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“Immensely,” I said bluntly, “but it can’t be helped.” He looked like he wanted to say more but didn’t.
I finished eating and tossed the to-go box in the trash can before picking up the stack of papers I planned to put on the senator’s desk.
Instead of sitting down, I started trailing my fingers over the bookshelf he had behind the desk. No one kept important papers out in the open or in the obvious places. The governor I’d previously worked for had had a giant locked file cabinet. Burke was far too pompous for something that simple.
The spines of all the books on his shelves felt like genuine leather. It wasn’t until I was three shelves down that I hit something different. It felt strange, heavier, and when I tried to pull it away, it didn’t budge.
“Why are you feeling up his books?” Weston came over and stood behind me, stretching his arms around me. He mimicked my movements, and I waited to see if he noticed it. He hesitated on the same exact one I that had given me pause.
I tilted my head to the side, reading the scrolling script on its spine.The Art of Winning.
“Fitting,” he noted with a small chuckle. “It’s obviously fake. Let’s figure this out, shall we? Almost as much fun as my job.”
“And your job is what?” I asked, figuring I might as well try.
“Killing,” he said casually, and I didn’t doubt it for a second. Anyone who could so casually admit something that dark was obviously not making it up.
“Sounds wholesome,” I said drily, keeping my expression even. He glanced at me as a laugh bubbled out.
“You’re not startled?”
“I’m not even surprised,” I admitted. “I’ve thrown around some theories on what I think you’re all involved in. This fits the bill, honestly.”
“I want to hear more about that,” he said, finding this conversation hilarious. It should be horrifying to learn your mate is a killer, but after everything we’d seen and been through, I was glad to have someone like him on my side.
“Get back to work,” I snarked, not wanting to let it derail us. He looked like he wanted to say more but decided against it.
We ran our hands over every inch of the bookshelf, trying to find a trigger or something.
“Move,” Cyrus said before he bullied his way into our space. He reached up higher than I could, aiming for the top shelf where a similar-looking book rested. With a rough shove of his fingers, the lower one popped free to reveal a safe.
There were a few things inside, like a gun, a stack of money, and a few smaller envelopes and papers, but it was the large manilla folder that caught my eye.
“He’s been working on a bill,” I said quietly. It was the entire reason I’d been assigned to the senator in the first place. I pulled it free and went back to my desk while they pilfered through the rest.
“This feels too easy,” I muttered as I slid it open and pulled out the stack of papers tucked inside. It was thick, but most of it was nonsense political jargon. They loved to pile their laws full of it so the average person didn’t stand a chance at understanding it.
At its core, the law was the same as his campaign platform—establishing Alpha and Omega Services in a different light—but in the fine print was where the danger laid.
They’d spaced out the smaller changes, so they were well hidden, and every single one of them had alarm bells ringing in my head.
All roads pointed to trafficking, including everything from allowing alphas to rut omegas without consequence and quoting biology as a reason to excuse it, to ensuring that no alpha would be required to pay child support for a child born outside of an established pack. Having their alphas in the Omega Services clinics and buildings meant that omegas had no one to support them specifically, and private conversations about personal medical decisions would basically become obsolete.
Even the section about awarding more grants to these services housed more hidden bullshit. They wanted to require any omegas accusing an alpha of unlawful behavior to undergo a psych evaluation as well as a meeting with the board of directors to present their case before it went to court.
All of which were alphas.
Disgust, anger, and genuine fear filled me, not for myself but for the omegas who needed to escape. Nothing could have put this entire mission into perspective more. The Syndicate wasn’t the problem, these alphas were. In a world where omegas didn’t hold the power, the Syndicate was fighting fire with fire, even if there might be some casualties burned in the process.
That, I could support despite the chance that I wouldn’t make it out of this unscathed.
One glance told me the guys were still inspecting the rest of the safe and talking quietly. I pulled out my Syndicate phone and snapped picture after picture. They’d started to read the messages halfway through, but I didn’t stop until I sent every fucking page. When I finished, I tucked the phone away and went to the safe, replacing it exactly where I’d found it and shutting the door.
Their response was quick, and when I checked it, bile rose in my throat.
Syndicate: Act Soon. Time is running out.
ChapterFourteen
