Page 90 of Caged

Evander cuts in, “She remembers her name, obviously knew she was a vampire. Remembered enough to come looking for the closest Bloodbound compound. She’s got bits and pieces coming back, but…”

“Nothing that can help us.” Gav deduces with a sigh. He leans back in his chair and rubs his brow. Caelan isn’t the only one who looks exhausted.

“That’s not all,” Evander adds. “We were cross-checking Omega registries to find her, and one of the guys came across something strange. We don’t know where she’s from, so we started local, with Cook County. While we were cross-checking with the Federal list, the program was running the same check simultaneously with a cached version. It flagged some anomalies.”

Dax groans. ”Oh Fates, what now?”

“There were Omegas on that registry six months to a year ago who aren’t there anymore. Not dead, no designation change as fucking rare as that is. They were there, and now they’re not.”

That isn’t just unheard of, it’s damn near impossible. Omegas don’t just disappear from the registry like that. It’s government-operated and closely monitored.

“We started to dig, and wouldn’t ya know it? Prelim checks came back, and all the missing Omegas were cut from the same cloth.” Ford’s voice is soaked in tension. He hates nothing more than assholes who take advantage of Omegas. “They’re all poor, unbonded, and alone.”

“Easy targets,” Caelan mutters. “That’s so fucked up.”

“I need you two to stay put and keep digging,” Gav orders. “I hate to be down two of my best men, but we need answers. If this is connected to what’s happening here, we need to know. Keep pushing the girl. Everything she remembers, I want to know. No delays, got it?”

“Copy that.” Evander grunts in reply.

“Yeah, ten-four,” Ford adds. “We’ll keep our eyes open and noses clean.”

Gav cuts the connection and crosses his arms over his chest, surveying the room.

“Caelan. You good?”

Caelan’s eyes snap to Dax, and his brow furrows. “Fine. Why?”

Daxen doesn’t reply, but his eyes pointedly drop to Caelan’s chest, where he’s rubbing his palm in tight circles over his sternum. Caelan follows Dax’s gaze and drops his hand like he’s been burned.

“Just sore from training,” he mutters.

My eyes ping-pong between my packmates. Things have been so tense lately. I fucking hate it. This isn’t like us. We fight, but not like this, and never for this long.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me, Dax!” Silas jokes, interrupting another possible stand-off between the two Alphas.

He stands, trudging over to the fridge where he ducks his head in to survey the contents, surfacing with a hand wrapped around a blood vial.

“Lovely,” Dax replies sardonically. “Maybe while you’re glued to my ass you can learn how to shut the fu—DON’T DRINK THAT!”

Dax launches across the table. I try to get out of his way, but his elbow clocks me in the solar plexus, and I fold over, gasping for air.

“Ass—hole,” I wheeze, shooting him a glare.

He’s not paying attention to me, though. His hands are wrapped tightly around Silas’s, which is wrapped tightly around the vial of blood.

It’s not one of the vials we keep on hand that Silas calls a “Snack pack.” This one is small, almost completely swallowed by his large, tattooed hand.

My packmate is up in his face, fangs bared, a growl rumbling through his chest. Silas’s eyes widen, and he releases the vial so fast he almost drops it.

Dax lunges, catching it out of the air with ease.

“Fates, dude! Sorry!” Silas raises his hands and backs up. “I didn’t realize you were that attached to it. Warn me the next time you go feral over a Snack pack.”

He winces, then mutters to himself, “Damn—I think I peed a little.”

Dax holds the vial up to the light, checking that it’s still in one piece.

“Wait,“ I narrow my eyes. “That’s the blood from the Varenthrall Estate, isn’t it?” My head whips to Caelan. “The one you pulled during recon?”