Cause Ωf Death (Femme Fatale Freakshow)

Chapter 19

T here’s an itch on my back.

Ordinarily, I’d either ignore it or scratch it. But my skin is so sensitive at the moment that I can’t ignore it, nor can I reach to scratch it. It’s located in that one spot on my back that I can’t reach by myself, and it’s driving me bonkers.

“Hey, are you okay there, Kieran?” Kimberly quietly asks. We’re tucked away in one corner of the breakfast nook off the kitchen, having just finished discussing my heat, limits, and boundaries. While Steve and Henley have been dealing with Adam, I’ve managed to come up with a safe word— Ephelba —and admit that I’d like to try pretty much everything with everyone. I don’t want to do any of that gross bodily-fluid play, and the only bloodletting I’ll agree to is the one caused by my alphas—plural—biting me.

From all the yelling and the alpha barks, I get the impression that not only have Adam and Wisp met, but that their introduction may have become a little… shall we say… heated .

Yeah, I know, I’m very punny.

Thankfully, they all seem to have come to an accord of sorts, as their voices are now muted. Adam’s probably gone off to have a cold shower to help clear his head, not that I blame him for being intoxicated by my angel. After all, I’ve been enamored with her since she first appeared like magic in front of me and saved my life.

I wriggle and roll my shoulders, trying to alleviate the irritation to no avail. Whatever is causing the itching is being exacerbated by the fabric of my shirt. This makes no sense because the shirt—one I’ve borrowed from Leslie until I can scrounge up something of my own—is made from supima cotton and is soft and luxuriant to the touch. Nevertheless, there’s something beneath it that is setting my teeth on edge.

“I have an itch, right in the middle of my shoulder blades where I can’t reach, and it’s driving me nuts,” I complain, restlessly shifting in my seat once more.

Kimberly raises one hand, hovering it over my back as she quirks an eyebrow at me.

“May I? I know that sometimes omegas don’t like being touched in the early onset of their heats, so it’s perfectly fine to tell me ‘No’ if you feel that way,” she offers, and I simply bow my head in response.

The pleasure and relief that rushes through me as Kimberly lightly scratches between my shoulders is nearly orgasmic, and the groan that emerges from the depths of my chest does absolutely nothing to hide the fact from anyone watching or listening in.

“Yeah, you’ve got a little lump here, too big for a bug bite. Maybe it’s a piece of grit that we missed when we were cleaning you up earlier? Do you want me to check?”

I nod, too enraptured by Kimberly’s nails to vocalize a response, and shiver as she lifts the shirt, the fabric brushing against my skin in a slow and barely-there caress. Her touch is gentle as she probes around the area, then becomes firmer and more deliberate. I pay her little heed until she speaks once more, this time her tone urgent and worried.

“Kieran, do you have any sort of medical implant at all, including one that could be a slow-release medication of some sort?”

I shake my head in the negative, a tendril of unease unfurling in my gut.

“Have you ever suffered a spinal injury, or required surgery or therapy on your back? What about that?”

Again, I shake my head, and the tendril grows into a writhing mass.

“ HENLEY! ” Kimberly bellows, the sound of rapidly approaching feet thundering through the house before she even finishes his name.

“What, what is it? What’s the matter?” Henley barks, his feet sliding across the hardwood floor as he attempts to stop directly in front of me. He’s not the only one to make a sudden appearance, with Steve and a still-damp Adam not far behind him.

“Adam, good, maybe you can answer this,” Kimberly spits out, jabbing a finger into my back right where the itch is located. “Do you know of any sort of implant or other medical device that Kieran may have need for, one that could explain this very suspiciously shaped lump on his back? There’s no sign of injury or scarring that I can see, and to tell the truth it reminds me of the chip we had implanted in Gizmo’s neck when we had him neutered.”

Microchip.

Implanted.

Fuck me!

Adam’s and my stunned gazes clash, a single thought spearing through my mind. Proving that great minds really do think alike, and that Adam and I share the same thoughts, we both open our mouths and speak with a synchronicity that has to be seen to be believed.

“It’s a tracker.”

Another pattering of footsteps heralds the arrival of Leslie and Wisp, just as Henley asks Adam and me to repeat ourselves.

“My guess is that at some point in my youth, Darla had me stuck with a tracker. If what you suspect is true, then she’d want to keep tabs on me, make sure she could get to me at a moment’s notice, although God only knows why. She’s never shown me any consideration or interest outside of what I can do for her. And while I have no doubt that my father would be willing to chip me, he’d at least have the decency to ask my permission first. Or tell me about it after the fact, if I was too young to consent at the time.”

Two menacing growls ricochet around the room, with both alphas utterly enraged by my words. Even Steve—sweet, easygoing Steve—has a thunderous expression on his face, and his hands are clenched into fists so hard they look like they could pound rocks into nothing but dust.

“So, we’re compromised. What do you want to do, Hen? Should we cut it out and then make a run for it? If we get a move on, we could be out of here and on the road in less than an hour. If Di—uh, if Wisp and Kieran can somehow stave off their heats for another twelve hours, we can help them ride it out in San Diego instead of here.” Leslie’s matter-of-factness helps to ease the tension, although they can’t cancel it out completely.

However, it’s not Henley who ultimately decides our course of action.

“No, we’re not leaving. There’s no time. We’ll have to ride the heats out here. I can feel mine building again, and Kieran doesn’t look too calm, either.” Wisp states, and I frown at the exhaustion lacing her tone.

“Kimberly, can you try and hack into the device while it’s still embedded? We don’t know if it’s monitoring Kieran’s vitals or if it’s simply a location transponder of some sort. Steve, can you interfere with the signal at all? Even if it’s to only decrease the signal’s reach to a smaller radius?” Wisp questions the two, and they galvanize the others into action.

“Good thinking, little Wisp. Steve, focus on blocking the signal if you can, then help Adam and I put this place on lock-down. Kimmy, get your gear down here, see what you can do with the tracker, and then see if you can somehow subvert or piggyback on its signal. If at all possible, I want to know where it’s going to, and who’s responsible for it. If you can somehow back-hack into their systems, or whatever it is you do when you destroy someone’s life, then all the better. Whoever put that thing in Kieran isn’t our friend. Otherwise, Adam would know about it.” Henley spins away from the two, not even questioning whether or not they’ll obey his orders.

“Leslie, can you get a hold of some of our friends, see who’s in the area, and who’s willing and able to assist? We’ll need to intercept any emergency calls coming from the surrounding blocks as well as come up with an emergency that would require our closest neighbors to evacuate. We’ll also need a clean-up crew on standby. Any fucker who steps over the threshold of this house with the intent to harm or steal a member of this family is going to be put down with extreme prejudice.”

Leslie smirks as they nod, clapping first me and then Adam on our shoulders before drawling, “Welcome to the family. You’re now an unofficial Armstrong. We’ll have a celebratory orgy later, once we’ve disposed of all the idiots who are after you. Oh, and by the way,” they pause to tug Wisp into their hold, spinning her in a circle before dipping her back over their arm, “may I officially introduce you both to our lovely omega. You both know her as Wisp, but we all know and love her as Ms. Disa Mariah Aloft. Wisp is her code name, because she’s a fucking wisp on the wind. Oh, and she’s an assassin, so don’t piss her off.”

Having seen her in action, I can’t argue with Leslie there. However, seeing Adam’s reaction to her status?

A woman who is as lethal as she is beautiful, intelligent, and sassy? She couldn’t have made herself more attractive to Adam even if she was presented to him wrapped up like a gift with a massive red bow and armed to the teeth with his favorite knives and guns.

I can’t wait to watch the fallout.

I have no idea what kind of techno-wizard powers Kimberly wields, but it doesn’t take her long to set up a base of operations in the master suite itself. She spreads out over the enormous custom king bed, taking up so much space that some of her equipment winds up on the floor. She has several laptops connecting to one another as she cycles through and enables the different security protocols, her fingers occasionally wriggling through the bars of Gizmo’s cat crate to pet the void kitty. Nobody wants him underfoot or injured, so he’s been locked away for his own safety.

With the rear patio having been bricked up to become another bedroom and bathroom, there are only three entrances into the house itself: the front door, the side door leading out of the laundry room, and the garage. The entire house has been fitted with hurricane-grade roller shutters, the close pattern of the metal grille allowing light and air into the house without reducing the security for those inside. The external doors have also been replaced, the updated entryways made from steel covered with wood paneling. Even the interior garage door has been reinforced.

I guess we have programs like The Walking Dead and the Purge movie franchises to thank that nobody in the neighborhood seems to care that this house has been retrofitted to survive a zombie invasion—or an attack from a group of twisted deviants set on abusing and exploiting vulnerable women, children, and omegas for their dubious pleasures.

Apparently, the house also has two different HVAC systems, with the second one attached to the frame of the roof and disguised as dormer windows. When Kimberly sees my surprise over this revelation, she simply shrugs and tells me, “Easiest way to take someone out is to contaminate their water or air supplies. We have a filtration system fitted, and since we’re on mains water, they can’t really fuck with it unless they want to take out the entire subdivision. So, gassing our air vents is the next best option for them. Lucky for us, Les and I are paranoid survivalist freaks, so we make sure that all our homes have back-up generators, dual fresh air supplies, and that the secondary units are both well disguised and powerful enough to filter out airborne pathogens such as sarin or anthrax.”

Well, that’s not a scary thought.

Not a scary thought at all .

In the hubbub of preparation, I lose track of time. I’ve been kept busy helping first Kimberly set up her temporary workstation, then Leslie with sorting through their contacts, compiling them into two different categories. There’s the discard pile, full of names Leslie’s either been unable to reach at this point, or who are unavailable to assist. Then there’s the list of names who are willing, ready, and waiting for our call to arms. The ones in closest proximity have already let Leslie know that they’re in the vicinity and are on the lookout for suspicious vehicles or activity. There’s another list of names that we’ve palmed off to Kimberly so she can collaborate with them and divert any emergency calls pertaining to us. While she’s managed to trace my tracker back to the Barrow clinic—and probably my mother—the more pressing concern comes from the darker corners of the internet.

Apparently, my buyer is coming for me.

I’m now standing with Steve and Wisp—I mean Disa—and checking over our supplies. We have plenty of food and water—both bottled and filtered from the tap—and Steve is checking through the numerous med-kits. Some of them are high-end generic kits, with anything and everything you could imagine necessary for a simple household. Then there’s the one he pulled out of a battered army trunk. Apparently, this is Henley’s special med-kit, and the one they used when they first patched me up. Some of the items stocked inside I haven’t seen outside of a hospital emergency room, and to say I’m impressed—and a little concerned—is an understatement.

Just what kind of trouble is Henley expecting?

There’s also an abundance of soft furnishings—pillows, cushions, sheets, blankets, duvets, and the like—that are both clean and unscented, perfect for an omega’s nest during a heat. These have all been stockpiled in the master suite, which is thankfully situated at the rear of the house. Since the weakest points of the house are the side with the garage and kitchen, and the bedroom at the front, we’ve gone through the house double-checking that all the windows are secure. Happy with the result, we make sure the lights are off before wedging the doors to the bedrooms and bathrooms shut. When I ask him why, Steve’s answer is simple, yet telling:

“It’s so we can direct the narrative of battle. Short of demolishing the house, if we’re breached they’ll only be able to move in a direction we allow. Plus, they’re likely to cut the external circuit breaker, and if we keep the lights off, we can blind them at the most opportune moment.”

It’s statements like these that make me realize just how coddled and sheltered my life has been. This family, this pack, what must they have already gone through for such contingencies to be planned for? I can’t argue, though, nor do I want to. These decisions have made setting up defensive positions that much easier for us all, and it also means that if Disa and I are instructed to retreat to our nest, then there will be three locked doors between us and the main section of the house. Kimberly will also stand watch to defend us. However, I’m willing to fight, and I’d like to see Henley try and order Disa to hide while her family is fighting on her behalf.

She’ll ignore it and kick ass instead.

I’m riding high on adrenaline, and lucky for me it seems to be keeping the worst of my heat at bay. It’s still there in the background, simmering away, but for now I’m able to think and move without being stranded on the edge of an orgasm. My body is still loose and relaxed to an extent, preparing to both ride and be ridden, but I’m in control. Disa is in a similar state to me, her slick production winding back enough that she’s able to contain it with the pads Henley purchased for her, without too much effort.

It’s the calm before the storm, and Henley has been keeping Adam preoccupied to help contain his alpha urges. I’m sure it’s also helped Henley to stay on track, as it’s either Steve or Leslie who end up mediating between the alphas, Disa, and me.

Done with our checks, we move back inside the master suite, Kimberly ignores us as she mutters and curses over her keyboard. I’m rather abruptly nudged in the side by a large elbow, and I glance at its owner with a questioning look in my eyes.

“Do you know how to shoot, Kieran?” Steve rumbles at me, and I nod. I might not be the most proficient of marksmen, but I can handle a gun.

“I know it’s not the same, but as a teenager I used to play a lot of paintball and laser tag. I’ve also gone out to the shooting range a few times with Adam when he’s needed to keep his hours up to retain his qualifications. It gets boring if you just sit there and watch, so I’d get some practice in as well. While I might not be great with head-shots, I fare decently when the target has a larger center of mass. Say, as in a human torso.”

“Good,” Steve grunts, then slaps a gun into my palm. “This is a Sig Sauer P320 Compact pistol. It’s a nine-millimeter semi-automatic Luger, the magazine holds fifteen rounds.” Steve walks me through the pistol’s various specifications and attributes, showing me how to disengage and re-engage the safety, and how to eject and insert the magazine. He holds out two spares and I take them, putting them to one side as I double-check that the safety is engaged on the gun.

“I’m hoping you won’t need to use them, but I’m also not an idiot. If I leave you unarmed, then it’s guaranteed that you’ll need a weapon of some sort. I also brought you these,” Steve mutters as he pulls out a handful of fabric from one of his pockets.

Taking the material, I shake it out to see that it’s a pair of thermal trousers and a shirt. The material is stretchy, and I look at him in puzzlement.

“They’ll probably be a bit big on you, but these are compression underclothes. They’re designed to help deflect knife blades, and also assist in the suppression of scents. An added bonus is that they’ve got pockets, and you can wear them under the clothes you have on.”

In an instant, I comprehend what Steve is hinting at. These items will not only help protect me and make it harder for an unknown alpha to “sniff” me out, but I can hide the pistol and extra magazines under my clothes without attracting unwanted attention.

I immediately strip down to my briefs, ignoring the fiery blush climbing its way up Steve’s neck and face, tugging the trousers and shirt over my body before redressing in Leslie’s borrowed sweats and shirt. The undergarments fit quite well, if not as tightly as intended, and are a little longer in the arms and legs than I’d prefer. I tuck the pistol in one pocket beneath the sweatpants, the magazines in the pocket on the other side, and then flick the cotton of the T-shirt over my hips, once more covering my body.

“You’re not shy, are you?” Steve chuckles softly, the blush still glowing under his skin.

“I mean, normally I wouldn’t strip down to my skivvies, but I figure if we’re all going to be spending my heat together, it’d be a bit strange if I’m uncomfortable undressing around you.” I reply honestly, to the sound of Disa’s laughter.

“He’s not wrong, Steve. Besides, by the time everything’s all said and done, we’ll be more than well-acquainted with each other’s bodies, down to every last freckle, wrinkle, scar, or blemish. Now that you’ve gotten a glimpse thanks to Kieran’s striptease, is there anything else we need to know? Are Kieran and I allowed to come out with the rest of you, or should we stay shut up in here like the fragile little omegas these assholes are expecting?”

Ooh, Disa has sass , and I’m here for it!

The sigh that heaves its way from Steve’s lungs sounds like it’s come from the depths of the earth itself. “Short-stack, you know it’s not up to me. Henley is our alpha—or at least he will be once everything is finalized—and he’s the one calling the shots. I’m actually surprised that Adam hasn’t tried to take charge, since he’s your bodyguard and all, Kieran. He’s made some suggestions, sure, but it seems like he’s happy enough to follow Henley’s lead, and I for one am grateful that we’re not knee-deep in an alpha pissing-match on top of an incoming incursion.”

As though speaking of the imminent attack has brought it to fruition, the power goes out.

They’re here.