PROLOGUE - SALT
This is the third day in a row I can’t find Senu, and my legs are absolutely wrecked from running all over the neighborhood, checking every place I can think of.
Darius is way more patient with me than I probably deserve and gives me yet another day off. When I stop by the tattoo parlor that morning, the place I’ve worked at for four years now, and ask for a couple more days, he doesn’t even blink. He throws me a look that says he gets it, claps a hand on my shoulder, and says, "Sure thing, kid. Family comes first."
I’m grateful for that; I really need the time to figure out what the hell happened to my brother.
I start my day at the family grill bar where Senu worked, asking the staff around, but I don’t get much out of it. One of the waiters mentions that Senu had been talking lately to one of the regulars, Tif, who mooches off people. Tif’s hooked on drugs and usually crashes at one of the nearby places around the bar, butapparently he hasn’t been seen there either. That part doesn’t mean much on its own. When Tif goes on a binge, he can vanish for weeks.
Once again, I find myself stepping into Under the Line. Senu used to come here sometimes because he was friends with the assistant manager. The bartender rolls his eyes the second he sees me.
"You again, Salt? I already told you, I haven’t seen Senu in days."
"You must know something," I say. "Maybe you heard something. A rumor. Anything."
I lace my fingers together in front of my chest in an exaggerated, almost mocking plea, like a cat begging for food, but he just snorts.
"You ever think he might’ve relapsed? You never really know with ex-junkies. Maybe he’s holed up in some dump with a stash and riding the high of his life."
I feel the growl rip out of my chest before I can stop it. "Watch your mouth! Senu’s been clean for two years."
The bartender shrugs, unimpressed. "Yeah. Or maybe an opportunity came up."
"Oh, just shut up. I don’t need your half-baked theories."
"Hey," he says, lifting his hands. "Don’t snap at me. I’m trying to give you something real to work with."
"Thanks for a whole lot of nothing," I mutter as I turn away, throwing him a crooked look.
I’m almost at the door when I notice a young alpha standing there. I’ve seen him around before, and he once came into my parlor for a tattoo. We talked a bit while I inked him, and I got the sense he was kind of into me, which is exactly why I made a point of avoiding him afterward. He looks like gang material, probably a newer recruit.
"Hey, wait," he says quietly, glancing around to make sure no one’s paying attention to us.
I slow down, though I don’t like it. I don’t keep company with alphas. I never have. Alphas mean trouble.
"Check out the Tanners," he murmurs. "I was in the john at the Green Lantern when I overheard one of them saying they’d caught two new fish. That lines up with Senu and Tif disappearing. Thought you should know."
I freeze. The Tanners are trouble incarnate, and everyone in the neighborhood has heard about them. They run an underground porn operation and film barely legal omegas. Or not legal; you never know. The thought of Senu being anywhere near them makes my skin crawl. He looks younger than his age, sure, but he’s twenty-three, and they don’t usually go after omegas over eighteen. Tif, though, was eighteen. The pieces start lining up in ways I don’t like.
"When did you hear this?" I ask, my voice catching slightly.
"Three days ago. Evening."
"Fuck."
That was the last day I saw Senu. He’d been heading to work at the grill bar by the beach.
"Thanks," I mutter.
"If anyone asks," the alpha says just as quietly, "you didn’t hear it from me."
"Understood."
I leave the bar with my jaw clenched so tight it hurts. Over the past few years, the Tanners have built a reputation so bad, people barely say their name out loud. There are whispers about omegas disappearing, about them targeting people no one’s going to look for. Someone should’ve gone to the cops a long time ago, but in a neighborhood like this, people keep their heads down and stay quiet until things finally blow up.
I pick up the pace.
I know where the Tanners live. Their place is two houses down from Darius’s. He’s complained more than once about their parties, the music and screaming carrying all the way to his place, sometimes deep into the night.
