Page 102 of Hunted Omega: Part Two

“I know,” I say, my voice tight, “but I need to know what’s going down at dock twenty-seven tonight.”

The craving slams into me like a physical blow, my mouth watering at the mere thought of alcohol. For a heartbeat, I’m back in that dark place, drowning my sorrows and guilt in the bottom of a bottle, but then I think of my pack, of Aria, and all the omegas counting on us. I can’t let them down. I won’t.

There’s a rustling sound on the other end followed by the click of a lighter. I picture Ricky hunched over his computer, smoke curling around his fingers as he types.

“Alright, give me a minute,” he mutters.

My leg bounces nervously as I wait, adrenaline coursing through my veins. The cravings intensify, a gnawing ache in my gut that I push aside. Not now. I can’t afford to lose focus.

I shake my head violently, sending a whiff of my own anxious scent to my nostrils.

“Got something,” Ricky says after what feels like an eternity. “Cargo ship coming in at three tomorrow morning. Officially, it’s listed as agricultural supplies, but my sources say it’s way too hush-hush for that. Armed guards, restricted access… Definitely not your standard produce delivery.”

My heart races. This is it. “Thanks, Ricky. I owe you one.”

“You owe me several, kid. And Dash? Be careful. Whatever this is, it’s big. Dangerous.”

I end the call, my mind whirling. Three in the morning tomorrow. That’s less than twenty hours away. I need to move fast.

Hours blur together in a haze of phone calls and data analysis. With each piece of evidence I uncover, the full scope of Noah’s operation becomes clearer and more terrifying. This isn’t just some small-time trafficking ring. It’s a vast network with tendrils reaching into law enforcement, politics, and even international crime syndicates.

As the first rays of dawn peek through the blinds, painting my cluttered desk in streaks of pale gold, I finally uncover the smoking gun—financial records linking Noah directly to the trafficking operation. My hand shakes as I reach for my phone, the case slick with sweat.

“Dash?” Malachi is alert despite the early hour, his rich timbre grounding me. “What’s wrong?”

“Mal, I’ve uncovered a nightmare. Get everyone here, now.”

Within minutes, the pack crowds into my office. The air thickens with tension and mingled scents. Body heat raises the temperature, making the small space feel even more claustrophobic.

I inhale deeply, letting the cocktail of pack scents center me. “Noah’s operation,” I begin, my voice steadier than I feel, “isn’t just local. It’s international. He’s been trafficking omegas on a massive scale, using political connections to avoid detection.”

I pull up the evidence and walk them through my discoveries, noticing how the pack instinctively draws closer. Zane’s hand finds its way to Aria’s lower back, a gesture of both comfort and protection. His jaw clenches, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

Quinn’s fingers twitch, and I can practically see the gears turning in his brain. “The encryption on these files,” he mutters, leaning in closer. “It’s military grade. How did you… Actually, never mind. I don’t want to know, but I’m impressed.”

Despite the gravity of the situation, I can’t help but feel a small surge of pride at Quinn’s words.

“You’ve done well, Dash,” Malachi says, his voice steady but tinged with concern. “But we’re venturing into treacherous waters. The risks here are immense.”

Aria’s eyes meet mine, a mix of horror and fierce determination on her face that makes my chest tighten. We’ve come so far from the broken individuals we once were.

“This ends tonight,” Aria says, her voice low but steely. “No more omegas will suffer while we sit on our hands.”

Her words hit me like a sucker punch, forcing the air from my lungs. How many times had I turned a blind eye to omegas suffering? How many times had I been complicit through my silence and inaction?

“We’re going to stop him,” I say, surprised by the fierce conviction in my voice. “We’re going to bring this whole operation down.”

Malachi’s eyes meet mine, his gaze heavy with unspoken questions. “You uncovered crucial information, Dash,” he says, measuring each word. “But this isn’t just about the data. I need to know, with absolute certainty, that you can navigate this without losing yourself. We can’t afford any… setbacks.”

I know what he’s really asking. Can I handle this without falling off the wagon? Can I face the darkness without drowning in it?

My hand slips into my pocket, my fingers closing around my sobriety chip. The metal is warm, its raised edges familiar against my fingertips. Six months clean. One hundred and eighty-two days of fighting, of choosing to be better.

“Bring on the storm,” I say, gripping the chip like a lifeline. “I’ve weathered worse.”

I feel the weight of everyone’s gaze. Zane’s eyes narrow, concern flickering in their depths. Quinn gives me a small nod, his faith in my abilities clear. Aria steps closer, her scent wrapping around me like a comforting blanket.

“You’ve earned this, Dash,” she says softly. “We believe in you.”

---