Good. The resistance needs every good mage it can get, especially one with connections like Jack’s.
“Last fall,” Ian begins. “Miss Juniper Rose told you about a clandestine facility here in New Brunswick. Therein, she bore witness to the experimentation on and torture of affinitied omegas, carried out by Radcliffe Industries. Not long after, those same omegas attacked Fairhaven Academy. All of them were being controlled by the collars Miss Rose described. We speculated that the facility was hidden by mage tech and, thanks to Juniper’s bravery, we got the intel from Andrew Radcliffe that we needed to find the facility.”
He nods to Simon, and Simon projects the map of New Brunswick on the wall.
“We have since discovered that the facility is indeed hidden by mage tech, but it’s also protected by three layers of complicated wards and guards wearing mage tech. Based on our study of the facility, we should be able to jam the frequency the mage tech operates on, and I’ll personally take care of dismantling the wards. We also know that there are more than twenty guards in rotations within the facility, as well.”
The image flicks to the blueprint of the facility and Ian nods for me to step forward. “If you would, Miss Rose?”
Using my scribe like a laser pointer, I trace my ingress route into the facility, pointing out where the omegas are held captive and where the experiments and affinity tests are carried out. I detail every affinity I saw at the facility, cross-referenced against the affinities eyewitnesses at Fairhaven saw during the attack.
“While the omegas that attacked Fairhaven are no longer at this facility, we can still expect to find about fifty omegas in need of rescuing. It’s highly likely that these omegas will be under the influence of the collars, and they may not come willingly.” I pause, feeling the weight of every resistance member’s attention on me, but it isn’t just their attention I have; I have their respect as well.
Encouraged, I square my shoulders and continue. “From what we’ve witnessed, omegas wearing an activated collar are unable to disobey their handlers. If their handlers are present, they can, and likely will, be ordered to attack any intruders. Those that aren’t collared will be scared. Traumatized. Removing them from the facility and getting them to safety will require the utmost care, but that’s just the beginning. Many, if not all, of these omegas will be wearing collars that we have no idea how to deactivate, which leads us to our second priority in infiltrating the facility.”
Simon flashes Nathan Wickman’s photograph up on the wall, and I dive into the next part of our plan. “We believe Nathan Wickman is the engineer behind the collars, and he may be one of the few people who actually know how to unlock them. While one team will work to free the omegas, my pack and I will find Wickman and try to uncover this information. It may be as simple as using his biometrics to unlock a computer only he has access to, which Simon can achieve. Regardless, between the five of us, we’re confident that we can acquire the information we need to unlock the collars.”
Besides my pack, only Graeme and Sienna know how we’ll actually be able to get the information from Nathan Wickman, but my white lie is believable enough that no one protests.
“Finally, that leads us to our third objective,” I say, nodding to my genius beta. “Simon?”
He comes up to stand beside me and launches into the next part of our plan. “While we’re in the facility, we need to destroy as many of the collars and as much of the manufacturing equipment as possible. Radcliffe Industries or some other company associated with Project Halcyon will attempt to rebuild, so we have to make that as difficult for them as possible. After we found the facility, I broke through their firewalls and have since found out a lot about how it operates. We have schedules and rosters, as well as a blueprint of the facility that Juniper has been kind enough to annotate.”
He highlights a large block of massive rooms on the blueprint with his scribe. “Based on power consumption data and employee traffic in and out of these areas, we believe this is the main manufacturing area, and this,” he says, indicating another room, “is where the collars are being stored. Based on badge swipe data I’ve been collecting, our best window is Saturday morning, between 2:00 and 4:00 AM. The facility will be operating on a skeleton crew, minimizing the resistance we should encounter.”
He goes on to describe what the strike team can expect to encounter during that time frame, detailing the number of guards and other personnel. Finally, he cedes the stage to Graeme, who walks the gathered resistance members through the plans for accomplishing our objectives. Graeme himself will lead the mission to rescue the captive omega test subjects, while a beta woman about Ian’s age, Alena, will lead the team destroying the collars and manufacturing equipment. She cracks her knuckles menacingly, and after listening to her speak for a few minutes, it becomes abundantly clear that her passion for magical explosives is secondary only to her desire for justice.
By the time we’ve walked through the entirety of the plan, we have more than enough volunteers for the strike team—and offers to house, care for and protect the freed omegas.
We’ll strike within the month, as soon as Ian has finished figuring out how to dismantle the wards.
As the meeting draws to a close, I feel buoyed, as if I’m floating on a wave of optimism. The mission won’t be easy, and I know it’ll be dangerous, but for the first time since I found out about the facility, we finally have a means of disrupting Andrew Radcliffe’s plans and Project Halcyon’s fearsome progress.
The road ahead of us is long, but even this feels like a victory.
* * *
On the Feastof Saint Valentine, I wake to tattooed fingers trailing down my ribs and my mate’s whispered promises in my ear. He coaxes me awake with the sweetest kisses, and when I finally open my eyes, his kisses deepen. Luca strokes his tongue into my mouth, teasing me with his piercing until I fist my hands in his shirt and tug it off over his head.
The moment we’re both bare, he takes my hand in his and kisses me from my shoulder all the way down to his bite. I shiver at the brush of his lips over the silvery scars just below my wrist, desire pooling in my belly, and my alpha doesn’t deny me.
It isn’t until we’re both sated, and I’m sprawled across his tattooed chest, locked to him by his knot, that he says, “Good morning, my beautiful mate. Happy Feast of Saint Valentine.”
When I’m showered and dressed for my classes and head down to the kitchen, I’m greeted by my other mate, a dozen yellow roses, a stack of pancakes, and a mocha almost as sweet as he is, and though I would rather spend our short morning together wrapped up in his arms, he makes me eat. He does pour my coffee into a thermos so we have time to sneak in a few toe-curling kisses, though.
I find Simon’s first valentine on the front passenger seat of the SUV. It’s a Blow Pop with a curly ribbon and a small card tied around the stick.
You blow me awayis written on the card in his tidy print.
I find the second waiting for me at my worktable in Intermediate Casting, a mint-flavored Kit-Kat with a note that saysWe are mint to be,and then the third tucked into my book bag, a bag of gummy bears whose note readsYou’re beary special to me.
I groan, but Ian catches it and shoots me a wink.
When we’ve moved into the practical portion of our lesson, he surreptitiously drops a small bag of Reese’s Pieces on my desk.
Love you to pieces.
Alyssa snickers and digs in her bag and presents me with a bag of Swedish Fish.
