Page 66 of Wild Omega

I blanch. “All from one? But didn’t you say there were hundreds of vials?”

She nods sadly. “I thought I already forwarded the forensics statement to you. I’ll do it now.”

A shudder trickles down my spine as I think of the sheer volume of abuse in that damned place. My brain ticks over enough for me to process everything Avery said. “Wait. More omegas were rescued, but we don’t have their statements? Why not?”

She shrugs. “Not sure. I’ll get you the omega center’s details and you can check with them.” She drags her finger across her screen a few times and my phone vibrates in my pocket. “The only one I can see missing goes by the designation O-11.”

I unlock my phone. Even the name sounds inhumane. And if the pieces fit together, it means that one omega’s been drained of every drop of haze she’s ever produced. The most I’ve ever heard of an omega producing haze under ethical conditions is ten vials per heat.

I need to find the evidence and put these fuckers behind bars, so they can never destroy lives again.

“Thanks, Avery.” I save the new contact info and dial the number as the paralegal leaves.

The line clicks on. “Laversham Omega Center, you’re speaking with Noelene.”

“Hi.” I introduce myself, and provide my barrister license number, before explaining my call. “I need a statement from an omega known as O-11 since we’re missing it.”

Silence hangs heavily in the line as I finish my request. “Still there?” I ask, thinking maybe the call dropped out.

“Yes. Unfortunately we’re unable to provide a statement from O-11 as she’s disappeared.”

My stomach swoops. “Disappeared? How’s that possible?”

“We’d like to know that too. Leave me your number, and if we find her, we’ll try to get the statement you need. Although, I should warn you, she initially declined to speak about her ordeal.”

As I hang up, it strikes me that the runaway omega must have a good reason not to trust centers. It’d take guts and a lot of resourcefulness to give the Omega Center the slip. I mean, their security is top-notch. To escape, you’d have to have a lot of experience, surely. Perhaps she’s the one the haze belongs to.

I flop back in my chair with a sigh and my gaze falls on the vial of haze. A strange longing to uncap the bottle and fill my senses with that beautiful aroma floods through me, stirring my cock. I reach for the evidence bag and stroke my fingers along the plastic.

At the same time, I wonder what Ricky’s doing with Red. I can probably guess, seeing their first encounter sent him into rut. Would his cute, polished look come undone when he’s fucking? I bet his reserve evaporates, especially with a woman like Red in his grip. She’s the kind of omega who’d give any alpha wet dreams. Heat floods through my cock and it pressures my pants, just to make my point.

The phone vibrates in my other hand, shocking a violent twitch out of me. The bag slips from my fingers. I snatch for it but miss, and the package lands on the desk with a smothered crack.

“Shit!” I hiss, juggling bag and phone. “Hello?”

“Callisto, it’s Simon. Just wanted to let you know, your mother’s in the hospital.”

I clamp my lips together as a flood of annoyance washes through me. He’s not referring to the kind of hospital where people go for surgery and stitches, but rather the shrink on standby and plenty of sedative kind.

I rub my forehead. “Thanks for letting me know, Simon. What set her off?” A clinical, unfeeling question, really, but I can’t help myself.

“I’m not sure exactly what started it, but she was agitated this morning and then she backed the car into the garden bed.”

“Didn’t she have a driver?” I snap. “Or one of you?” If she wasn’t feeling well, why get behind the wheel at all?

I shouldn’t be this way, but can’t she just get better? It’s been years since Dad died and she’s done boatloads of therapy. I mean, is anxiety even an actual condition worthy of hospitalization? It’s only blown up in the last decade or two like some kind of fad. Can make good grounds for a defense case, though, when needed.

Simon gets a waspish tone in his voice. “I don’t think that’s the real issue here. She could’ve called a driver, but she was in a hurry for something.” He’s not my biggest fan.

I grit my teeth to hold back a sigh. “Okay. Thanks for letting me know. Are they allowing visitors?”

“Lector’s in with the doctors now. I’ll know more when he gets out.”

I trace the outline of my leather laptop case. “Could you send me a text when they’re allowing visitation?”

“Sure. I’ll get going now.”

While I’m deliberating on what to say as a goodbye, he hangs up the line. I drop my phone on the table. “Great fucking timing, Mom. Did it have to be in the middle of these cases?”

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