Page 32 of Jace

“I’ve also got your omega,” Art said. “And trust me when I say you’re gonna have an agent in your bar no matter what, so you’re better off having me there.”

“How about no agents in my fucking bar,” I snapped. “That’s my preference.”

“Not gonna happen.” The prick laughed, but it had a bitter sound. “I got into this side of things thinking I could make a difference.” A harsh sound at that. “The only difference Alpha Control wants is in our name—control of you, of all of you. Using you for high kill missions, doping you up on performance drugs, finding a way to fit you into the beta machine, but that’s not a conversation for now. You want the omega. I can cut the alarm, send the police on their way with a call, and get her out to you, no mess, no fuss. The orderlies here are kicking themselves for bringing her anyway, so if she slips out the door…”

My mind was whirling at a thousand miles an hour, trying to work out what the prick’s angle was, why he wanted to give me my omega back. What he said about Alpha Control, that was no great shock, but him…? “Name your fucking price.”

“I’m going to need my old job back again.”

“Done,” I said without the slightest hesitation.

“Is that Jace?” another voice said, more distant, one that nearly took me to my fucking knees.

“Jace!” Dane tried to cut me off as I walked straight out into the street. “Fuck,” he muttered when I just brushed past him. With more cursing, I heard Ryder, Dane, and the rest of my men falling into step.

“I’m coming to get you,” I said. I didn’t know if she could hear me. She was here, near, so fucking close, and I’d take down every fucking person here if I needed to get to her. “Tell me where I need to go.”

“Where are you?” That was Art again.

“I’m about to walk in the front,” I said.

The alarm was still blazing, and if anyone was evacuating, it wasn’t out the main entrance. There were cops outside, the real ones, with badges and guns. Two cop cars were parked diagonally with the uniformed plebs standing around, making like they were doing important cop things.

We had the badges and guns too, but they wouldn’t stand up to a close inspection. Our police logo vests were legitimate—it paid to have the right friends.

There was only one rule to infiltration like this, and that was to walk in like you had every right to be there. Show hesitation or weakness, move with anything but purpose, and you might as well throw up a red flag. It helped that the Beta Zone also had several teams of turncoat bastard alphas who they called on for particularly messy jobs…which this wasn’t, but I was still going to walk right the fuck in like I owned the damn place.

One beta cop made the mistake of moving like he was going to step in my path. I just walked right into him, shoulder checking him and sending the arsehole reeling. I’d seen the real Alpha Control in action, and my behaviour was on point. Right on cue, the cops turned around and got back in their cars, obviously thinking we had shit covered.

“Step aside, milksop,” Dane said.

Ryder’s chuckle was gold and added to the image of badass motherfucker cops with a mile wide chip on their shoulders.

Sloane

If I were still a beta, I’d have had questions, so many questions. What the hell were the men in the Dawn Agency going to do with me? Why was this barman here and helping me? But I wasn’t a beta anymore, I was an omega—one who’d found her alpha.

The alarm ceased abruptly, and the absence of sound was replaced by a ringing in my head. My shoulders slumped, releasing a subconscious layer of tension.

“Come on,” said the barman turned orderly guy, who I’d learned was called Art. “That’s our cue.”

“Where are we going?” I asked.

He didn’t answer, just took my hand and half dragged me along the weirdly empty corridor. He stopped at a T-junction, poking his head around the corner, then tugged me after him. Rapid steps took us to the stairwell, where he opened the door, took another quick look, and pulled me in after him. “We need to be fast.”

From above came the sounds of heavy booted feet, and it galvanised me into action. As we burst out the emergency door at the reception level, I come to an abrupt stop. The handle left my nerveless fingers and shut with a clatter.

There were people here, cops, orderlies, and others in regular clothes. I barely paid them any mind as I watched three men approach, but I only had eyes for one. Even with that blacked out visor, I knew instantly who it was. Had he always been so freaking massive, a picture of masculine strength? Huge biceps flexing under his thin shirt, thick thighs stuffed into his jeans, he prowled closer like a goddamn panther, and when he got close, he growled like one.

“Omega…”

Just a warning, that was all I got as he towered over me, exuding those dizzying alpha pheromones. I felt the occupants of the reception turn toward him, drawn like I was.

“Sloane.”

The helmet came off, passed to someone with him. My eyes flicked up, meeting his, my already rubbery knees giving out when his gaze sliced into me. He hadn’t even touched me, said little other than my name, but I was being completely and utterly owned. His fingers twitched, like he wanted to reach out and grab me as I wavered, a small whine escaping my lips at the thought. His arm wrapped around my waist, dragging me in close.

“Sloane, I?—”