Page 58 of Unbonded (Pack’s Companion #3)
I know a brush off when I hear one, but I turn my focus to the window, and a tense silence cocoons us for the rest of the ride to Queens.
We rendezvous with Patrick’s pack in a parking lot a block from the warehouse.
It’s after eight, and there’s a light drizzle in the air as we stand between our cars.
The shitty street lights wash us in a sickly yellow glow, and I watch their faces as they look us over.
There’s a guy with bright red hair and a knife blade of a grin who is clearly Patrick, but my focus shifts to the biggest guy in their pack.
He’s dressed like a soldier and has a dominance that brushes up against me like a rusty blade.
“What’s the saying?” Patrick asks, looking between us. “Two ubers are better than one?”
I ignore him, refusing to look away from the other alpha’s judgmental stare. I’m still in my suit, and I’m guessing he’s used to civilians backing down when he flashes his eyeshine at them. “Are you in control?” he demands, his voice as militant as his posture.
“Of what?”
His mouth turns down, and our onlookers shift uneasily on their feet. “That’s a lot of power you’re packing, Webber, and I don’t want it blowing up in our faces.”
Corbus chooses that moment to step out from behind me. “Bram has more control than any man I’ve ever met. But I advise you to stay out of our way. We’re retrieving our mate, and we don’t care who we have to go through to achieve that.”
“A billionaire with a ruthless streak,” Patrick muses, sucking his teeth. “What a novelty.”
“We’re wasting time,” I snap, looking at Curtis. “Do we have a plan here, or are we going in alone?”
“We do this together.” The uber soldier extends a hand in my direction. “I’m Erik Volk.”
To my surprise, Corbus says something to him in an unfamiliar language and Volk’s posture relaxes as they chat for a moment. “He is the Count of Rosenborg,” Corbus informs me. “We are distantly related, through my father’s Danish line.”
I shake my head, but I suppose having two European royals in the mix isn’t any stranger than two uber alphas.
“We already have a man inside,” Volk tells us, taking an iPad from one of his men and pulling up the warehouse schematics.
“The auction doesn’t start for another half hour, but the buyers are all in place.
They’re congregated on the third floor, and the omegas are being held in a locker room on the second.
He hasn’t been able to confirm that your mate is there, but he’s asked for a pre-auction viewing. ”
To check the merchandise over and maybe put in an early bid.
“We clear out the first floor,” he goes on, tracking his planned route across the blueprint with a finger, “and hopefully we’re there in time to extract the omegas from the second.
If not, our inside man will neutralize those in range, and we split into two groups – those who get the omegas to safety, and those who deal with any resistance.
” He swipes to show a headshot of a good-looking man in a tux.
“This is Declan, our contact, so don’t fucking shoot him. ”
“King and Brennan are ours.”
I expect Patrick to protest about that, but he just shrugs. “I’ve got my eye on a couple of cockroaches posing as buyers, but if you need help with Brennan, I’m your man.”
I don’t plan on needing help with anything, but we shake hands, the security guys passing out tactical vests and handguns. My fingers twitch to fit Lachlan into his, but he gives me a confident nod. “I’ve got this, Alpha.”
“I know you do.” Not that I intend on him getting anywhere near harm’s way. “Stick close, no matter what.”
He grins and straps up his vest. “Like Velcro.”
Breaching the actual warehouse is a lot easier than I expected.
Our combined security forces take out the guards on the perimeter and front door with minimal fuss.
Once inside, they quickly sweep across the first floor, securing all exits.
In the dim lighting, it looks like your typical criminal enterprise, with a dozen luxury vehicles in different stages of divestiture.
I’m annoyed to realize there’s only one access point to the second floor, and we’re forced to mount the metal staircase in single file.
I clamp down on the urge to push past our cautious escort, my temper fraying further when we get to the landing and realize the omegas have already been moved.
We’re about to head upstairs when one of Volk’s men comes out of a bedroom with Corbus’ scarf in hand. His eyes darken, Lachlan’s breath catching in his throat. “She’s here,” he hisses, staring up at me with fear etched into his face. “Do you think we’re too late?”
I open my mouth to reassure him when there’s a loud clatter from back down the hall.
Curtis and his guys lead us through a rank bathroom to a bank of lockers, the stench of terrified omegas thick in the air.
Volk has a lanky beta up against the wall, his arm twisted at an awkward angle against the back of his biker jacket.
“They moved them upstairs,” Volk says, his face grim.
“It was this asshole’s job to keep them drugged up and subdued. ”
“Is this omega among them?” Corbus asks the beta, stepping forward with a picture of Kate on his phone. “Is she hurt? Did you drug her?”
The biker squints through a rapidly swelling eye. “I don’t look at them, man. I just make sure they’re not freaking out.”
Lachlan is moving around the room, his movements jerky and agitated as he circles a small bench. “She was here,” he mutters, crouching down to touch the wooden slats. “I can smell her.”
“I can smell her, too.” Not suppressants, but something that burns my nose like scorched syrup. Sweet, but bitter, with enough layers of pain and fear to make the back of my throat clench around a howl.
Corbus looks at me, but I jerk my head at Volk, and he steps back, leaving the biker slumped against the wall.
There’s a wild glint in the asshole’s eye, but a lazy twist to his mouth.
He probably thinks I’m just going to rough him up a bit, maybe pump him for answers.
But we don’t have time for that. Instead, I grab his nape and twist, the bones of his neck snapping under my hand like brittle sticks.
Volk stares at me, his jaw flexing. “Was that really necessary?”
“Our omega is in pain,” I grit out, tossing the biker into the nearest shower stall. “Someone hurt her in here, and he’s lucky all I gave him was a broken neck.”
Volk grunts, but Lachlan makes a forlorn sound behind me.
“It’s worse than that,” he says, eyes wide with shock as he takes a syringe from an open locker. “I think those motherfuckers induced Katie’s heat.”