Falling Together (The Omega Haven Book 1)

by Claire Cullen

  A few minutes later, feeling marginally more comfortable and with the empty bottle of water clasped in his hand, he continued to cautiously explore the room. From upstairs, he could hear the sound of a television blaring through the locked cellar door. The sporadic cheers and the occasional yell from Hank, told him it was sport of some sort. He didn’t go straight back to where they'd left him, instead going to the second door, the one Hank had opened.

  “Hello?” he called, not daring to be louder than a whisper.

  He heard movement from inside and peered through the keyhole. A blue eye stared back at him.

  “How’d they get you?” the other wolf asked.

  “I was in an Omega safe house,” he said. “You?”

  “A hostel for Omega runaways. They said they’d found me a place, a Pack that would take me in, but they brought me here.”

  He sounded younger than Jake, but it was hard to tell.

  “Why’d you run?”

  “I was mated six months ago. Before we mated, he was sweet and kind. But after… he was different. I got tired of having a new bruise or a black eye every day because he kept changing the rules. What about you?”

  “My sister and her mate wanted me to be their surrogate, carry their child.”

  “Huh. I thought I’d heard it all at the hostel but that’s a new one on me. They said they’re moving you today.”

  “Soon, I think. They drugged my water, but I dumped it.”

  “You’d better not stay here. That stuff works quickly, they’ll be down for you soon.”

  The other wolf was right. He only had one chance at this, he’d better do it right.

  “What’s your name?” he asked.

  “I’m Colin. You?”

  “Jake.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Jake. Good luck getting out of here.”

  “If I get out, I’ll try to get help. I met a shifter crimes officer, his name was Chris, he knows about this kind of stuff. I’m sure he’d help find you.”

  “Good luck,” Colin called again.

  A minute later, he was back in position. He decided he should sprawl out like he had passed out from the drugs, but there was the problem of the food. There was no way to be sure it wasn’t drugged, so he couldn't take the chance of eating it, but leaving it untouched would probably have looked suspicious.

  He settled for kneeling and slumping on his side, the bowl of food tipped over and sauce smeared on his lips and chicken and rice held between the fingers of his hand. Like he’d passed out mid-meal. Despite his exhaustion, he didn’t let himself sleep. If they woke him and he showed signs of not being under, they’d probably drug him again just to be sure.

  It wasn’t long at all before the door opened and footsteps rang out on the stairs.

  “Out for the count,” Craig said with satisfaction.

  “Yeah, there was enough in it to have him out for a whole day. Antoine will probably have him sold again before he wakes up. Let’s get him out into the truck while Lyle packs up.”

  He heard someone move the bowl of food and kick the empty bottle away, the plastic bouncing off the floor before rolling to a stop. Knowing the next few minutes were crucial, he tried to lose himself in his mind, imagining a song he used to sing with his mother, imagining his fingers on the guitar strings. It meant that when they picked him up, fire licking through his abused muscles, he had something else to put his mind to and didn't let himself react to the world around him. Instead, he played out the melody in his head, hearing his mother’s sweet voice join his, the strum of the guitar between them.

  The next thing he knew, they were setting his body down on a hard surface.

  “Sleeping like a baby,” Hank said, then there was the sound of something being placed above him. He didn’t dare stir, or open his eyes, not until the truck door closed, throwing darkness across his eyelids. Even then, he waited, letting his eyes open but not moving. It was hard to make out anything in the dark, except a small line of light coming through where Jake guessed the doors were. It was enough that when his eyes adjusted, shifter genes giving him a much-needed advantage, he could make out that he was inside a wooden crate, with some kind of see-through cloth thrown over the top.

  The engine sputtered to life and then they were jerking into motion, the truck turning around before trundling away, rocking his body back and forth against the hard wood of the crate.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  At first, it was too quiet to do much of anything. The truck kept slowing down and making turns. There wasn’t anyone in the back with him, which was a mercy. There was no way he’d get out otherwise. But if he moved too soon, and they heard him, he’d be out of luck.

  He needed speed and the cover of traffic before he broke out of the crate.

  At a guess, maybe an hour or two passed before he got his wish. The travel was much smoother, no turns just gentle bends. And there was a lot more traffic; he could hear the engines, the occasional horn. But it was still too quiet, enough that he could hear the voices of the men up front. Could even make out that it was Hank and Lyle. He guessed Craig had stayed back to watch Colin. Which was another big reason he couldn’t mess this up. It wasn’t just him anymore.

  It was another agonizing wait before he got his wish. They slowed down a little, but he got the sense there was much more traffic, a veritable chorus of horns, revving engines, and brakes. Now was the time to move. He sat up, pushing at the top of the crate. Despite his fears he’d somehow missed them nailing it shut, it pushed up with a little effort. He moved to his knees, holding tightly to the wooden lid. If he dropped it, there was no way they’d miss that sound. He stood with it in his hands, balancing its weight with the back and forth motion of the truck as it sped up and slowed down. Leaning forward, he lowered it towards the ground, feeling the edge of the crate pressed against his stomach as he bent right over. The sharp edge dug into him, made worse by the weight he carried and his feet as he pushed them through the slots in the crate to keep himself from toppling out. He didn’t let go until he was sure the wood was resting against the floor and wouldn’t move any further. That done, he pushed back up and sat down again, giving himself a minute to catch his breath, to let the ache in his arms and the sting from the wood against his stomach fade.

  They were still stuck in traffic, horns honking every few seconds. He felt brave enough to climb out of the crate and across to the back of the truck. He might be out of luck if the doors couldn’t be opened from the inside.

  The truck was old, he guessed. Instead of a single door that opened up or down, there were two doors that swung out, held closed by what he guessed was a metal bar on one side that swung over and fit into a groove on the other. He could see the metal bar in the gap between the two doors. On this side, there was a metal wheel. Some of his father’s old trucks had been fit like that. If he turned the wheel counterclockwise, the bar would lift and he could push open the door.

  He dropped to his knees to get a better look and his heart sank. Below the bar, there was a metal chain hanging. The doors weren’t just bolted closed, they were chained together. He could just about see the heavy metal lock swinging between them. There was no way he was getting out of the back of that truck. Unless…

  He angled his head, trying to get a better look at the chain. It was hard, with only the small gap between the doors to work with. It didn’t look like the chain was pulled taut, which might mean there was some slack. Not enough give to open the doors but maybe enough for him to slip out between them?

  Sitting down, he braced himself against the side of the truck as he thought through his options. Once he reached his destination, there wasn’t going to be any chance of escape. And this time, Will wasn’t going to burst in and rescue him. Will thought he was miles away and safe. He almost laughed at the word. It was starting to seem like there was no safe place to be an unattached Omega. Even the places purporting to be safe havens were really traps in disguise. He wasn’t risking much. If his esca
pe failed, he was no worse off than he was if he did nothing. But if he took a chance, and it paid off, he could be free and maybe free Colin along with him.

  That settled, he had to consider timing. Jumping out now, when the truck was going some considerable speed with cars all around them, well, that wasn’t going to work out for the best. If he was injured climbing out of the truck, his chances of getting away were significantly diminished, plus he’d be in the middle of who knew where. No, he’d need to time it so he escaped when they had slowed down enough for it to be safe and where it would be easy enough for him to disappear. He was going to have to wait until they’d reached Eden. The city traffic would slow them down and it wouldn’t take much to get out of sight on Eden's streets, though the sight of a naked man climbing out of the back of a truck would inevitably draw some attention.

  His plan settled, he did one quick test of the wheel, ensuring the metal moved under his hand before settling down to wait until it was time to put his plan into action.

  It was early afternoon when he reached the meeting point. Chris was already there, as well as a handful of others he recognized and more he didn’t. The unit had been on a recruitment drive over recent years as more and more police departments recognized the need for teams who could handle shifters.

  He’d left Dave with Alan, Chris promising to send two officers to pick Alan up and take him in for questioning.

  Will felt oddly out of place with their seamless, practiced movements as they checked through their equipment.

  Chris waved him over, introducing him to the ones he didn’t know, then brought him over to the trunk of one of their cars.

  “We’ll get the paperwork and stuff squared away later. For right now—” He handed Will a vest which Will donned with hands just a little out of practice. Then, after a hesitation so brief he could almost imagine it hadn’t happened, Chris handed Will a gun.

  It was like any skill; riding a bike, driving a car, his hands remembered what to do, until he was satisfied the gun was loaded and ready to go and he was confident in his handling of it. Chris grinned at him, handing him a holster which he clipped to his belt.

  “Like old times, huh?”

  Despite the years they’d spent apart, Chris still read him like a book, letting a hand rest on his shoulder. “We’ll do our best to get him back, Will. I promise. But when we go in there, you need to keep a level head, okay?”

  He took a breath, letting it out slowly. “I know, Chris. I just want him safe.”

  Chris nodded, turning to the rest of the team.

  “Okay, let’s get ready to move out.”

  Will went in with Chris’ team through the front door, while Tim led the others through the back, with a third group establishing a perimeter a little way back from the house.

  The only man inside gave up easily, completely dumbfounded at finding himself surrounded by armed officers.

  Will stood back as Chris interrogated him, the man playing the oblivious, ‘I think you guys have made a mistake’ card.

  But he had ID on him and that answered that question.

  “Look, Craig. You want to be helping yourself here. The sooner you tell us what’s what, the better things will be for you.”

  “Guys, down here,” Tim yelled from the cellar. Chris handed Craig over to another officer. Will followed Chris, taking the steps two at a time.

  Downstairs was nothing they hadn’t seen before. Camera equipment set up. A screen, chains and metal cuffs on the floor, hooks in the ceiling, a bucket in the corner. He’d seen worse places, but that wasn’t saying much. The cellar was heavy with Jake's scent, alongside the scent of fear.

  Tim was in a room at the back, crouched on the floor, holding his hands out and talking to a figure shrouded in darkness in one corner.

  “Tim?” Chris asked. The Alpha glanced at them, then back to the man in the corner.

  “Door was bolted shut from the outside. Chris, can we get a medic in here?”

  Chris was already pulling out his radio and calling it in.

  “Chris?” the man from the corner piped up, moving closer so that the light from the door just hit him. It wasn't Jake. This Omega was younger; eighteen, nineteen. And heavily pregnant.

  Chris finished his request for an ambulance and stepped into the room. “That’s right. What’s your name, buddy?”

  “Colin. He said you’d come. I didn’t think so soon. I didn’t think you’d come at all.”

  “Who, Colin. Who told you we were coming?”

  “He said his name was Jake.”

  Will started at the name, Chris’ hand on his shoulder steadying him.

  “Where is Jake now?”

  “They took him. Antoine wanted him. He didn’t want me yet.” Colin glanced down at his pregnant belly. “Not until after.”

  Someone passed a blanket in and Tim shifted forward with it in his hands. “It’s okay now, Colin. You’re safe.”

  “Nowhere’s safe,” the Omega muttered, but he accepted the blanket, giving Tim a small smile.

  Will and Chris stepped back outside. “Antoine. Forbidden Fruit.”

  “We’ve gone full circle,” Will said.

  “They can’t be too far ahead of us. We’ll get on the road, get after them.”

  Will could only hope they weren't too late.

  The first clear indication they were in the city was the smell. Jake had gotten used to it over the previous few months and didn’t find it as unpleasant as he had at first. Now, it was almost welcoming, a sign he was home. Or, at least, back where he’d started.

  He peered out through the doors again, seeing flashes of city streets, traffic lights, people. Right place. Right time?

  Reaching for the wheel, he started to inch it around, hoping it wouldn’t be too loud. This would be the worst time to draw attention to himself. He had to put a bit of effort into it, but the bar moved, inching upward, and lifting out, until it was pointing straight up and the wheel stopped moving. He held onto the doors, not wanting them to start clanging about before he was ready. The chain rattled against them, reminding him of its presence, reminding him of other chains, other metal clamped around him, and the bite of a whip against his skin. Never again.

  He pushed the doors, testing them. They bulged out, constrained by the chain a second later. There was a gap, but it was small. Could he fit through it? Getting stuck wasn’t ideal either, his lower body dangling, or dragging against the ground. The truck braked to a sudden stop, throwing him against the doors.

  Damn. Had they heard him? Or had something alerted them? There was shouting from Hank.

  “Get out of the fucking way, idiot. Who U-turns with a trailer on the back?”

  Jake didn’t wait to hear more, shoving with all his might against the door and throwing his legs into the gap. It was a tight squeeze when it got to his hips, which he shimmied and twisted forcing them through using his hands against the doors for leverage. His shoulders were the next stopping point, his feet already touching the ground. He wrenched hard, pulling free and pitching sideways just as the truck pulled away.

  Scrambling to his feet, he turned to see the car behind him stalled, the driver, an elderly woman, watching him with wide eyes. He spun around, spying an alleyway a few feet away and running toward it. It was empty, except for the usual human detritus. He crouched behind a garbage can, pulling at his wolf fretfully. Any moment now, the men would hear the doors banging as they hit against the chain. They’d look, find him gone, and come after him. He had to be far away before they did.

  Finally, he caught a hold of himself, bringing his wolf to the surface in a rush that drew a cry from his mouth, a cry that ended in a muted howl. On four legs, senses sharpened, instincts heightened, he ran.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  This time around, entering Forbidden Fruit was a very different matter. His last venture inside was what one might have eloquently described as a smash and grab. On this occasion, they were instigating a full-on raid, co
mplete with hastily arranged back-up from the city’s own police department.

  Chris took a call just as they arrived, cursing as he stuck his phone back in his pocket.

  “Someone's tipped them off. We can still go in but I doubt we’ll find much of anything.”

  “Jake?”

  “They probably won’t have had time to move everyone. Not if we go now.”

  Will gave himself over to following orders, keeping his head in the game and out of the what-if scenarios that played through his mind like reels of film. They’d been here before and he’d seen how it ended, with Jake bloodied and bruised. And they'd just been getting started. Any later and he shuddered to think what state Jake would have been in when they interrupted. Overlain with that, were pictures of Avery at the end. The bloody scene that had been left for the police to find. For shifter crimes to find, since the tip-off had meant they, and only they, would be responding. Jake wasn’t Avery. Their similarities were few, and there was no reason they had to share a common fate.

  He stuck to Chris like a shadow once they were inside, trusting his friend to guide him while Chris trusted Will to watch his back. Which he would, always. There was a lot about this he missed. The adrenaline rush, the control needed to have all the strength that came with being a shifter while knowing when and where to use it. The knowledge that he was making a difference, keeping people, human and shifter alike, safe. Having a purpose larger than providing a space for people to get drunk every evening. He was glad to be part of a team again, to have someone’s back, and know someone else had his.

  It took over an hour to clear the building. An hour before they confirmed Jake wasn’t there and Will found himself standing in front of an amused Antoine.