My alphas are coming.
Chapter fifty-seven
Callisto
Abducted by Clarissa Jones. Headed west.
The legal objection on my tongue fizzles away as Red’s message flashes up. Abducted? Say what?
“Did you have something to add, Councilor Wren?” The judge looks at me like I’ve grown a second head as I stand frozen, half out of my chair. My brain empties, and I glance around, mouth agape.
Prosecution, defense, the crowd gathered to see if I can top Shiloh Laurance’s record 102-case win streak. None of it makes sense.
The judge shakes his head. “If you have nothing to say, the defendant may continue.”
“Wait!” my shrill voice echoes in the ancient room. My career, the win streak, what does any of it matter when Red’s in danger? An acidic scent lodges in my nose, burning through my stupor. Grabbing my phone, I shove my chair back with a loud squeak. “I have to go.” I turn toward the barricade.
“Callisto!” my client lunges after me and grabs my sleeve. “You can’t leave now!”
What was I doing again? Right. Suing for false advertising after a product didn’t live up to its claim. My client has everything—valid professional evidence it didn’t work and an engineering team on standby ready to claim it was impossible in the first place. He has everything except a lawyer who gives a damn.
I snatch my arm away. “Figure it out on your own,” I snap, pushing through the wooden gate. “Sorry, Your Honor!” I call over my shoulder.
People shout at me, but I ignore them, already dialing the OCB. We need agents and eyes in the sky. Running through the corridor, I run smack into a court clerk I recognize. He sprawls on the floor, scattering files and his phone.
I swoop up the phone, blind to everything else. “Hey, sorry, but can I borrow this?” The screen’s unlocked, so I keep running without waiting for his reply, dialing Ricky’s number by memory.
The moment he answers, I hear Zack screaming in the background.
“Calli—” Rickon sobs.
“I’m on my way, and I’ve called the OCB,” I tell him.
The other line answers and I juggle both phones to my ears as I wave down a car. “Hello, my omega’s been abducted,” I say.
“Sorry, sir, but you’ll need to call nine—”
“Get Leroy on the line immediately,” I snap. “He’s already got her under surveillance!”
The woman’s protests die away, and she asks for our names instead. A moment later, the line blips. “Callisto? What’s going on?”
“Clarissa Jones just abducted Red Jones from . . .” I juggle a phone to each ear. “. . . Are you still at the racetrack, Ricky?”
“Yeah.”
Zack’s howls in the background tear at my soul, and I know exactly how he feels. I growl under my breath as I run down the courthouse steps. “You can trace her phone, right, Leroy? She just sent us a message.”
Leroy hisses. “Yeah, I’m on it. Stay on the line.”
Good. Better agents who know about Red than starting from scratch with a clueless sheriff. Leroy asks for all the details we have, and I put them both on speakerphone as I dive into the back of a taxi and give the racecourse address. I flip over to my driving service and order a car to arrive before me at the set location.
And as my fingers fly, my heart pounds with a foreboding drumbeat. I only just found Red, claimed her, and was claimed in return. All the dreams I’m having for our future can’t stop here. And of all people in the world, Red Jones shouldn’t have to endure any more shit in her life.
Just stay alive, Red. We’ll do the rest.
Leroy’s agents beat me to the racetrack, the entire parking lot lighting up with their flashing patrol lights. I wince, thinking how stressful they’ll be for Zack while also feeling relieved we aren’t facing this alone.
I pay the taxi driver and throw myself out of the vehicle. Agent Pierce sees me coming and lifts the barricade himself.
