"Vernon knows. He has to. The registrant list is semi-public for anyone with enough money, and Vernon has plenty. My contact says there's chatter about a proxy entry. Someone Vernon's sending into The Chase to catch his omega and bring him back."
"A retrieval."
"Dressed up as a claiming. Technically legal. Once the proxy bonds him, he transfers custody back to Vernon. The original bond reasserts, and Dalvin's right back where he started." Garrett's expression hardened. "It's a loophole. A nasty one."
I set the phone down with excessive care. My hands wanted to crush it. Wanted to crush Vernon Ashby's skull with the same precise force I used to shape steel.
Control. I needed control.
"I'm going," I said.
"Yeah."
"I'll register today. Money's not an issue."
"I know." Garrett straightened. "Which is why I'm coming with you."
I looked at him.
"You're going to need someone watching your back while you're focused on finding him. Vernon's proxy won't be alone. These retrieval types work in teams." He shrugged, the motion deceptively casual. "Besides, I've never done The Chase. Could be fun."
"This isn't a vacation."
"I'm aware. But you're my friend, and you've been carrying this weight for over a decade. Let me help."
I didn't have words for what that meant. Didn't have the vocabulary for gratitude this large. So I just nodded, and Garrett nodded back, and that was enough.
We arrived in Thornhaven the following evening.
The alpha intake facility was everything the brochures promised and nothing I wanted. Luxury suites with mountain views, gourmet dining, a full bar stocked with top-shelf liquor. The architecture dripped with old wealth and older traditions. Leather chairs, dark wood paneling, antler chandeliers that cast the common areas in warm amber light. Alphas in tailored suits mingled near the fireplace, comparing investment portfolios and discussing which omegas they'd targeted on the registrant list.
I stood apart from them. My boots were steel-toed, my jeans worn soft from years of work, my flannel shirt streaked with traces of soot that no amount of washing could fully remove. The other alphas glanced at me with the particular expression of men who couldn't quite place where I fit in their hierarchy.
Good. I didn't want to fit.
Garrett moved through the crowd with ease, shaking hands and trading small talk, playing the role of wealthy dilettante with practiced grace. He'd agreed to gather intelligence while I handled the administrative side. The proxy Vernon had sent would be here somewhere, and we needed to identify him before the hunt began.
I thought about the omega side of the facility. Whether Dalvin was sitting in a room half this size, being processed and prodded and prepared for auction. Whether he'd eaten dinner or whether fear had stolen his appetite. Whether he was thinkingabout me at all, or whether he'd buried the memory of us so deep it no longer surfaced.
My hands curled into fists at my sides.
Garrett handled the small talk while I handled the paperwork. Registration fees, liability waivers, medical exams confirming rut cycles. The beta administrator who processed my forms raised an eyebrow at my occupation.
"Blacksmith?"
"Custom metalwork. Architectural commissions, furniture, art pieces."
"Unusual profession for a Chase participant."
"I'm an unusual participant."
She stamped my forms and handed me a key card without further comment.
My suite was on the third floor. I didn't bother unpacking. Just stood at the window and watched the sun sink behind the peaks, painting the sky in shades of copper and rust. Colors I understood. Colors of heated metal, of transformation, of raw material becoming something new.
Dalvin was here. Somewhere in this complex, breathing the same mountain air, waiting for the same hunt to begin.
I'd found him. After twelve years, I'd finally found him.
