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“I know that, but I also know that girl makes alphas crazy,” Rook shoots back. “And I know you’re the type to join a cult, so…”
I fold the map with care, tucking it into the hidden pocket of my jacket. “I get it, man—but trust me. I’ll get me and her out of this…and hopefully some other folks, too.”
“I do trust you,” Rook says. “It’s Aisling I don’t trust.”
"Fair enough," I reply, a wry smile playing on my lips. "But she's got something about her, you know? I mean, don't tell me you haven't noticed."
Rook snorts on the other end of the line. "Yeah, I've noticed. And that's what worries me."
I look out into the darkness shrouding the cliff as a chilling breeze blows through, carrying with it the scent of salt and decay. "Well, worry less about her and more about how we're gonna pull this off."
There's a solemn silence before Rook speaks again, his voice low and serious. "I'll keep digging for intel on our end. Just watch your back out there, Luka.”
With a nod to no one in particular, I click off the radio and rise to my feet. Tomorrow's another day of blending in, another day closer to finding what we're here for. And I can't shake the feeling that every step I take on these cracked sidewalks is one step deeper into a pit that might just be impossible to climb out of.
***
Extended rescue missions can be a boring gig.
I spend two weeks seeing very little of Aisling, attending meetings to learn more about Terra Vitae, participating in rounds of farm and livestock work. We tend to the crops, put food in the storehouses, slaughter animals…
Rinse.
Repeat.
In fact, it’s very rare that we get to do the culty shit I’m so fond of—and my intuition goes dull, fizzles. I spend most of my time shooting the shit with Isaiah, making smalltalk. I think he’s a good guy.
An ally, when this all goes to shit.
It takes all two of those first weeks for the cult to trust us…and it’s only then that they bring us into the fold. All the Initiates are called for a clandestine meeting in the middle of the night, and we’re guided toward the temple.
I follow Isaiah inside, the air thick with the musk of ambition and newfound power. The place buzzes with talk, the Initiates muttering about what the hell is going on while some of the oldtimers gather at the pulpit.
"You know what this is about?” Isaiah asks.
I shake my head, my gaze skimming the room, taking in faces, noting exits, memorizing layouts—every detail etched into the map in my mind. “No clue.”
Isaiah nods, his expression unreadable as we move closer to the crowded center of the temple. The low hum of voices fills the air like a foreboding melody, and I can sense the tension building up in the room. My senses are on high alert, every nerve tingling with anticipation.
As we reach the front, a hush falls over the crowd, and all eyes turn towards a figure stepping up to the pulpit. He's tall, imposing, with sharp features and piercing eyes that seem to see through your very soul.
I’ve heard of this guy, seen him around.
Zaqiel—Jasper’s right hand.
"Welcome, Initiates," Zaqiel's voice carries through the room, commanding attention. "Tonight is the night you've all been waiting for. The night you will finally meet your omega mates."
A ripple of excitement and apprehension sweeps through the gathered crowd, whispers and murmurs breaking out like wildfire. I feel a twinge of unease at the mention of omega mates. This is what I’ve been waiting for—information on where they’re keeping these women, and how I can get them out with Aisling’s help. I exchange a glance with Isaiah, noticing the tension in his jaw and the furrow between his brows.
Zaqiel continues, his voice smooth and authoritative. "Those of you who have proven yourselves worthy by impregnating an omega at the May Queen's ceremony will get to keep her as your mate."
My stomach churns at his words, and I can see a similar reaction on Isaiah’s face. The others, though? They look excited.
We don’t have a lot of allies among the initiates, then. We’ll have to look elsewhere for help.
“I don’t like this,” Isaiah mutters as a group of alphas up front goes to a door at the back. They open it, and a scent rolls over me…omegas.
Pregnant, filthy omegas.
