Leroy plugs his laptop into a cable at the front desk and a moment later a projection flashes up on the screen behind him. “Of greatest concern is the substance used to immobilize anyone within a fifteen-foot range. The lab identified the material as condensed alpha pheromones in a mix of almond oil, plus a chemical compound we infer heightens scent.” He clicks through pictures of the broken pottery we found on the step. “The pottery shell contains the liquid until it’s lobbed or shot at the target and cracks, releasing the compounds. Symptoms include nervous system shutdown, paralysis, and—” He glances up at me. “—triggering alpha aggression.”
The assistant special agent in charge leans both hands on the podium. “For lack of any definitive name, we’re calling it an alpha bomb.”
When he pauses, a hand in the front goes up. “Any word from the military about it?”
Leroy shakes his head. “They said they haven’t heard of it, so likely whoever developed it either isn’t local or has created it as a personal project. Given they used it at a post-court media interview, it seems the attack was personal to the case—which brings us to our primary lead.” He flicks up another slide, and I twitch at the sight of the text message Red received.
“This text was received less than a minute before the detonation, and we believe it’s from the defendant in the court case, Ray Fibbistachi. What I need from you is to track down Ray’s hidden assets and find the production center for these bombs. Currently, we only have circumstantial evidence he’s involved, but it’s our best lead. We’ll divide into two teams. One will trace Ray and this text message; the other will follow the bomb trail to see if we can figure out where and how it’s made.”
Leroy presses his lips together as he sweeps a hard look around the gathered agents. “I don’t think I need to tell you what kind of danger this bomb presents. We already have an omegahaze epidemic. A concoction that paralyzes our operations teams poses a deadly hazard. For now, the effects seem temporary, but I’m guessing it’s still in development.”
Fuck, the bomb was potent enough to stop me in my tracks for maybe half a minute. Imagine what else these bastards might do with such a device.
Leroy puts down his clicker and leans on the podium. “The long and the short of it is: someone has weaponized scent.”
The alphas in the room rumble in response, none of us liking the picture he paints. A shudder worms down my spine as I remember the helpless, frozen internal sensation the oil caused. The fact Zack broke free so fast shows how insanely strong he is; not just physically but mentally—or maybe intuitively is a better word, since we’re talking about alpha pheromones.
What exactly happened to him in that fighting ring to make him run so boldly toward an invisible attack that made my alpha nature quail in fear? It must be an iron will. One day, when this is all over, I hope I get the chance to ask him.
After the meeting, I go with Leroy and the two agents who’ve been living with the Jones’s pack for a conference call to another state OCB office.
Leroy waves me into a chair in the private meeting room containing a coffee machine and a long wooden conference table. “Callisto, since Zackary was the most triggered person there, it’s possible the attack was custom designed for him. I’m giving this angle to Josef and Pierce to track down, and I thought you might have some insights.”
“I’ll do whatever I can.”
He points to the white screen at the far end of the table. “The agents out at Darinian are the ones who broke up the fight ring; they know the most about what the ferals went through. And they know a thing or two about weaponized omega scent.” He lifts his hand and wobbles it in the air, depicting an uncertainuse of the term. “By which I mean using omegas in heat to provoke the fighters.” He checks his watch. “The Darinian agents should be ready for us in a minute.”
“Okay, but before we do that, I need to show you something,” I say, sliding the piece of notepaper from the prison across his desk. “I received this when I went to see Zack at Alpha Lodgings.”
Leroy reads silently, his frown deepening with every line. He passes the note over to Josef and the tall alpha hisses under his breath. “Some balls on this guy.”
“I plan to go see this Alhedy,” I admit, holding Leroy’s gaze. “We need every bit of information we can get right now.”
He snorts. “How’d I know that was coming next?” He types on his laptop and peers at the screen. “Let’s see. Keith Alhedy. Doing fifteen years for dealing firearms. Suspected gang leader, but nothing’s been tied to him yet.” He whistles under his breath as he reads more offenses ranging back over the past twenty-five years. “Is this who passed you the note?”
When he turns the monitor my way, the arrest photos reveal the bald, tattooed man from the prison hallway.
My stomach takes a dive as I nod. Is it possible Alhedy’s mixed up with Dodge or knows about the hit I ordered? Guilt prickles up my body, gathering around my throat. I could find myself in deep, deep water here. If that’s the case, maybe he plans to blackmail me with Zack’s well-being.
Leroy finishes reading, and his brows rise as he looks up. “Not the sort of guy someone like you wants to represent, nor do I want you near him.”
His words sting, and I open my mouth to argue, but he staves me off with an upright hand.
“But you can at least hear him out. If he knows Zack’s being threatened, it might be a lead.”
I nod grimly. “That’s what I was thinking.”
“Then speak to him, but make sure he’s chained down before you go in.” He stabs a finger onto the tabletop. “Last thing we need is something happening to you.”
“Sure,” I mutter.
The clock hits 11 am, and we make the call to the Darinian bureau. The projection flashes up to reveal a handful of agents sitting around a similar desk, all nursing coffee mugs.
Leroy introduces everyone on our end. An older man with a no-nonsense look presents his agents, including Supervisory Special Agent Liam Andrews, who I’ve already met, and a surly ginger-haired senior agent by the name of Colt Nesters.
I sit up straighter as my brain pings me. “You’re associated with Rose, aren’t you?” I ask.
Colt gets a fierce scowl on his face like I just pissed on his lawn. “Who’s Rose to you?”
