Page 160 of Retribution

The words feel like a promise, and I force myself to look relaxed as we finally check in with a door man and file into a large room.

Gazing around, I find that there are exposed rafters and a sky light for entry.

Lucas, make sure you have someone on the roof,I whisper through the bond.

Kane and a guy named Shaw are up there,Lucas says.We have the place surrounded. We owe everything to the Minneapolis mafia.

We really do. While we cooled our heels waiting for the past four days, Adira pulled us in front of the Senior families to explain our story. Cian Sullivan, one of the leaders, agreed to throw his full support behind us, so when we got the message to move out, we gave the location to everyone helping us as well.

There are so many different walks of people in this building as we shuffle along. Blue collar, blue bloods, criminals, and everything in between. It helps us to blend in, but I was told in advance who would be in the building with us to help minimize friendly fire.

Oli and I have weapons strapped to our bodies in the hope that we wouldn’t be searched. I think Ophelia cares more about collecting her bag than how safe the atmosphere is.

“There’s the camera,” Oli mutters under his breath, his chin jutting in the direction of the video camera. “She’s really going to charge to have it streamed.”

“A few of us asked her to,” someone next to us says. There’s really no privacy here. “We were afraid she’d cut and run otherwise. This is the first time I’ve attended an event run by her. I don't want to buy an omega, just watch one die.”

There are men out there who hate omegas and women. Alpha or beta, they have something against the supposed power that omegas have over them. They won’t fuck them, and they have no interest in being at the mercy of a scent match.

Though, I think the pity would belong to the omega. I wouldn’t want anyone to match with one of these assholes.

My anxiety ramps up as Oli and I find a spot where we’re close to the stage. I don’t want to be here, but I have to be. If there’s a way for us to get to Isolde, we will.

Those thoughts quickly wither as several men climb the stairs on either side of the stage with machine guns. Ophelia smiles as she walks across the stage, waving as if she’s a fucking prom queen. Picking up a microphone, she raises her hand for silence, and everyone complies.

“Good evening everyone,” she says smugly. “It’s becoming difficult to continue to operate my business in Minnesota, so this is my retirement party. I hope you enjoy the show. I whipped up something special for the omega coming on stage. She’s going to beg for every inch of cock…right up until they slit her throat. Albin, will you bring up the cart, please?”

A man wearing a pair of boxers and nothing else walks up the steps with a white steel cart. There are items rattling on the traysas he puts it down and wheels it up to Ophelia, and she smiles benignly at him.

I memorize the man’s features, promising him death. He has messy blonde hair, cruel blue eyes, and a slant in his lips that promises pain to others. He seems completely unbothered as Ophelia pats him on the shoulder and he leaves the stage.

“Since we have such a large group of you, I do have extra security here today. It’s easy for people to get too excited, and this is a no touching event,” Ophelia continues. “In a few minutes, our omega will join us. She does know that she’s not going to survive this event, but she’s in the middle of a heat, which means she won’t care. She’ll die begging for more. The alphas fucking her tonight will be allowed to use anything on this cart.”

Lifting a wicked looking knife, she shrugs. “They know that they need to ensure this lasts long enough that you’ll get your money’s worth, and this omega has shown me over the years that she’s tough. I’m going to go ahead and turn this over to them.”

There are catcalls around the room as Ophelia grins and replaces the knife on the cart. There are knives, hoods, gags, handcuffs, meat cleaver, and so many more things that shouldn’t have a place there.

Who the fuck hurt her?

Ophelia disappears off the stage, and Oli grips my hand. Somehow, someway, we’re getting out of here with our girl.

Three alphas climb the stage and one is holding Isolde’s limp body when I feel a gun pressed against my back. Oli glances at me as well, frozen as he shakes his head.

“Mommy wants to make sure that you’re not a problem,” a disturbingly innocent sounding voice says. It’s not one that’s sane either.

Turning my head, I see a girl with long black hair pulled into a braid smiling evilly at me.

“Who’s your mom and who are you?” I rasp, swallowing hard.

“I’m Avery, and the woman on stage is my mom,” she shrugs. There are two guns in her hands, and her body is hiding them from the rest of the room. Oh fuck. “I think you should watch what happens to people who fuck with us. Then you can live with the knowledge that you couldn’t help her. Aren’t I the best?”

Lucas, we’ve been made,I say through the bond, turning to face the stage.Don’t worry about Oli and I…make sure you help Isolde. We’ll figure this out.

I hear cursing in my head before Lucas agrees.

No operation goes smoothly, but I didn’t have Ophelia’s psycho fucking daughter on my bingo card.

Isolde