The chemical restraint comes next, a fast-acting sedative to render him unconscious within seconds of inhalation. I position it near the entryway, rigged to trigger when the door opens all the way. The device appears innocent enough, designed to be mistaken foran air freshener. It’s scary how easy it is to buy these kinds of things on the dark web.
With the trap set, I search the apartment for weapons Danny might have access to. The kitchen yields a set of dull steak knives, which I place in the freezer, out of reach. A baseball bat leans against the wall near the television. This goes into the bathtub, buried beneath towels.
The bedroom door stands half-open, revealing rumpled sheets and more clothes strewn across the floor. I push it wider, stepping over a pizza box.
The nightstand drawer slides open to reveal condoms, a pocketknife, and a small vial of clear liquid that chills my blood. Date-rape drug or a Heat inducer. Both options are disgusting. Both are illegal. I’ll leave it for the police to find when someone comes to check on him.
A spiral-bound notebook sits on the shelf above his bed, and when I flip it open, I find page after page of handwritten entries. Names. Dates. Locations. Physical descriptions that focus on scent profiles and Heat cycles. Notes about how each Omega responded to Command, which ones fought back, and which ones went quiet.
My stomach twists as I flip through it. This isn’t ajournal. It’s a catalog of every Omega he’s ever harmed.
Lena’s name is the latest entry, the ink still fresh. He’s included our address.
Friday night. Corner of Elm and 4th. Heat just beginning. Fought back, but responded to Command. Mark took well. Pretty little bitch needs training.
My vision narrows, darkness creeping in from the edges as I read his clinical assessment of my sister. Below her entry, he’s written:
Brother could be a problem. Handle if necessary.
I trace my finger over his handwriting as the rage inside me hardens into cold focus. The evidence locks into place. Danny isn’t just an opportunistic Alpha who crossed paths with my sister. He targets vulnerable Omegas, repeats the behavior, and keeps records.
And he’s been doing this for years.
I count the pages, discover some already missing, and tear out the entry about my sister, along with the five pages behind it, in case they carry the imprint from the pen. Then I close the book and return it to the same spot where I found it.
Maybe with this and the drugs, the police won’t spend a lot of time investigating Danny’s death.
Another check of my watch. Eight fifty-two. He’ll be home soon.
I fit a mask over my mouth and nose before I take up position behind the door, in the small space between the wall and a bookshelf stuffed with gaming guides and sports magazines. From here, I can see the chemical trap without him seeing me when he enters.
At a little past nine, a key scratches in the lock, the metal-on-metal sound triggering a flood of adrenaline through my system. I flatten against the wall, my breathing slowing to near-silent as the door pushes open.
Danny stumbles in, kicking the door closed behind him with the casual disregard of someone who believes they’re alone and safe in their territory.
As he crossed the threshold, the trap triggers with a soft hiss. The chemical compound releases into the air, misting in his path, invisible but potent.
Danny freezes mid-step, confusion washing over him as the sedative hits his system. His pupils dilate, and his mouth opens in a question that never forms. His knees buckle first, followed by his torso as control of his muscles evaporates in seconds.
As he crumples toward the floor, I rush forward and grab the back of his shirt and belt, easing his landing so the neighbors won’t hear a thud.
“Wha…” His feet kick without strength.
The initial effect takes twenty seconds, stripping away most of his motor function and his ability to use Command. Full sedation takes hold at sixty. I use his remaining lucidity to swivel my hips and heave him onto the plastic sheet.
His breathing settles into the deep rhythm of chemical unconsciousness as I stand over his prone form, assessing him the same way a butcher selects a cut of meat.
Danny appears smaller while unconscious, the broad shoulders and Alpha build that terrified my sister reduced to dead weight on my tarp.
Crouching, I remove a second device I picked up from the outer pocket of my bag. This one is smaller than the first, and it’s not meant to keep him asleep.
Killing him while unconscious is better than he deserves.
I administer it while his muscles are slack and unresisting, timing it to take hold as the sedative fades. By the time he wakes, his brain won’t be able to signal his body to move, but he’ll have enough awareness to understand what’s happening.
I dispose of the applicator, wipe down the contact point, and zip the bag closed. I also collect the dispenser by the door, tucking it away. No reason to leave more traces than necessary.
I check my watch. The sedative should keep him under for twenty more minutes, though effects vary by body mass and metabolism.
