To Tame an Omega

Chapter 3-2

The final few miles had been hell. Sheets of rain slammed into the windshield, hailstones pummeled the roof in a chorus of tiny dents, all punctuated with sizzling shafts of lightning. A wooden bridge marked the edge of the facility’s property. It had Grant worried. They’d rattled over it and could see the creek swelling its banks. They’d have to rush their visit if they wanted to cross it again on the way out.

Grant stopped in front of the imposing steel gate spanning the road, the only opening set in a high stone wall. A sodden mustard-colored flag Grant recognized from the company’s letterhead drooped over the gate. A metal sign fixed below the flag read: Synergenics—No Admittance. The whole setup screamed distrust and secrecy. As they waited, a violent gust bowed the sign into a sharp curve straining toward his windshield, before snapping back flat to rattle against its bolts. Grant couldn’t help flinching.

At last, a man swathed in a bright yellow slicker exited the gatehouse and fought his way to the SUV. Grant opened the window just a c***k to pass the man his government identification but still got slapped with icy rain.

The guard checked the ID and, over the howling wind, yelled, “Drive straight through, and follow the signs to the administration wing. No phones or electronics allowed inside. Leave them in the vehicle. Superintendent Lowther will meet you.”

The man ran back to the shelter, and a moment later the gate opened.

Grant drove where he’d been directed, parked, and looked with dismay at the distance they’d have to cross. A series of waterlogged grassy medians lay between them and the door. No options, though. He deposited both their phones in the console and turned to Rafael. “You ready?”

The man’s eyes were huge as he nodded his agreement. Worried? Or just afraid to get wet?

They both opened their doors and ran. Grant was crossing the last muddy median when a yelp sounded behind him. He glanced over his shoulder.

Rafael was face down in the thick ankle-deep soup of dirt and icy water.

Grant reversed course and grabbed an arm, hauling him up. Fighting hard not to laugh at those spring green eyes peeking out of a mask of mud, he dragged the poor man to the entrance.

The door swung open, and a short, thin man in a pinstriped business suit motioned to them to hurry. “Come in, come in. I’m Superintendent Mitch Lowther. Bad luck about the weather—you’ve arrived at the height of it.”

Squelching their way inside, the two of them left a trail of water and dirt on the polished lobby floor. The alpha held out his hand. “Grant Tenereth. And this is my associate Rafael Vargas, a computer expert.”

The superintendent shook Grant’s hand, then turned to Rafael but jerked back at the sight of the black sludge the man was covered with. “Sorry. Let’s get you cleaned up.” He signaled the security guard. “John, show Mr. Vargas to the showers and get him some dry clothes.”

The guard c****d his head toward the hallway on the left and led the way. Rafael trudged after him, shedding clods of black mud in his wake.

“Now, Director, let’s go to my office. I’ve had fresh coffee sent from the cafeteria. We can discuss what measures you’ve taken to retrieve our inven…our poor little omegas.”

Grant bristled. The man hadn’t just referred to the omega children as inventory, had he? So much for professional courtesy—time to take charge. “We’ll have to skip the coffee. I want a tour of the facility right away. I need a better idea of the way things work here if I’m going to understand how such a glaring security breach could have happened. When Rafael has cleaned up, he’ll try to trace the hack.”

Apparently unused to having his position challenged, Lowther’s face flushed. After clearing his throat, the man said, “We don’t normally allow alphas to wander around here. There’s a risk of—”

“Yes, the risk of triggering a heat. However, I believe very few omegas are left here, so the risk is minimal.” Grant folded his arms and loomed over the much shorter man. Loading his voice with as much grim command as he could, he said, “Let’s get started. Oh, and tell your guard to conduct Rafael straight to your computer room.”

After a short but intense staring contest, Lowther huffed out a sigh and surrendered. “Very well. This way.” He pulled out his radio, issued the command regarding Rafael, and stalked through the hallway.

Grant hid his smile as he followed his reluctant host. Sometimes the whole alpha power play thing could be useful to get what he wanted.

An image of a desirable, though mud-covered, green-eyed beta rose in his mind. Might turn out to be quite useful indeed.