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“Yes, I’m hungry, no to allergies, and here’s my card,” I responded as I dug out my wallet, but Bailey waved it off.
“Don’t worry, I’m loaded.” This time, I couldn’t help myself. My bark of laughter had us both cracking up. Bailey rolled her eyes as she nestled into her blanket, a smile ghosting her lips.
Finding something we both wanted to eat was more of a challenge than I’d anticipated. She’d wrinkle her nose at every suggestion I made, and if she threw an idea out, she’d look at my face and decide I didn’t like it. Was I a lot more expressive than I thought, or was she indecisive? Where was Weston when you needed him? He’d have taken control and ordered five minutes ago.
We finally decided on a local pub that delivered. She put in our order, adding a few extra meals in case anyone came back. She might not have said she wanted us as her pack forever, but the omega was already thinking of us all, even Sterling, who she wanted to punch more than kiss.
With that out of the way, we were back at our search, but it was such a strange contrast to my usual process. I couldn’t lose myself in it and tune her out like everyone else. At home, I had a little dark cave I worked in. Okay, maybe it wasn’t small, but it was definitely cluttered enough with equipment to appear that way.
Strangely, I kind of loved working alongside her. Bailey and I knew we were mates, but I wasn’t going to just dive in like Sterling and my father had. This was more my style, getting to know her on a different level, earning her trust.
It would make it so much better in the end when I did get to taste her. I thought about it nearly every moment I was around her, wrapped in her scent, but I had enough control to be patient.
For now.
“Wait, here’s something!” she practically yelled, startling me out of my lust-filled thoughts. “It’s not the hotel, exactly, but what was there before it. That hotel was owned by a prominent local family, the Garrisons. It was well known as The Garrison, though that wasn’t its given name, especially since it was converted from an old war-time safehouse into that hotel. There was eventually a fire, and the rebuild led to this current hotel.”
I typed the nickname into my own search engine. Now, the hits were popping up one after the other.
“Interesting,” I muttered to myself. The most recent post about it mentioned Alvarez, the man that Weston had recently taken off of his list. “Trafficking.”
That word had her looking up at me, horrified.
“Excuse me?” she said, but I knew she didn’t actually need an explanation.
“It's been used as a front for a trafficking ring from the early days, and it’s going strong even today. They still use the old name. Either way, it’s a hotspot for traffickers. If we went to the hotel right now, I guarantee they’d be mostly booked up, and the guests would be pseudonyms.”
“That’s… unexpected,” she breathed out.
“Who are you working for?” I asked quietly. “Bailey, are you safe?”
“No.” She didn’t clarify which question was being answered, but I didn’t push further. There was no chance of me getting anywhere with that pursuit right now. I’d have to talk to my father soon. He and the others would be more willing to take whatever measures were needed to make our omega tell us the truth. I was more of a peacekeeping beta, whereas this needed a stronger possessive attitude than I had.
As I scrolled through the information in the post, I recognized one of the names along with Alvarez. Who had put their real names in was beyond me, but I took in as much information as I could before it was gone.
“Who did you replace at his office? Do you know? Have you seen any information on her?”
“No, but I can find out,” she promised, then her mouth dropped open in horror. “No, you don’t think?”
“That he’s picking his girls? Yes, yes, I do. It feels a bit too coincidental that he found someone who looked just like his wife, and after she abruptly quits, he finds you. Something about his choices are far too purposeful. Bailey, do not let yourself be alone with him for long.”
“I can’t avoid him, but I promise I can protect myself,” she said. I just wished one of us believed the lie.
“This is blowing up. There’s years and years of information,” I told her. She moved closer to read through the highlights on the screen.
“Holy shit,” she whispered. “Wait, then the name on that birth certificate and the fact that there’s no father listed… It might be connected in the same way? Maybe a product of the ring?”
She was smart, following my train of thought perfectly.
“We’ll find out in a second,” I said.
She watched in tense silence as I searched the two queries. My stomach turned as I sorted through the pages.
In the criminal world, there were men like us, ones who had standards, things they held back from, and then there were the monsters who did the things in these posts—trading women, children, and teen omegas, not caring about the condition they left them in or the way they obtained them.
The only reprieve I had from the horror was our food being delivered. Bailey grabbed it and spread it out on the counter, urging me to move that way and eat, but neither of us did more than pick at the food.
“They keep records?” she asked in disbelief. I’d stumbled upon a list of names and births… victims and children of the ring. Each omega on the list was tied to a man in power—bankers, politicians, the rich, really anyone of status. This was solid evidence that we could use.
