"Got a call from Colt a bit ago." He swiped a bottle of water from the shelf next to my desk and polished off half in a single gulp. "He was checking out that Omega house that the dating site creeper tracked to."
Shit. That was fast. "And?"
"He's there, but there's more."
Clint handed me his phone, a batch of pictures already loaded on the screen. As I scrolled through image after image that made the Verlorene Hoffnung Rehoming Center look like a vacation resort, my stomach lurched. "What the fuckisthis?"
"Colt said he's not sure, Rafe, but he thinks the place is the front for some sort of research facility." Clint swallowed hard. "He thinks they're experimenting on shifter prisoners."
"Holy fuck," Zade whistled under his breath. "That's crazy."
"We'll have to reach out to their local office." I began to rifle through my folder of contact lists. "Clint, is Colt going to be able to get out of there?"
"Should be fine," Clint said with a sigh. "They're operating the Omega house as a cover, so he went in as a John. They hadn't made him."
"Has he made contact with the Alpha we were looking for?"
"That's another weird thing," Clint said. "He's there, but according to Colt, he's a prisoner. There's no way that he could have grabbed Harley."
Jerking the contact list for the eastern coast free, I began to punch the numbers into my phone. "This just keeps getting more fucked up."
