Chapter Five
Jethro
Roman, Blaise, and I sat up all night making plans. If I was going to make a move, it would need to be soon. Roman had an uncle who did business in the South, so he could come up with transit papers. I’d have to borrow his ID too. We were cousins and looked alike enough that it would pass a cursory inspection. There was no way I could travel on my own ID. Alphas with active marks weren’t allowed to cross the border. There had been incidents.
“Are you sure one of us shouldn’t come with you?” Blaise asked. Us meaning him.
“No. I’m safer alone. I’m not dragging you down with me if this goes South.” Blaise rolled his eyes at my pun.
“I don’t know,” Roman said dryly. “I think you having my ID and a travel permit from my uncle’s business probably implicates me and the rest of the family.”
“I’ll tell them I stole them. The authorities will believe that, especially if we leave no paper trail.”
“Okay, so you cross the border, go to the Intake Center, and what, ask them nicely to give you your Omega?”
“I’m going to break in and steal him.”
“You’re going to break into a secure facility and smuggle someone out?”
“Exactly.”
“What if he doesn’t want to come?” That was Roman, playing Devil’s advocate as always.
“Yeah, like there’s an Omega on the planet who wouldn’t jump at the chance to get out of a place like that,” Blaise said with a laugh.
“Yes. The hard part will be getting in there, not getting out.”
Even as I said it, there was a hint of doubt in the back of my mind. During his speech, he’d seemed so sure, so devoted. If he was a true believer in their cause, I wasn’t sure I could get him out.
“The hard part will be getting back over the border with him. As soon as they realize he’s gone, they’ll be on high alert,” Roman said. “The whole country will be locked down tight.”
“I’ll just have to get him back across before they realize he’s missing.” What could be simpler?
It took another day to get everything in order, the ID, the transit papers, the visa. And, of course, to borrow the van from Roman’s uncle and get it ready.
The border crossing went off without a hitch. I drove my van up, handed over Roman’s ID, tipped my cap, and smiled at the guard. We exchanged pleasantries, and I answered a few questions about my business down south.
“Have a safe trip, sir,” the officer said and waved me on.
The clock had started.
There were no half-measures here. I couldn’t afford that. So I scoped out the area around the Intake Center and found a safe place to leave my vehicle, out of sight of the road and passersby. Then I returned to the Center on foot, armed with a set of binoculars, wire cutters, and my gun, and watched.
I took note of everything; the number of exits, the windows, the parking lots, the guards and their shift changes. I’d only have one shot at this. It was ‘do it right the first time or die trying’. I knew the guards would have shoot-on-sight orders for anyone attempting to force entrance into the base. Of course, I had no intention of forcing my way in.
It was the evening of the following day before I was ready to put my plan into action. I had found a parking lot some distance from the Center, for civilian employees. Medical staff, maybe. There was some sort of shift change at seven but that was too early for my needs, the day still too bright. At ten o’clock there was a smaller shift change and I watched carefully, keeping my eye on those that returned to the parking lot. The cars were clustered together, providing me with some cover. My mark chose themselves, rather than the other way around.
A woman, wearing a white uniform, got as far as her car and stopped, throwing her keys and ID badge onto the roof as she rummaged through her bag. She pulled out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter, lighting one up. I was trying to work out a way to distract her, to get her away from the car, when another employee entered the lot.
“Hey, Maggie. You got a light?”
Maggie wandered over to him and they started chatting. It was the work of moments to get to her car and extract her ID card from the lanyard it was attached to. I left the plastic holder upside down, so she wouldn’t notice the card missing. With any luck, by the time she realized it was gone, it would be too late for anyone to do anything.
I retreated back into the forest, waiting until the guard’s shift change at eleven. There’d be a ten-minute gap in the patrols. And another gap two hours later, owing, I guessed, to breaks or nighttime laziness. That would be our window for getting back out unnoticed.
Eleven p.m. came and I jogged to the fence and climbed over it, careful to avoid the barbed wire wrapped around the top. The wire cutters were for the way out and only if we needed them. I couldn’t risk a gap in the fence being spotted while I was still inside.
There was a side entrance I’d seen the civilian staff use and that would be my entry point. It was set at an angle and I hadn’t had a clear view of the door itself so there were two things I couldn’t check: the presence of a keypad, or a camera. There was one of both, the keypad recessed into the wall, the camera pointed at an angle.
I snorted when I saw the technology they were using and pulled out my phone. The North had an app for that. Military grade, of course. And not something that I should officially have had access to outside of my work. But these were exceptional circumstances so I made an exception.
It was the work of minutes to loop the camera feed. That was the easy part. The keypad wasn’t so easily fooled. It needed a six-digit code and I didn’t have one. There were a million possible permutations. I twirled the card between my fingers trying to decide what to do. If I started poking around with the electronics, there was a strong possibility I’d-
Huh.
There was a number scrawled on the back of the card, in permanent marker. It couldn’t be that easy, could it?
Swiping the card on the reader, I typed in the code. The red light turned to green and there was an audible click from the door. I was in.
I had no idea what the layout of the Center was like, so I ducked into the first stairwell I saw. That was the helpful thing about stairwells. They tended to be quiet and full of useful information. Like fire escape maps of the building. I scanned the display on the wall, looking for one word. Processing.
Basement. Of course.
I hoped no one was keeping a close eye on the card access through the building, otherwise they might start to wonder why the staff member who’d gone home two hours before was wandering around still. There were no cameras though. Either they were secure in their belief that the building was impenetrable or they didn’t want video evidence of what went on here. My bet was on the latter.
There were people down on the basement floor; staff chatting quietly in an office at one end of a corridor. I wondered how often they did checks. There was an open computer terminal on the wall and I glanced at the screen. Three rooms were occupied on this floor. The first two were not of interest to me, I could only safely move one person. The third was Miles Benson, my Omega. There was an i next to his name. I clicked on it. An isolation protocol. Better and better. They weren’t doing checks. Only Alphas permitted in the room and only on a schedule. There was nothing I liked better than a schedule. Or, at least, running roughshod over one.
Isolation room five was at the opposite end of the corridor. Checking on the staff again, confident they weren’t planning on going for a stroll anytime soon, I went in search of Miles.
The door to room five was solid steel, no windows. I opened it, a burst of cold air hitting me as the weak light from the corridor snaked inside the pitch black room. I felt along the outside wall for a light switch before stepping inside and pulling the door over behind me but not letting it close. I didn’t want the light to be visible from the corridor. Neither did I want to lock myself in there with him.
The room slowly filled with light. Huddled in one corner, naked and trembling, was the Omega I’d glimpsed on TV only days before. He was barely recognizable, his hair shorn, his face hidden behind his arms, bruises and dirt smudged across his body.
“Miles?” My voice was a rough whisper.
“No, no more, please,” he begged, his voice hoarse, the sound grating.
“Miles, my name is Jethro. I’m… I’m your Alpha.” In for a penny, in for a pound, as they used to say.
He didn’t look at me, curling tighter into himself. “Please, I can’t take anymore.”
I didn’t think he could hear me. Was he delirious? I cross the room in two strides, dropping into a crouch beside him. We didn’t have time for this.
“I’m your Alpha. I’ve come to get you out. But if we’re going to leave here, we have to go now.” Time was ticking away.
He was still hiding his face from me.
I grabbed his arm, pulling it away from his head and ignoring the whimper it provoked. Holding my arm next to his, I prompted him gently.
“Look. See? We’re a match, a pair.”
He glanced down at our arms, his eyes widening. “Who are you?”
“I told you. Jethro, your Alpha. I’m from the North. I’ve come to take you out of here.”
Another long moment passed as he stared at my face.
“We’ve got to go,” I said, releasing my grip on his arm and getting to my feet. He had to be willing. There was no way I was getting out of here with him fighting me every step of the way.
“I can’t,” he said, his voice full of misery. “This is my duty, my purpose. This is what I am.”
I closed my eyes for a moment, feeling the full force of his pain. Opening them, I held out my hand for him to take, my shining mark clearly visible.
“You can be more.”
He stared at me openly as everything else fell away. And then he placed his hand in mine.