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I sigh, knowing my nagging is doing nothing to help. “Sorry, man.”
Our eyes connect briefly, and he gives me a short nod before going back to staring out the front windshield. I return my own focus to the road, knowing I need to concentrate. It’s dark as hell out here, and even my headlights seem to be sucked up by the heavy shadows of the trees pressing in on all sides. It’s hard not to feel a little spooked. Between the oppressive darkness outside and the thick tension inside the car, it’s no wonder I’m on edge.
Deep breaths, I remind myself.This is just another mission. Stay focused and execute the task.
I risk another quick glance at Leo, taking in his rigid posture and white knuckles from where he’s gripping his seat too hard. “You don’t know what we’re walking into,” I remind him softly.
Honestly, the words aren’t as comforting as I want them to be, even to my own ears.
While my intention was to talk him off the cliff of worst-case scenarios, saying it out loud forms a stark reminder that this is an unauthorized, minimally planned mission I’m undertaking with a civilian. An emotionally compromised civilian.
Leo came to me two days ago, uncharacteristically serious. I’ve only known my packmate for a little over a year, having met him and his buddy coincidentally at one of the giant mixers our university throws every quarter. I was technically working security that night, but on a break, I saw him and Tanner trying to work up the nerve to approach a group of girls. I sidled up to give them shit and offer my own unsolicited advice. They both struck out—pretty brutally in Tanner’s case—but I kept finding them during my breaks, and by the time the evening was over we were exchanging numbers and planning a night out the following evening to help them over their bruised egos.
They were both freshmen at the time while I was a junior, and it didn’t take us long to fall into a loose pack structure. Not all betas opt for the pack dynamic these days, but Tanner and I being alphas, it was natural for our friendship to turn into more, and Leo was more than happy to come along for the ride.
I sometimes wonder how packs have stuck around with the emergence of omega rights and greater equality across all of society’s designations. In the past, alphas had to band together to compete for their most precious resource: an omega. Omegas used to not have a say; they’d be hunted and claimed by whichever alpha pack was the strongest and best able to protect their prize. There have always been many fewer omegas than alphas, and in history class we learned how omegas were often kidnapped by feuding packs. As both a limited resource and a spoils of war, omegas served as both the impetus for war as well as the prize. As society evolved, the government eventually stepped in, attempting to make the claiming of omegas a more civilized process, but that only extended as far as substituting bloodshed for blood money. Soon, omegas were put up for sale like any other commodity the government had control over.
That, thankfully, came to an end nearly ninety years ago. Things didn’t change overnight, of course, but I’d like to think we’ve come a long way.
Not all of us, I remind myself, chancing another quick glance over at Leo.
That’s why we’re here after all. Out in the middle of nowheresville at 1:48 in the morning.
Two days ago, Leo came to me on edge, saying he needed to make a trip home and asking if I’d come with him. The guy doesn’t talk much about his family, and I always assumed it was a bit of a sore spot for him. When I pressed him on why he needed to make the trip, he told me he was covering extremist groups in one of his pre-law classes, and earlier that day his professor had taught him about some group called “Betas for Order and Submission.” He admitted his father was a member—at least he was at the time Leo left for college. He’d always found the members creepy and the teachings, in his words, backward horseshit, but he’d never actually thought of them as dangerous.
Now, though, after hearing his professor describe the group as one of several regional extremist groups that were tipping over into domestic terrorism, he felt differently.
I’ll admit I was more than a little angry when he confessed he had a younger sister at home, an omega, whom he hadn’t laid eyes on in two years. He said he’d get texts from her occasionally but hadn’t spoken to her directly since he left. Hearing about how BFOS preached the role of omegas as subservient, objects to be possessed by alphas, he’d started to panic. Her last message was from months ago and indicated she was forgoing a university degree in favor of getting a job locally while she looked for a mate. While it is true that some omegas—even some betas—opt to find a pack and settle down immediately after high school, it certainly isn’t the norm these days.
Leo insisted this wasn’t like his sister and begged me to make the trip back to his hometown to check things out. Looking back through his text thread with her, I saw more than enough red flags to have me concerned. Her messages sounded nothing like the girl Leo described. After losing my temper for a few minutes and tearing him a new one, we kicked into gear and put together a plan.
Luckily, this kind of thing is my literal job. I’m not pursuing a standard degree, opting for special ops training after my freshmen year. I was always more of a hands-on guy, and with River Valley being home to both a university and a military base, there are several joint programs on offer. I’m in my fifth year, one more to go before I’ll officially be a graduate and eligible to join a tactical team full-time. I’ve been on a few low-risk field missions before, but more and more, this situation feels nothing like those.
It’s entirely possible we’ll get to Leo’s childhood home and find nothing but an angry father-daughter pair annoyed at being woken in the middle of the night, pissed their son slash brother was so judgmental of their harmless life choices that he felt the need to make a surprise visit at 2 a.m. On the other hand ...
“Make a left up here,” Leo says, pointing to a small break in the trees ahead of us. “It’s just up that road, maybe another five minutes.”
“Plan?” I demand. To his credit, Leo doesn’t make a fuss despite this being at least the fifth time I’ve made him recount it on this drive alone.
“Kill the headlights before we reach the first of the neighbors, come in slow and silently. Together we assess the property visually, from the car. If it looks clear, you go in for closer reconnaissance while I remain in the car—”
“With the doors locked,” I interrupt.
“With the doors locked,” he continues, giving me a small look of annoyance this time. “You’ll evaluate next steps based on your assessment. I’ll remain in the car with the doors locked. You may decide to access the premises to gather more information or decide it’s safe to make contact. Either way, I’ll remain in the car with the doors locked. You’ll ensure you’re able to conduct a visual evaluation of Espy as well as speak to her. I’ll remain in the car with the doors locked.”
I give him a smile that he begrudgingly returns. Good to know he’s finally embraced the need to stay away from the “scene,” so to speak. He isn’t trained, and although this is his home and his family I can’t have him walking into a potentially dangerous situation, compromising his safety and the safety of the inhabitants. It might seem like overkill, but I take my training seriously and know how quickly things can go wrong.
“I’ll have my radio on me. If there’s an emergency, just hit the yellow button on yours and mine will vibrate. Otherwise, wait for me to contact you.”
He nods as I make the turn off the main road. I slow down and dim my lights, turning them off completely when he wordlessly points to the first of his neighbors’ houses. It’s slow going from there, the moon barely showing through the clouds. The road at least is fairly well-maintained. It’s definitely remote out here, but more in an “I can afford not to deal with other people” kind of way.
“It’s the next one down,” Leo whispers, and I slow down to practically a crawl.
The house itself is set back about thirty feet from the road. As I come to a stop, I see there’s a front porch light on, but otherwise the house and large yard appear dark. It takes my eyes a few seconds to make out objects in the gloom, but as soon as they adjust, I suck in a harsh breath. A high-tech electronic security fence spans the front of the property, cutting off access to the driveway and walkway. I see a familiar set of electronic receivers mounted in the nearest trees, telling me the whole place is wired with cameras and, most likely, an alarm system. It’s not until my eyes scan past the outer security system that I feel my body freeze and my blood goes cold.
“Leo, do y’all have a dog?” I ask, dreading the answer but somehow already knowing what it will be.
“You’ve got to get my sister out of there, Linc.” His voice is steely with anger and resolve. “Get her the fuck out of there—right now.”
