Page 139 of Retribution
“Make it one that’s in Minnesota. I have a feeling this cunt has wreaked havoc there since she probably shits where she eats,” I reply.
“Omega’s Haven,” Oliver says absently. “I’ve heard they do good work in Minneapolis.”
“Perfect,” Alesso murmurs. “I took every cent. That comes to fourteen million dollars over four different accounts. I’ll keep looking to see if there are any others that she’s hiding. Ophelia is either an idiot or has a benefactor who’s asleep on the job. This was way too easy.”
“What will you do with it from here? Just deposit it into Omega’s Haven?” I ask. “That would be risky, right?”
“Correct. I’m going to run it through different investment accounts and deposit five hundred thousand dollars every three weeks into Omega’s Haven’s account,” Alesso says. “It’ll be randomized amounts that equal up to that, easing any worry someone will find out where it came from. The trickle won’t alert anyone outside of the organization. Donations happen all the time. Ophelia the cunt deserves it.”
“All that and much more,” I mutter.
“My program found something,” Oliver breathes. “Several cameras caught Isolde being removed from the trunk of a sedan.”
“They did change cars,” Alesso mutters. “Merde.”
“They did. Look.” Oliver twists the screen so that we can both watch. One of the betas that kidnapped her is wearing a baseball cap, glasses, and a wig as he walks with her dangling over his shoulder. The camera easily captures her face even in this position because her hair is back in a braid and the blood she was dragged through has stiffened it.
We basically just got very lucky, and I thank every deity in the world for that.
“See, they’re at an airport,” Oliver says, pointing out the concrete that shows they’re on a tarmac and then the plane. “They’re transporting her somewhere else.”
“When was this?” I ask. “Is this live?”
“No. That’s the drawback on this?—”
“I don’t care, Oliver,” I say, my hand slicing through the air. “You found her and that’s what matters. Even a glimpse is more than we had before. I just need to knowwhenthis was.”
“Twenty minutes ago,” he says. “I’m going to find the flight plan that they had to file with air traffic control. I doubt they had the clout to skip it.”
Oliver downloads the video to his computer and then watches it again as he pulls the screen back to himself so he can continue to work.
“There are other men with them,” he murmurs. “God, are they hitching a ride on someone else’s ride?”
“Very scandalous,” Alesso grunts, rolling his eyes. “Oli, focus please.”
“It’s just so gauche,” Oliver says, shrugging. “They’re all wearing suits except for the beta punks, and you can see that one of them is sneering at the one carrying Isolde. Fuckers just held their limp dicks in their hands and let this happen.”
“Find the manifest while you’re at it and Alesso can hit them where it hurts: their wallet,” I suggest.
Oli smirks cruelly and bobs his head.
“Now we’re talking. Anyone willing to stand witness to our girl’s kidnapping and not help her is also going down,” he agrees. “Speaking of which: these assholes got into the Reid building somehow, right? I’ve been looking for other angles to try to capture the person’s face but I haven’t been able to.”
“The door was in the way,” I say. “All I can see is that someone swung it open when they knocked. Nothing more. They were careful. It could have been security or someone else.”
“Lucas isn’t safe there either until you find out who it was,” Alesso says, shaking his head. “If they’re willing to break protocol for head hunters, odds are that they'll be desperate enough to hurt him in other ways.”
“Feels like I’ve been stabbed in the chest as it is,” I sigh. “I failed her. I fucking want to respect her autonomy and I didn’t tag her ass with a tracker.”
“We’ll fix that as soon as we have her back. Our pack bonding experience will be all of us getting trackers,” Oliver snorts. “We will get her back, Grant. Our girl is tough.”
She is, but at what cost?
Isolde
I wake up to what feels like freezing needles all over my skin.
“Ahh!” I scream, rolling on the cold cement floor to attempt to hide from it. My hands are tied again behind my back, but my legs are free as I try to push myself away from the water.
