Page 115 of Pack Rivals, Part One

"York Pack picked her up?"

"Yeah," Silver growls. "Trent followed her to the party and back to her apartment later. Johnson stayed to watch the apartment. He claims no one suspicious came in or out of the apartment during that time. No one who would have alerted him to a break-in."

I shake my head. "Shit, your men are crap, Silver."

"They're both suspended," Silver tells me, looking mightily pissed off. He prides himself on delivering the most comprehensive security service in the city. He doesn't like fuck ups. Especially when they affect our omega.

"I'd fire their asses," I tell him.

"Let's go up and look." We don't have a key or a code but that doesn't stop Silver. I stand back and wait for him to do his stuff. A couple of minutes later we're inside the omega's apartment.

It's just as she described it – trashed. Objects and belongings strewn across the floor.

"Almost looks like they were searching for something," Silver muses, stepping through the mess.

"Yeah, Bea," I say darkly.

"Hmmm," Silver says. "You recognize the scents?"

I inhale closing my eyes. I've always had the most sensitive sense of smell in our pack, an attribute Silver has often taken advantage of. There're two scents, although both are difficult to understand because of too much chemical interference. "Blockers," I mumble, "they're on blockers."

"Interesting."

Most of the less scrupulous alphas and their packs in this city aren't bothered about curbing their scents or their instincts. They don't use the chemical blockers as some macho matter of principle.

I hone in on the stronger scent, mostly because the second one is confusing, almost … sweet. The dominant one … there's something there … if I can just reach it …

"Nutmeg."

"You recognize it?"

"No."

"I'll check our database."

We pick our way through the trash, searching for anything else. But there's nothing. Not even a fingerprint.

"They were wearing gloves," Silver tells me. "Which means these weren't hired thugs. These were professionals."

"Why trash the place though? If they'd left it untouched, they could have come back another time to grab our girl."

Silver's eyes dart around the apartment and then he strides back to Bea's room. "I don't know, man, but I don't like it."

He scratches at his chin.

It smells less violated in her room, the aroma of her sugary scent in the air and in the fabrics. It smells so damn good and neither of us move until Silver's phone chirps in his pocket. He answers it and I listen to him grunt along to some information relayed to him down the receiver.

"Send it over. I want to take a look."

"What is it?" I ask, when he hangs up.

"Surveillance footage of the front of the apartment."

I grin. "You've been filming her too? She's going to go livid when she finds out."

"I wanted to keep her safe." Which considering the circumstances was not a bad call.

He flicks his thumb against his phone screen, then beckons me over.

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