For some reason, she can't bring herself to go there. What if they hate her? What if she says something stupid? What if they think she's trashy? What would they think of an omega who they met in prison? What if she screws something up and embarrasses her mates and they never want to see her again and abandon her? She wouldn't survive that.
Catharine calls her one day, and the warm whiskey of her voice is soothing. "We have arrested two police officers and three of the guards from the prison on conspiracy and human trafficking charges," she is saying, but Eden cannot hear from the blood rushing through her ears as hollow relief fills her body.
Catharine tells her that she was targeted because they thought she was isolated and no one would come looking for her. She had no family, no mates, no friends, no partners, no roommates. She worked on contracts that only ever covered the semester, not a permanent position.
She was just a lone, vulnerable omega who was seen as prey because she had no one to protect her. The female alpha says that there are other missing omegas just like her, and she tells Eden that she is working on finding them too. The words leave her numb.
Her life passes her by in a weird sort of haze. She does what she said she would, working their case as best as she knows how. She calls lawyers, but none help. She writes to her representatives but doesn't hear back.
Finally, she gets desperate, showing up at the local Veterans Affairs office and asking after their commanding officers. Maybe she could at least get them transferred to a military prison, where they wouldn't be surrounded by as many gang members and where she'd heard they'd get regular family visits at least.
She finally sees results, because the minute she says their names, she gets transferred up the phone tree.
Which was how she finds herself in the office of General Cillian Quinn, the Commandant of the Marine Corps of the United States Army, in a corner office in some huge government complex along the river that she'd had to take four bus transfers to get to.
The man in front of her is huge. Bigger than alpha big. He's built like a brick shithouse, and he looks like he has about as much humour as one too. He's older, maybe in his forties, but he is undeniably handsome.
There's a little white China teacup with pretty swirling blue designs on it set in front of him. The sharp contrast between his huge bulk and the dainty thing in his hand almost makes her laugh, but she doesn't trust that he won't just shoot her in the head with the gun she can see holstered on his hip if she does. He carefully dunks his teabag into the cup three times before removing it and placing it on the saucer.
He is wearing a perfectly cut suit in shades of blue, the jacket buttons making him look even wider than he is. There is violence in every movement of his body, restrained and tidily packaged into this quaint office on the military base that overlooked the water.
"Your message was brief," he says, his baritone voice getting right to the point. "You said you had information about Lieutenants Hendricks, Jameson, and Acosta."
"Yes, sir," she says, her back ramrod straight and her voice tight to her own ears. "I was in prison with them."
His eyebrows go up at that, likely as much of a reaction as she's going to get. His eyes flit over her form, as if verifying that she is as she smells. A female omega in a men's prison.
"It's a long story," she says, her voice wavering. "But they protected me. And I-I wondered if you could get them transferred to a military prison, or somewhere better. They-they're good men, sir, I mean— General— I—"
He cuts them off. "I know who they are, Miss North. You don't need to tell me that."
She nods at him, feeling hope bloom in her chest for the first time since she's left them.
"Why is this the first time I'm hearing about this?" He frowns at her, and she shrinks under his disapproval. "You are correct that they should not be in a public prison."
"I-I don't know, sir. They didn't talk about their case much."
"They don't know you're here." He says it as a statement. She feels her stomach sink, like maybe she's doing something wrong, but she soldiers on, even when all she wants to do is crawl under her chair and cower.
"No, sir. They don't know that I'm here."
There's a long pause.
"What is your involvement in this, Miss North?"
"They're—they're my mates," she stammers. She might as well be honest about it. She somehow doesn't think this man is going toaccept any obfuscation or avoidance from her.
Understanding dawns on his face then, and she thinks she sees something soften in him, if such a man could have any softness. "Ah."
He is quiet for a long moment. Then, in a clear dismissal, he clears his throat. "I will look into this and make some calls, Miss North."
No promises, then. But it was the best chance she'd had in weeks, and she would take that.
Chapter Sixteen
Luke
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