Page 63 of Hunting Their Omega

“The signal for the first four has been scrambled,” Valor said with calculated efficiency. “The fifth is still in the primed location, so I have reason to believe the others are the same.”

“What do you think is holding them up?”

“Hard to say. We’ve never been this deep.”

True. Infiltrating the Council had never been done—not successfully, at least. But we knew that when we looked at our options. It was the only way to get the answers if we wanted to forge alliances with the other sanctioned packs. As shitty as it was, they wouldn’t go against the Council over the word of a few Omegas. It would be hard to convince the other packs to side with us even if wedidfind evidence.

Frustration brewed within me. The hand’s delayed response didn’t align with their usual efficiency. I paced along the path, contemplating unforeseen complications or potential dangers. What the hell was going on?

“Commander, what are your orders?” Valor asked.

“We wait. I don’t want to jeopardize their cover if the hand hasn’t made contact. Until then, prepare a second team for an extraction if needed.”

“Yes, sir.”

The line went dead, but I remained anchored in place.

My Enforcers’ unusual behavior and uncharacteristic silence painted a troubling picture. I couldn’t ignore the possibility of betrayal. Perhaps the Council had an unexpected hold on my Enforcers. The timing was too coincidental to be dismissed as a mere fluke.

Dread settled within my chest. My Enforcers could be compromised, and our plan to infiltrate the Council’s ranks would have dire ramifications if discovered.

The Council’s methods were insidious, their motives murky and dangerous. We couldn’t allow more wolves to suffer because the sanctioned packs and their Alphas failed to take a stand. Hidden Creek needed people within their borders.

Isolde’s revelation about her past broke through my apprehension. She had confided in us, revealing that she was forcibly separated from her family at the tender age of six. My heart clenched. What percent of pups were born Omegas?

Bile rose in my throat. How many siblings did I have? Did we all have sisters who were lost forever outside pack walls? How many had we never spoken about?

A sense of urgency propelled me into action. I reached for our bond while sprinting back to the house, calling Bishop and Wynn home. I knew what we had to do. I pieced together the beginnings of a plan to safeguard Isolde and fortify our defenses—one that other packs could use as well.

My comms unit chirped.

“What’s wrong?” Wynn asked.

“Get Bishop,” I said. “I need you both at the house now.”

Chapter 23

Isolde

As I gardened, my nails and skin became stained with soil. Sweat coated my brow, and I wiped at it with my wrist before it could drip into my eyes. It was a warm day, and I silently thanked the Goddess. I doubted yard work would be much fun in the cold.

My week flew by in a whirlwind of activity. I’d barely seen Wynn, Alaric, or Bishop, save for breakfast and dinner. They were entrenched in pack affairs, and I was left out once again. I tried not to let it bother me, but the secrecy tightened my chest.

Even during morning training, Alaric was frustratingly tight-lipped. I spent my days helping the women of Hidden Creek with their responsibilities, which kept me busy. It also gave me the opportunity to grow closer to my pack members.

I found myself in the lush garden of Bishop’s spirited great-aunt that afternoon, diligently replanting vegetables that had been left unattended for far too long.

The elderly woman, affectionately known as Aunt Eileen, was a force to be reckoned with. Her mischievous smiles gave her a youthful air, but her gray hair and frail body betrayed her age. Even so, shifters aged slowly, and she could have been well into her hundreds. The only other shifter I’d seen close to her age was the ancient Council member at the Hunt.

Aunt Eileen had talked me through everything from her fence repairs to the correct ways to germinate her precious seedlings. I admired her resilience and vibrant personality. Her joyful banter and quick wit made me feel like I was finally finding my place in Hidden Creek.

“You sure do have a knack for this.” Aunt Eileen chuckled, observing my care for the delicate seedlings. “You remind me of the days when I was knee-high in the garden, trailing after my daddy and trying to understand how he knew when the plants were just right for harvesting.”

I grinned. “Well, I’m learning from the best, Aunt Eileen. I’ve heard quite a bit about your legendary green thumb.”

The older woman cackled, her laughter echoing through the garden like wind chimes. “Legendary, you say? More like stubborn as an old oak tree! But thank you, dear. Pass me those seeds, will you?” She hiked her dress to her knees and sank into the dirt beside me. “Let’s see if we can make these veggies grow taller than me!”

“Well, that shouldn’t be too hard,” I said with a laugh, pouring seeds into her outstretched hand.

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