“Good,” Isla continued when no one raised their hand. “We strike at six sharp. Dingly officers at the front, Falkington backing up. Anyone on that property is to be arrested without prejudice, and once the site is secured you are to assist the Environment Agency in whatever way they need. Oh, and wear masks, for the love of God.”
“Look at our girl,” Taylor whispered, inclining his head towards Isla. “Absolutely smashing it.”
Amil tutted. “She’s always been smashing it. It was everyone else that failed to notice.”
“Heard she’s a sigma,” another officer mumbled. “Probably off her rocker.”
All three of them jerked their heads round, Johnny’s eyebrows rising when he spotted the alpha sitting three seats down. He had a blonde buzz cut and a shitty sleeve tattoo on his left arm.
“The fuck do you know?” Amil said, sucking his teeth.
Isla cleared her throat in their direction, frowning as she handed out a list of call signs.
Arsehole, Taylor mouthed.
Everyone started milling around the room, collecting gear and confirming their duties. Isla wandered over, her face flushed and hair a little messy. “Was that okay?” she said, handing each of them a slip of paper with their call signs. “I was really nervous, but hopefully it didn’t show.”
“It didn’t,” Johnny said, squeezing her shoulder. “You did good.”
Amil nodded rapidly. “Really good.”
The car park had an eerily quiet air about it as they all piled into an unmarked riot van. Everyone was in full kit, which left barely any space to breathe. The stench of wound-up alphas was fucking pungent, and Johnny felt Taylor press against him as they set off.
Johnny’s heart was going like the clappers. Something had changed in him after the attack, like his brain had switched off from the job and now all he wanted was to protect the pack. As he’d pulled on his uniform that morning, a deep dread had twisted in his gut, making him hate the thought of coming to work.
Sure, he’d been assaulted on duty before—lots of times, actually, when he was fresh in the job and didn’t fully understand how rapidly shit could hit the fan. But things weredifferent.Theywere different, and he knew Taylor could feel it too.
They weren’t trying to keep up with each other anymore, and Johnny wasn’t waking up feeling drained by his buried feelings. For the last few days Taylor had been reassuring himconstantlyabout tiny, insignificant things. “Breakfast was amazing this morning, JP.” “Looking strong, baby.”
And, in some messed up way, it feltgoodto feel anxious because he realised now that Taylor wasn’t going to lose his shit when Johnny felt that way, and that maybe he didn’t need to be the strong one all the time.
“Alright?” Taylor whispered, squeezing his gloved hand and bringing him back to the present.
Sighing, Johnny squeezed back. “Yeah, I’m good. You sure you’re gonna be okay with Amil and the sarge?”
Taylor grinned. “Oh yeah. We’ve agreed Amil’s going in first. He’ll be like a fuzzy little gremlin rolling in with a pair of bolt cutters.”
Johnny smirked, glancing across the van at Amil, who was in the process of dressing down an alpha who’d dared to get up in his personal space.
They rolled around a corner and cut up onto a narrow track into the woods. Everyone went silent as low-hanging trees brushed the van windows. They’d disguised the van as a courier and blacked out all the windows so no one could see inside. It wasn’t a perfect plan, but the closer they could get to the strike zone without alerting anyone, the better.
The van rolled to a stop, then the sound of heated voices drifted into the back.
“This is it,” Isla whispered, sliding down the visor on her riot helmet. “If they’ve clocked us, we might have to pile out here and run up to the address.”
Taylor let out a breath, tapping the top of Johnny’s helmet with his knuckles. He toed the battering ram at his feet and said, “Don’t worry, me and Big Bee are ready.”
The voices suddenly fell away, the beeps and clicks of walkie-talkies cutting through the quiet before the van juddered and they were on the move again.
Isla let out a shuddering breath. “About thirty seconds,” she whispered, pulling on a face mask. “Mask up.”
“Let’s get this show on the road,” Taylor said, cracking his neck and heaving the battering ram onto one shoulder.
“Stop showing off,” Amil whisper-shouted across from the other side of the van.
Taylor grinned, shaking the battering ram in his direction. “Get some fire in your belly.”
Amil shushed him, waving a hand as he tugged a mask over his chin.
