With the boats in position around the city, Marcos and his team settled in to wait. The base for the joint rescue operations had been set up at the presidential residence. It's location on the hill overlooking Main Street was ideal for those in charge of coordinating the relief efforts. The police, emergency personnel, and coast guard volunteers were all sheltered within the large dining hall as the storm hit.

Wind and rain slammed against the building and rattled the storm shutters that had been locked in place over the windows. A few minutes later, the power died.

Backup generators kicked into gear quickly, but Marcos was keenly aware of the fact that the rest of the island was now without power. He knew that the shelters had each been provided with a generator, but most of them would wait to start them up until the worst of the storm had passed. They would have to conserve fuel for as long as possible which meant much of the next several hours, possibly days, would be spent in the dark.

Personnel from the weather station had set up in one of the residence's empty offices. Their frequent reports placed the storm firmly in category four with winds gusting up to 130 miles per hour.

Without power, cell service failed. Landlines would be compromised thanks to the ferocity of the storm. The only method of communication left to them was radio. The coast guard radio dispatch, who were camped out in one of hallways, were already beginning to receive radio distress calls from people trapped in the storm.

"We can't risk sending anyone out there," Andrea Barca said as she leaned over the large dining table and stared down at the maps spread across its surface. "The storm is too dangerous and it's only barely gotten started. If we send people out there now then we're putting their lives at risk as well. We'll end up losing everyone."

"We can't just leave them out there," protested Marcos, clutching the back of a chair until his knuckles turned white. "There's a chance they won't make it if we wait."

"They knew the risks that the storm would pose," said Andrea. She shook her head and frowned. "I can't allow you, or your men, to put their lives in danger. We're going to need your help after the storm. There are too few of you and we can't afford to lose any."

Marcos knew that she was doing her best to minimize casualties. He could tell by the look in her eyes that she was just as vexed by the situation as he was. However, he also knew that he would never be able to live with himself if he didn't try to do something.

"They're on Main Street, less than four blocks away. I can get to them and get back in less than ten minutes," countered Marcos.

"Normally, yes, but have you looked outside?" Andrea crossed the hall to the large exterior doors and unlatched them. Before she could begin to open them, a gust of wind threw them open. They crashed against the interior walls and rain and wind began a violent assault on those sheltering within.

It took several people to wrestle the heavy doors shut once more. Everything within several feet of the door was drenched.

"You wouldn't make it five feet in wind like that. Even if you did, it's high tide. Coupled with the storm surge, Main Street is completely underwater. Those people are safer in their second story apartments than they would be wading back through flooded streets." Andrea frowned and shook her head as she walked back to the table. She was soaked from her demonstration, water dripped from her hair, and there was frustration in her eyes.

"We stay put until the winds die down. We can't put any more lives at risk," she continued. "Please, try to understand."

Marcos nodded silently and withdrew from the table. This wasn't his first hurricane. Living on an island in the Caribbean meant that you dealt with hurricanes and tropical storms at least once a year or so. This was his first hurricane in a position of authority. It was also the first time he had felt so helpless. Every other hurricane he had ever been in, his only concern had been himself, his family, and his friends. He had done everything in his power to help them prepare and had helped them rebuild once it was over.

Now, however, he was responsible for so much more. He had put so much time and effort into preparing for this storm and yet he had never felt less prepared. The worst part was that he wouldn't even be able to begin helping until after the wind died down.

All he could do is sit and wait and hope that everyone outside of the shelters had managed to get to safety.

"Marcos, come sit with us." Dominic was sitting against the wall with Ramos on the far side of the room. He looked pale, worry filled his eyes, yet somehow he seemed to be forcing himself to smile.

"I don't understand how you're so calm," Marcos admitted as he sat down beside the other two alphas. "You both have omegas out there in this."

"They're safe," said Ramos. "The soup kitchen is a solid building that's above the flood level. They're doing their part to help out. You can't let yourself think about what ifs. That's a great way to drive yourself crazy and get distracted from your job."

"Besides, it's not like we're the only ones," said Dominic with more confidence than Marcos had expected from him. "I saw you kissing that omega in the bar before we left this morning. I think Miguel knows him from somewhere, but I've never met him."

Marcos felt equal parts embarrassed and proud that he had been seen with Raphael. He wanted everyone to know that Raphael belonged to him, by his side, as his partner. Yet, with things still somewhat uncertain between them, he hadn't been prepared to tell anyone else about the promises they had made to one another. Not until after they had had an opportunity to talk about it some more.

"He's...he's volunteering at the soup kitchen today too," said Marcos, trying to push back the lump of unresolved emotion welling in his throat.

"Then he's in good company," said Ramos. "Lupita will make sure he's safe. Plus he'll be with Logan and Miguel. I don't think you have anything to worry about."

Despite their words, Marcos could tell that his companions were just as worried as he was. The only difference was that they were both pushing their worry aside. They had both made open commitments to their omegas and yet somehow they were doing their best not to let the emotional turmoil inside of them overtake their ability to reason.

"Save your strength," Ramos continued. "They're estimating it'll be at least ten hours before the winds die down. You'll need to be at your best when the time comes." The detective reclined against the wall and appeared to let his eyes drift closed. Was he taking a nap?

"I'm going to chalk it up to a cop thing," said Dominic with a shrug. "There's no way I'm getting any sleep right now."

Marcos nodded in agreement. He was still struggling to push his worry aside. Raphael's fear of water must have been making the omega's life a living hell right about now.

"Why don't we play cards?" Dominic suggested, reaching out and clapping a hand on Marcos' shoulder. He must have noticed that his fellow alpha was at risk of getting caught in a cycle of worry. "I bet we can get a few more people together and play a game of poker or something."

Marcos forcibly dragged his thoughts back to the present. He needed to stay grounded in what was going on around him right here and now. He would see Raphael again when this was all over. He had promised.