Page 88 of Saving the Pack's Omega

But then again, having four armed men bursting in would be pretty scary, especially considering the types of people who run in my brother’s circles and how they probably have less than good intentions.

“What the fuck do you want,” Maverick spits.

“We’re not looking for trouble,” I answer.

“That’s not an answer to the goddamn question.”

“We need your help,” I answer, pulling out a picture of Luna we printed at home. It’s a photo Kane took of her reading in his library. Her golden hair shines in the light and she has a small smile that I’d do anything to see right now. “We need to know whether you know anything about this omega being sold.”

“Why the fuck should I do anything to help you. Especially after all this,” he grunts.

I dig into my other back pocket and pull out a wad of cash, tossing it down onto the table.

“Ten thousand now, fifteen thousand after you have information to give us,” I answer.

He eyes the money before giving a slow nod. “What’s a fancy Northside pack doing looking to buy an omega?”

“We’re not fucking buying her,” Kane growls from behind me.

“Hey, you asked me about what I know about an omega being sold, what else am I supposed to think?” Maverick bites back.

“She’s in custody now, over on the Northside,” I explain. “We just want to figure out more about what happened to her.”

He nods slowly as if he’s thinking. “This may open up a can of worms you guys aren’t prepared for. But I’ll look. We don’t work in human trafficking but there’re definitely a shit ton of people that do.”

“Great. You can message me when you have something.” I reach into my pocket and pull out my business card, flicking it onto the table beside the wad of cash. “Sorry about coming in here unannounced. It won’t happen again.”

“It better not,” he grunts.

“Four of your guys are knocked out right now, you should probably check on them,” I say before turning and nodding at the others to follow me.

CHAPTER 26

Luna

Ican’t stop crying.

I can’t stop shaking either. I don’t know whether that’s because of the crying or because of the cold.

I haven’t had very many medical experiences, considering my parents never brought me to the doctor, but whatever just happened was the single worst experience I think I’ll ever have.

I try to shove away the memories of how violated I felt, my legs in these weird stirrups as the doctor ran a bunch of invasive tests he said were essential to his examination.

But it’s hard, considering I’m still in the same, stupid paper gown he insisted I change into.

I wasn’t given my clothes back before that omega from the front desk brought me to this room.

It would be nice, compared to the standards I was used to growing up. Compared to my room back at the Ward pack house? It’s hard and sterile.

It’s also freezing. I’m pretty sure Brandy’s friend purposely set the temperature this low on purpose. I’m also pretty sure she didn’t bring me any of my stuff.

The only thing I have is the thin, paper-thin sheet that was left on the bed. There wasn’t even a comforter.

I don’t want to sound spoiled, especially considering I had something similar to this sheet in the cellar I spent my heats in, but still. This is supposed to be a center specialized in taking care of omegas. This can’t be healthy.

I try and wrap the sheet tighter around my shoulders, tucking my legs up against my body as I curl into a ball. I’m hiding behind the bedframe, trying to get away from the viciously cold vent on the ceiling.

This cold seriously has to be on purpose. Who would have the air conditioning set to freezing in the dead of winter?

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