has my stomach in knots. She’s claustrophobic, and they’ve got me and Shaw in hoods with hands cuffed behind our backs. The only small piece of solace I can find is in knowing, as soon as she’s delivered to Amato, we’ll be reunited.

My whole body slings forward as the van makes a dramatic stop.

“Let’s make this an easy transition,” McCabe says from the front passenger seat. “You follow our instructions, and you get to live.”

Shaw exhales heavily, and I don’t need to see him to know he’s rolling his eyes so hard, they’re likely to get stuck in the back of his head.

The front doors of the van open and close, and the guards in the row behind us move around like they’re preparing to help pull us up. The rolling door next to me opens, and a frigid gust of wind slams into me. They never buckled us in, and I’m ripped from my seat without warning.

It’s a pain in the ass to keep from ending up face-first on the concrete, but being outside the fence of the facility is enough for me. The hood blocks my vision, and my head still whips in Shaw’s direction as he growls. I think it’s his arm that slams into mine as they line us up side by side.

“I’m going to need to see their faces,” Ridge calls out.

Fuck me.

It makes my damn knees weak.

Hearing a voice I recognize is nice, but I’m even more grateful to have him at our side for whatever comes next.

God knows we’re going to need all three of us to be in perfect unison to pull her rescue off in a way that ensures Saylor is never in any real danger.

The bag is ripped off my head, and I squint despite only being surrounded by a few dim overhead lights.

Ridge’s face comes into focus, and he smirks.

I almost scoff.

It’s dark, and he’s in the same pair of aviators that he always wears. They’re a signature piece of his attire, but I can’t even heckle him. As it turns out, seeing a friendly face outweighs the urge to haze him about his questionable fashion choices.

“Are you sure I’ve got to take them back?” Ridge calls out, chuckling darkly. “They’re looking pissy, and I’m gonna be the one stuck listening to them bitch and moan.”

“They’re going to uncuff the two of you now,” McCabe says, ignoring Ridge. “Keep your hands behind your backs as you move to your benefactor. Don’t turn around. No sudden movements.”

“Understood,” Shaw grinds out.

I simply nod.

Someone grabs my cuffs and unhooks them before ripping them off my wrists. I’m given a strong shove in the back that causes me to stumble forward, but I keep my eyes on Ridge, exhaling heavily when I hear Shaw’s boots keeping pace at my side.

Ridge laughs, keeping his hands in the pockets of his black tactical pants. “Pleasure doing business with you, gentlemen. Don’t worry, you can keep the other three hundred and forty-nine thousand dollars as a tip.”

The euro-to-dollar conversion makes his math off, but I keep my mouth shut.

Ridge spins around, nodding to the black SUV. “Hop in, fuckers. Glad to see you’re in one piece.”

I hold my breath until all three of us are inside the vehicle.

Ridge starts the engine, but it stays stationary. It takes a few seconds, and he puts the SUV into gear. “Huh, maybe I’m supposed to leave first since they don’t want anyone following them back to the facility.” He shrugs and takes off. “I’ve got your passports and a replacement for Saylor. Good news first—we’re in Germany, and they have some of my favorite guns. Bad news? Easton is ready to strangle the both of you.”

“Shit,” I mutter, grimacing.

“Yeah, I’d say he’s shit a golden brick or two over the last twelve hours,” Ridge says, pulling out onto a small road in a rundown town. “This contract is giving him premature gray hair.” He chuckles darkly. “He’ll probably forgive you once we handle taking possession of the omega. I let him get a good deal of his ranting and raving out, but one of you should call him once we get back to the safe house.”

“Saylor bonded an inmate,” Shaw says, carefully avoiding mentioning that occurred after we were reunited. “We had no choice but to change our plans. The facility doesn’t allow bonding to occur between one omega and alphas from more than one benefactor.”

“Yeah,” Ridge says, turning onto a much larger, equally dark road. “That sucks for you guys. So, are you going to rescue her and call it a day?”

“Fuck no,” Shaw growls.

At the same time, I say, “Not a chance. We also need to secure passports for the two men that she’ll be with before we can leave for the States.”

“They flushed her suppressants,” Shaw adds. “She’s been sick as fuck since we found her. We might need to hunker down until she can ride out her heat.”

“It’s always something.” Ridge sighs. “Whatever. I’ll let you pass on that news. I’m not getting stuck on another call, listening to East rant and rave for hours.”

“We don’t have time for that, anyway,” Shaw growls. “We have to plan a hot takedown in an unfamiliar country with only the three of us, no backup, and whatever weapons you’ve managed to secure since crossing the border.”

“Like I said, it’s always motherfucking something,” Ridge says with a snort.