Page 34 of Dodging Bullets

Max

Some days seemed like perfect snapshots of the future, and seeing August and Polly together had sparked something in my chest that refused to be doused. I wouldn’t interfere, but I had a feeling our sweet little Omega wanted a big, brawny Omega of her own, and I was here for it. I hadn’t thought our Pack would ever get this lucky, yet here we were, on the cusp of our Omega’s heat.

I wanted to do more. I wanted everything to be settled, with the Homestead, with our Pack. I wanted her happiness more than I’d wanted anything in a long time. Except the return of Llew as the man I’d fallen in love with. And this beautiful woman had given me that gift too.

There was literally nothing I wouldn’t do for her now.

Including deep diving into the dark web to find and punish the people who’d treated her like a dog to be kicked around on their puppy farm from Hell. I would find them, and I would make sure her “Leaders” wished they’d never been born, that they’d wish they’d never thought of something as horrendous as the Homestead.

I’d stood close by yesterday while she talked with August, listening as they unraveled themselves piece by piece, and usingmy training to sort through what could be important in my search for the Homestead. I hadn’t been allowed to interrogate Anthony Smalls, the Alpha who’d bought her, as he awaited trial.

Although Rio and I would be waiting for him as soon as he got out of jail.There wouldn’t be a dark corner that fucker could hide in where we wouldn’t provide the most painful retribution that US military training could provide.

It wasn’t fast enough, though. The stories that Polly just casually dropped, of indentured servitude and child marriage and all sorts of other atrocities—stories which she didn’t even realize were terrible—told me everything I needed to know about The Homestead and its founders. The way she talked about the girl she was friends with, Nimah, who was still there in that shithole, scrubbing floors and barely eating. I wanted to save her, save them all, for Polly.

None of my searches for the Homestead had brought up any results. Nor did any of the names of her gods or goddesses, or Leader Malakai, or the other Leader names, which was understandable. An organisation that was off-grid to this extent wasn’t going to have a digital footprint. But we lived in a digital world, so there had to be something somewhere that would give me a hint.

I wrote some script to search through the web. They had to have dealt with Anthony Smalls somehow, so no matter how off-grid they were, they either had to have a wifi connection or an intermediary on the outside to negotiate with third parties.

Also, selling Omegas wasn’t something you could just do casually, like selling cookies in a grocery store parking lot. I’d have to scan some of the more unsavory places on the web for mentions of people selling or wanting to buy Omegas.

The more I thought about it, the more I was sure that they had to have connections on the outside. Polly had been unable to use our television, but had known that the coffee machineworked with little pods, although she’d never used it. It was only for the Leaders. They obviously had electricity, and I very much doubted they were growing and roasting their own coffee beans.

It was very hard for a community that large to be completely self-sufficient. Someone was doing resource drops, probably under the cover of darkness. Someone knew, and I’d find them.

I also thought about what Polly had said, about the lack of Alphas being born into the community. There was something wrong with that. Growing up, there’d been six kids who’d designated Alpha in my elementary class. The population divide was pretty split; although most were Betas, there were very few Omegas, but there were more than enough Alphas.

Some should have been born in the Homestead. Where were all the young Alphas going?

I called up a friend who might not play on the legal side of the road, but he jaywalked between pretty frequently. He’d been dishonorably discharged from my unit for giving himself leave approval and getting caught. Toledo was not wise, but he sure was smart.

Pressing his number in my phone, I waited for it to ring out and for him to call me back. He never answered his phone.

Sure enough, it rang back within fifteen seconds of the call ending. “Max. How are you?”

Toledo wasn’t his real name. His real name was apparently John Smith, but given what he could do, I highly doubted that was real either. It had been a good enough alias to get him into the army, though, and I didn’t think he was a spy, so we all called him Toledo and let it go.

“Good, my friend. I was just wondering if I could call in that favor.”

There was silence at the other end of the line, so I knew he’d heard me. There was a slight squeak and the clack of computer keys. “Okay, what do you want me to find?”

I snorted a laugh. “How do you know I didn’t want you to babysit my house or something?”

I could almost see him rolling his eyes. “I’d be the last person you’d give unfettered access to your house, and we both know it. Besides, it’s not every day a friend busts an animal cruelty ring and releases the data and video to national news networks. I assume you need something to do with that.”

Frowning, I opened my own laptop. “How’d you know it was me?”

I could almost imagine his shrug. “Digital fingerprints. Plus, I know the sound of your voice and the small freckle you have at the base of your left thumb that appears in the video provided to the news outlets.”

They really should have kept Toledo in the military. He’d have been scary on the wrong side. “That’s creepy.”

He snorted derisively. “It’s why I get paid the big bucks.” I didn’t want to think about who paid Toledo now. He might make dumb decisions, and he might be super smart, but he’d always had a very black-and-white moral compass. Civilians were off limits, but step one foot over that line he’d drawn in the sand, and you were fair game.

“That animal cruelty bust from the other day? Turns out that animals weren’t the only thing they were intent on selling.” I said it matter-of-factly, like the very idea of Polly ending up in the hands of someone who’dbuyan Omega didn’t make me sick to my stomach.

“Prostitution?” he asked lightly, though I could hear the note of disgust in his voice.

“Omega trafficking.”

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