Page 71 of Run Omega Run
Susie sat on the blanket Dante had draped around her shoulders, knees drawn close, eyes wide but no longer frantic. Her chest rose and fell unevenly, each breath a mixture of exhaustion, relief, and residual terror.
I knelt beside her, hands hovering for a moment, uncertain if my presence alone would reassure or startle. “It’s over,” I said softly, letting my voice carry calm certainty. “You’re safe.”
Her lips trembled slightly, and she bit the inside of her cheek, inhaling shakily. “I... I didn’t think anyone would come,” she whispered. My stomach flipped at the raw honesty in her voice, every syllable carrying hours of terror.
I reached out, brushing a strand of matted hair from her face, careful to avoid the dried blood on her scalp. Her eyes followed my movements, pupils dilated, lashes wet. She flinched at my touch, and my chest tightened. I swallowed hard, letting the warmth in my chest radiate outward, hoping it would anchor her. “We came for you. I promised family, and family doesn’t leave each other behind.”
Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. She was still wary, still processing, still afraid... but she was alive, and that was all that mattered. I offered a small, steadying smile, letting her know without words that her fear was seen and that it didn’t have to control her anymore.
She leaned into my side, eyes closing just for a micro-second, testing if the safety I promised could exist. I let her, wrapping my arm around her shoulders, keeping the motion deliberate, unhurried, giving her space while asserting the stability she craved. Her scent started to return to lemon, tinged with relief, and I felt a warmth bloom in my chest, a fatherly warmth, tempered by lingering adrenaline and the knowledge of what she had endured.
We sat like that for a while, wordless but connected, giving her time to process everything that had happened to her. Then finally, her trembling eased, small breaths evened out, eyes softened, and her shoulders relaxed fractionally. I could feel every small flinch, every subtle shiver, and I let it pass, offering silent protection with my presence, letting her know that no monster would breach this circle.
“Family,” she whispered, almost to herself. I nodded, squeezing her hand gently, letting my lips curl at the corners in a soft smile.
“Yes,” I said, voice low, steady. “Family.”
The warehouse remained dark around us, cold concrete pressing at our backs, but in that moment, a fragile warmthbloomed. Trust. She began to trust us. My chest felt warm and alive, and I silently promised that I would protect her for as long as I lived.
Bennett walked over to us. I smiled and stood up, helping Susie up and wrapping a blanket around her shoulders. "Take them home," I told Bennett as he helped support one of the younger girls who seemed barely able to walk unassisted. “And get them medical attention.”
He nodded, understanding without further explanation what needed to happen next. “I’ll make sure they know they’re safe now.” The rescued girls required immediate evacuation while Angus and I attended to the detailed cleanup work that would ensure no evidence remained to connect us to this location or these deaths.
Dante leaned closer, murmuring, “We’ll get them home. Safe. They’ll recover. And we’ll share the home. Together.” His chocolate scent, and the faint warmth radiating from him, grounded me, reminding me that we weren’t alone in carrying the burden.
I knew he was right. As soon as Heather saw these poor orphaned girls, she’d take them in and protect them like her own. I looked at Bennett as he helped the last girl from the room. “We’re going to need to build an even bigger house!”
He smiled and nodded, then left us to clean up.
I swallowed hard, feeling a lump in my throat, stomach tight as I tried to reconcile what we had done with what we had witnessed. These girls, these six young lives, had survived because we had acted, because we were willing to put ourselves between them and monsters. But the images, smells, and sounds... they lingered, curling in the corners of my mind like smoke refusing to dissipate. I could feel it in every heartbeat, every breath: the responsibility wasn’t over. Not really.
Running a hand over my face, I brushed my hair back, jaw aching from clenching. I inhaled sharply, attempting to empty my mind, but flashes returned: Susie’s wide, tear-filled eyes, the way her red hair stuck to blood on her scalp, the subtle micro-tremor of the youngest girl’s fingers as she reached for freedom. My stomach flipped violently at the memory, bile threatening again, and I clenched my fists, forcing control over the tremor.
Once they were gone, Angus and I began the grim work of erasing traces of the horror. We found containers of acid in the warehouse, which I was happy about, but also disturbed about. Adding the bodies in, I watched as they slowly dissolved, breaking down muscle and bone. Blood scrubbed, concrete sanitized. My heart pounded, and my body ached. Memories of the Omegas and their terrified eyes lingered like a weight in my chest. I swallowed hard, steadying myself, letting warmth and pride mix with residual tension.
Angus assisted with the kind of grim efficiency that suggested this wasn't his first experience with evidence disposal, though he lacked my technical knowledge of the chemical processes involved. His role was more practical, with moving bodies, scrubbing blood patterns from concrete surfaces, and ensuring that every trace of violence was eliminated before we departed.
The work took a good three hours of meticulous attention to detail, but when we finished, the warehouse room looked exactly as it had before we'd entered. No bodies, no blood, no physical evidence that could connect us to the deaths that had occurred here. The cages remained, and the two dead girls, but they would be found soon; an anonymous tip would lead the authorities right to their door.
I stood in the center of the empty room, surveying our work with the professional satisfaction that came from a job completed to exacting standards.
The acid we'd used would continue its work long after we'd departed, ensuring that any trace evidence would be eliminated. By tomorrow morning, even advanced forensic analysis would find nothing more than industrial residues that could have accumulated through legitimate warehouse operations.
Outside, dawn painted the sky with colors that promised a new day for six young women who'd expected to die in darkness. They were safe now, protected by people who understood that some problems required permanent solutions and possessed both the skill and determination to deliver them.
Our family was whole again, and the men who'd threatened them would never threaten anyone else.
