Page 11 of Pack Rivals: Part Two
“I found her bag,” Angel says from the other side of the bed. It’s still made up, the sheets pristine and unmoved. It’s clear they didn’t stay here long. Whoever took our omega and her doctors, they did it soon after she arrived. I peer at my watch. Nearly two fucking hours ago. This isn’t good. Number one rule when it comes to an abduction: the more time passed, the less likely you are to find the victim. Find them and find them alive.
“Her clothes are here too,” Angel says more quietly, holding an oversized t-shirt up to his nose.
“She wasn’t wearing that earlier today,” I say with irritation, wanting to snatch the shirt from his hand and bury my face into it.
“She was wearing it here, asshole. I can tell.”
I grind my teeth, letting the insult slide.
We have to put our animosity to one side – for the time being anyway – if we’re to find our girl. Silver is nearly as good at tracking people down as Connor is. If we can get them to work together – while keeping a lid on Nate and Hardy – we have a chance of bringing her home.
“How the fuck did they get her out with no one seeing?” I mumble, peering up at the ceiling, half expecting to find a ceiling tile missing.
“If the other members of staff were occupied, they may not have noticed.”
I shake my head. “An omega in heat …”
I don’t need to say anything else. The noises she’d be making, the scent she’d be giving off. No one would miss her. Besides which, all those visiting omegas lining up for their contraception shots would have their hackles raised sky-high by the presence of another omega in heat.
“There must be another way out of the room,” Angel mumbles and as he says it, both our eyes land back on the bed and its oversized headboard.
In the next moment, he’s pushing and I’m pulling and we’ve shifted the thing out the way.
There, right behind, sits a door, open, and beyond a flight of stairs.
“Shit!” Angel mutters, racing through the doorway and down the steps.
It’s clear our omega was taken this way; her scent spirals down the never-ending number of steps like a trail of mind-altering breadcrumbs. The effect is freaking dizzying. Twice, I have to halt, gripping the rail and getting my shit together. Angel’s no better.
Then my foot slips in something sticky on the ground and I know for sure it’s the omega’s slick. Glistening like a puddle of ecstasy on the stone steps.
“Shit,” I mutter, forcing myself to move, forcing myself not to turn around, drop to my knees and lick that mess up. “Shit, shit. Shit!”
Finally, we reach the bottom of the staircase, finding ourselves in a small and dank underground parking lot.
It’s dimly lit and it’s empty. Two rubber tracks mark the ground where someone has thumped their foot to the pedal and sped away.
“Shit!” I say again, slamming my fist into the wall. “She’s gone, Angel.”
He’s calmer than me and I don’t know how he can be.
“We knew she would be, Axel.”
I stalk towards him, grab a handful of his shirt and slam him into the wall. “You sure you don’t know where she is, motherfucker?”
“Would I be here with you right now if I did?” he snarls back into my face.
I want to slam my fist right into his smart mouth this time. But I can’t afford to waste the time.
Besides, it’s my fault. My fault she’s missing. My fault she’s been taken. If anyone should be getting his ass tanned, it’s me.
A growl rumbles in Angel’s chest and then his eyes flick up above my head.
“There’s a camera,” he says.
I peer over my shoulder.
He’s right. There’s a security camera pointing right our way, pointing right at the spot where the getaway car must have been parked.
