Page 166 of Sawyer

A knock on the window prevents me from replying. I hold up a finger to Sin and roll down the window.

“Sir, everyone is in place. We are just waiting on you.” He nods to me and hands me a walkie-talkie before stepping back.

“I’m sure,” I answer Sin as Bryn climbs back in.

“She’s good.” He swings the car around. “Let’s do this.”

“She’s going to be pissed,” Sin says. “Maybe not that angry. This will piss her off if she doesn’t get the story. I caught her journaling this morning, and yes, I peeked when she went to shower. It was the start of an article. Guys, she is writing again.”

Relief causes my shoulders to sag, and I let my eyes close for a moment. “That’s incredible.”

“It is, and damn, it was good.”

“What was the headline?” Bryn questions as we drive toward our destination.

“Oh, it’s good. Damn good,” Sin teases us. “A Broken History: Pieces of Designations.”

“Shit. That’s good.” It’s intriguing and thought provoking. “I can’t wait to read it.”

“Well, we have one more loose end to tie up.” Bryn parks the car and climbs out.

Sin and I follow. From here, I can see the snipers in the locations we chose, the deltas lined up along the side of the building, and those set up a couple blocks away just in case.

I grab the walkie-talking and say, “Enter.”

Dozens of deltas enter Bliss in a well-choreographed sweep. They are quiet, and though seen, no one gets in their way.

“You sure they are here?” Sin asks.

I shake my head, fear spiking inside of me. “No.”

“Well, if they are, then it’s one hell of a courting gift,” Sin snarks before slapping me on the back and skipping across the road.

He’s right. The three of us could not come up with any decent courting gift. Sawyer just isn’t the material girl most omegas are. She doesn’t wear earrings or any other jewelry. She loves shoes, but none of us thought that was good enough.

What was good enough? Assuring her safety, and that meant removing those who hurt her one by one. While Superman here might love playing vigilante killer for the monarch, we decided the best course of action was arrest and imprisonment.

As we walk in, we find the place devoid of sound—no pumping bass, no thumping from the dance floor—and even the stripper poles are empty.

The deltas corralled the morning crew into the center of the club. They would have had plenty of time to hit every room. My nerves spike as I enter the hall to the offices. Each empty one feels like a failure, until Sin pops out of an office with two deltas standing across the hall as guards.

“Got her.”

I enter the messy office. The file cabinets are ripped open, and a metal trash can with burning embers gives the entire room the scent of a bonfire.

Stefani, who sits primly and properly on the other side of her desk, draws my attention. “What’s the meaning of this?” she demands.

“Hello again.” I ease into the room, Bryn right behind me. He looks through the room. It’s just her, which is disappointing, but we’ll find him. Of that, I’m sure. “Stefani, you left out a few things when we were here last.”

Sin bounces around the room like a pinball before opening a drawer and muttering, “Jackpot.” He pulls out tape after tape, which must be the recordings from the other rooms.

“I sure hope you have a tape for me.” I stand at her desk, drumming my fingers as Sin tosses one after another onto the desk.

“Where’s my brother?” There’s an arrogance in her voice that screams we won’t find him. Yet. Oh, I will find him, of that, I am sure.

“Funny thing about your brother. You left out the part that he is a mad scientist.”

She shrugs a delicate shoulder. “You should read his medical journals.”

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