Page 20 of Omega on Fire

"We're two minutes out," Teagan responds immediately. "Moving to intercept."

"Not fast enough," I snarl, already heading for thedoor. "Quincy, hold this position. Keep our eyes in the sky."

"Motley, stick to the plan," Teagan orders. "We need you on the controls."

"Fuck the plan," I growl, checking my weapons. "She's alone and about to run into three armed assholes. I'm moving."

"Negative, Motley," Deacon chimes in. "We're closer. Stay on the controls. Malcolm and I will get to her."

I ignore him. I won't feel right until I have her in my arms, until I can smell her scent and know she's real. Until I can take her somewhere safe and make her understand that she belongs with us—with me.

Nothing else matters. Not the mission, not protocol, not even Teagan's commands. I won't be calm until Charlotte is safe.

"I'm coming for you, Little Harlequin," I whisper as I slip out into the darkened corridor. "Just hold on."

DEACON

Malcolm and I have been methodically clearing cells for the past ten minutes, finding Omegas in various states of distress. My heart clenches at each new face—some with blank stares, others sobbing,all of them showing signs of the hell they've endured.

"You're safe now," I tell a young woman who's curled in the corner of her cell. She can't be more than twenty. She cringes when I reach out my hand. "We're here to help. Can you walk?"

Her eyes, wide and disbelieving, dart between my face and the open door. When she finally nods, I step back to give her space, watching as she shakily rises to her feet.

"Join the others in the main corridor," Malcolm says gently from behind me. "We have medical support coming."

My comm crackles. "I think I've got movement in corridor C," Quincy's voice reports. "Female, moving fast."

I continue down the hallway, my rifle ready as Joker confirms it's Charlotte. My pulse quickens at the name. We've studied her file extensively, her advocacy work, her speeches, the difference she's made for Omega rights. Even before this mission I'd felt a pull toward her that I couldn't explain.

Quincy’s voice comes over the comms, warning that Charlotte is heading toward a checkpoint. I glance at my position on the digital map Joker uploaded to our devices and respond, relaying ourposition as closest to her, only to hear Motley announce that he’s going to intercept and he’s refusing to stay put. Typical Motley.

I turn to Malcolm, gesturing at the remaining cells. "We've got at least thirty Omegas here, possibly more. They're in bad shape, dehydrated, drugged, traumatized."

Malcolm nods grimly, his dark eyes scanning the huddled forms of the Omegas we've already freed. They cling to each other in the dim emergency lighting, whimpering at every distant gunshot or shout.

"Joker," I say into my comm, "we need the extraction team now. There are too many Omegas for us to move alone, and most can barely walk. We need medical support and transport immediately."

"Roger that," Joker responds, all business now. "Extraction team is green-lit. ETA three minutes to your position."

Malcolm steps forward, addressing the frightened group. "More help is coming," he assures them, his deep voice steady and calming. "You're safe now. No one will hurt you again. We'll get you home."

I watch as his words wash over them, some of the tension visibly leaving their bodies. It's a gift Malcolm has, the ability to project safety, to makepeople believe everything will be okay. Right now, I'm grateful for it.

"I'll check the remaining cells," he says to me. "You go for Charlotte."

I nod, already turning toward corridor C when a curse from Malcolm stops me.

"Fuck! Deacon, come here."

The tone in his voice makes my blood run cold. I double back, peering into the cell he's illuminating with his flashlight. The smell hits me first—decay, death, unmistakable even under the antiseptic reek of the facility.

A body lies on a metal cot, skin gray and waxy, lips blue. An Omega, female, can’t be more than twenty-five. No visible wounds, but needle marks on her arms tell enough of the story.

"They just left her here," Malcolm whispers, rage and disgust mingling in his voice.

I close my eyes briefly, offering a silent prayer, something I haven't done since I left my parents' house at eighteen. "Tag the room for evidence collection. The authorities will need to identify her and notify family."

"Deacon," Joker's voice cuts in urgently. "Charlotte's avoided the checkpoint, but she's doubling backtoward your position. She's, wait, what the hell? She's heading straight for the cell blocks."

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