Most crews stack themselves with Alphas andmuscle, treating Omegas as fragile assets or bargaining chips. Rowan’s people break the mold, though. Here, Omegas aren’t protected. They stand on equal footing.
Suddenly, I understand why Rowan believed in my skills so fast.
“We take contracts,” Rowan continues. “Most of them are legitimate. Security consulting. Private investigations. Data recovery.”
My attention snaps back to him.
“And the rest?”
Rowan’s smile is slow and unapologetic. “The rest are the kinds of jobs people can’t take to the police.”
My pulse ticks faster.
“And you trust all of them with that?”
Rowan’s expression softens a little. “I trust them with my life.”
He squeezes my shoulder once.
“And now,” he adds, “I trust them with yours.”
The air shifts near the back door, currents disturbed by someone who slips into a room without announcing themselves. The conversations around me continue, but the atmosphere changes, a subtle tightening of awareness that spreads from person to person like a ripple in still water.
Ghost’s eyes flick toward the entrance first,followed by Saint, then Kain. I turn as the door closes without a sound.
A man stands at the back wall, so still that he could go unnoticed if he weren’t so striking. Tall and lean, with shoulders pulling his simple black Henley taut across his chest. His face is all angles, with high cheekbones, a straight nose with a slight bump suggesting it’s been broken at least once, and a jaw that could cut glass.
He wears his dark hair cropped military-short on the sides but longer on top. A thin white scar bisects his left eyebrow, disappearing into the hairline. His pale gray eyes scan the room before landing on me with unsettling focus.
Nothing about his clothing would stand out in a crowd, but the way he holds himself demands attention.
“Orien,” Rowan acknowledges, an edge beneath the surface calm that wasn’t there with his other crew members. “Good to see you decided to join us.”
Orien’s jaw tightens. “Still mad, I see.”
“This is Ash,” Rowan continues, ignoring the comment. “He’s taking over our security systems. Ash, this is Orien, my second in command, and our cleaner.”
The cleaner. The man who handled theaftermath of Danny’s death, who made a body disappear but missed Danny’s wallet, which had my sister’s name in it. And there’s tension between him and Rowan.
Orien doesn’t respond right away. He studies me with the detached interest of someone assessing a tool for its usefulness. Not hostile, but not friendly either. Just calculating. The room grows quieter as the silence stretches, conversations tapering off as the tension spreads.
“You’re the locksmith,” he finally says, almost gently if not for the steel underneath.
I nod, not trusting myself to speak.
Orien pushes off from the wall and approaches with unhurried steps. When he stops before me, close enough for me to catch his scent, it’s absolutely neutral. No Alpha pheromones, nothing giving away his designation.
“Next time you leave a body in my city,” Orien says, “try not to make so much work for me.”
My jaw tightens. “If your cleanup had been thorough, the cops wouldn’t be circling my sister right now.” The words come out like ice chips. “I planned that kill down to the millimeter. What I didn’t plan on was someone missing a wallet.”
The room goes silent, Angel’s laugh cutting offmid-sound. Silas straightens, and Kain’s hand pauses mid-air, drink suspended.
Orien’s face doesn’t change, but a dangerous glint fills his eyes. “You think you know what thorough looks like?”
“I know what sloppy looks like.” I step close enough to catch that neutral scent. “And it has Vartanian’s people questioning my baby sister.”
“Which is my fault, and we will fix it.” Rowan places his hand on my shoulder. “Ash will be joining us here to handle our security. Hopefully, once we handle the current situation, we can all be a big, happy family.”
