Page 87 of Omega on Fire

"Joker, how's our tail?" I ask.

"Moses is two minutes behind with the recoveryvehicles. Perimeter's clear. No highway patrol, no civilians."

"Perfect." I shift gears. "Let's do this."

Charlotte reaches over, squeezes my thigh. Our eyes meet for just a moment, and I see everything I need to see—determination, fire, love. My Omega isn't like any other. She wasn't born to submit but to lead, and fuck if I don't love following her into battle.

We close the distance quickly. The trucks are traveling together, one slightly ahead of the other.

"Beaux, take the second truck. I'll handle the first." I pull alongside the lead eighteen-wheeler. "Charlotte?"

She nods, already rolling down her window. "I've got you covered."

The trucker spots us, does a double-take at our blacked-out vehicle. I see the moment recognition hits him, the panic as he reaches for something. Too late.

Charlotte fires twice. The truck's front tire blows, then the second. The massive vehicle lurches, fishtailing dangerously before the driver manages to wrestle it onto the shoulder, metal screeching against guardrail.

Behind us, I hear more gunshots as Beaux handles the second truck. Through the rearview, I see it veering off the road.

"Drivers are making a break for it," Joker announces. "North side of the road, heading into the trees."

"Let them run." I pull our SUV in front of the first truck, blocking escape. "We know who they work for."

We exit in perfect formation, muscle memory from years of missions together. Charlotte moves like liquid darkness beside me, her weapon extended, eyes scanning for threats. Beaux appears from behind, blood splattered across his tactical vest, whistling a tune that sounds eerily like a nursery rhyme.

"Anyone who wants to die tonight, speak now," Beaux calls out cheerfully to the cab of the first truck.

Silence.

"Thought so." He grins.

Charlotte approaches the trailer's rear doors, her jaw set. "Joker, any movement inside?"

"Multiple heat signatures, minimal movement. They're likely restrained."

I move to her side, bolt cutters ready for the padlock. Our eyes meet again, and I see that flicker of hesitation, the one she gets before every rescue. The fear of what we'll find inside. I press my forehead against hers briefly, letting my scent wash over her.

"Together," I murmur.

The lock breaks with a metallic snap. I pull the doors open, and the stench hits us immediately, unwashed bodies, vomit, urine, fecal matter, fear.

Charlotte's flashlight beam cuts through the darkness, illuminating hell.

Omegas. At least twelve of them. Chained to the walls of the trailer, collared like animals. Some appear unconscious, others stare at us with vacant eyes. Two small forms huddled in the corner catch my attention.

"Oh god," Charlotte whispers. "Beaux! We need blankets, water. Now!"

She holsters her weapon and climbs inside, approaching the children slowly. Two girls, no older than twelve, dirty and trembling. Too young to present but already marked for a life of servitude and abuse.

"It's okay," Charlotte says softly, her voice breaking. "We're here to help you. You're safe now."

One of the girls looks up, eyes wide with disbelief. "Are you real?"

Charlotte kneels before her, tears streaming down her face. "Yes, sweetheart, I'm real. And you're free now."

I turn away, emotion threatening to overwhelm me. Through my earpiece, I hear Joker's report fromthe second truck, similar conditions, more adults, one teenager.

Moses arrives with the medical team and transport vehicles. The night becomes organized chaos, treating the most critical, documenting evidence, preparing for transport to our sanctuary facility.

---