Page 38 of Fired at the Heart

“Sebastian thinks the Omegas are being kept here.” Raphael indicates a section at the back of the warehouse. “Reinforced doors, separate ventilation system.”

“Like a prison.” I study the layout. “Or a kennel.”

The words hang in the air. These people aren’t just trafficking Omegas. They’re treating them like animals. Anger rises, clean and sharp, cutting through the confusion of my personal feelings.

“What’s the approach?” Jace asks, all business despite his earlier hostility.

Raphael straightens, leaning back against the weapons lockers to address the whole group. “Three teams. First team takes out the exterior guards and security systems. Second team breaches and clears the main floor. Third team extracts the Omegas.”

While Raphael explains the plan, Ezra moves through the logistics, clearly already ten steps ahead, fielding questions, pulling data, adjusting strategy. Where Raphael pushes, Ezra calibrates. It’s not rivalry, it’s two versions of leadership, and one is bleeding trust while the other is building it.

Case in point, the division of assets.

Cassian’s chin juts out. “And who decides these teams?”

Raphael shrugs. “I assumed we’d play to everyone’s strengths.”

“Our strengths,” Rico interrupts, gesturing between himself, Lena, Jace, and Cassian, “include not taking orders from people who abandoned us.”

The temperature in the van drops. Caleb’s hand moves toward his weapon, while Ezra tilts his head to the side, filing the insult away for later review, or deciding whether it’s worth a response now. His calm is the kind that makes people nervous. He’s not indifferent, he’s strategizing, and I see a younger Raphael in him.

“We don’t have time for this,” I cut in before the situation escalates. “Lena, you’re our best distance shot. You’ll take position here and cover the exterior.” I point to a building across from the warehouse. “Rico, you and Jace take point on the breach. Cassian, you’re with me on extraction.”

I pause, then look at the Rockford contingent. “Caleb, you know Jade best. You come with me and Cassian for extraction. Raphael and Ezra, you support Rico and Jace on the main floor.”

Cassian’s lips lift in satisfaction at being paired with me, while Raphael’s expression tightens. It’s the logical division, putting people where they’ll be most effective, but I can’t deny the small, petty pleasure of not giving Raphael what he wants.

Ezra doesn’t protest the assignment, but his gaze lingers a second too long on me, filing away a variable he’s not done with yet. It makes me want to recruit the kid. He’s wasted on the box the Rockfords are trying to fit themselves inside.

“Equipment?” Lena asks, already preparing for her role.

Ezra pulls up another screen showing a weapons inventory. “We’ve got suppressors for everyone, flash-bangs, breaching charges. Comms are encrypted and short-range. Sebastian’s got a jamming signal ready to block their security system when we move in.”

The clinical discussion of weapons and tactics brings with it a familiar focus. This is what we do. This is what I built after Raphael left, an operation that runs like clockwork, with people who understand their roles and execute them without question. My breathing steadies as we move into the territory where I’m most confident.

“I’ll take my Remington.” Lena studies the specs on her tablet, her fingers moving across the screen with practiced precision, and the blue light catches on calluses formed by years of pulling triggers. “The night scope with infrared.”

“Shotgun for me.” Rico grins, the expression all teeth and anticipation. “Nothing says ‘surprise’ like a door blown off its hinges.”

We continue detailing loadouts, each person selecting their preferred weapons with the care of artists choosing instruments. Through it all, Cassian maintains his position at my side, his body angled toward me, creating a space that excludes Raphael. It’s subtle but unmistakable, and I grit my teeth at the implied claim.

Rico was right. Cassian is trying to take Raphael’s place, and he’s getting impatient now with the other Alpha’s right in front of him.

When I reach across to point at an entry point on Caleb’s screen, Cassian’s hand finds the small of my back, steadying me with a touch that lingers. Raphael tracks the movement, his jaw tightening.

Raphael studies the layout. “We’ll need to move fast once we’re inside. If they get any warning, they might decide the Omegas are a liability.”

The implication hangs in the air. These people might kill their captives rather than risk them being rescued.

“What about their manpower?” Jace asks.

“Sebastian estimates fifteen to twenty guards, plus whatever administrative staff they have on site,” Ezra replies.

“That’s a lot for a warehouse,” Lena observes.

“Not if what they’re storing is valuable,” I say quietly.

Cassian’s hand moves from my back to my shoulder, a gesture that could appear supportive to anyone watching but carries a weight of possession I resent.

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