Simple plan.
In, out.
No killing, no mess.
And it was actually fucking working.
There was one more guard than we’d thought—a newbie to Anarchy, probably trying to get in good with the Redgraves early—but he’d been easy enough to manage.
The alpha Vandle knocked out might have a bit of long-lasting damage to either his brain or trachea, but he’d live.
And he hadn’t lost his shit and gone feral while choking the life out of the alpha, which proved he was about as stable as any once-feral alpha could ever be.
We didn’t have to worry about him. Karma had been working hard to get the instability out of his system, but I was secretly glad he was the one staying back to protect Crescent.
Our only barrier to safety were these damn contacts.
Quietly, not wanting to draw any attention from alphas still wandering the halls after the nightly lockdown, Vandle unlocked the door to the contraband room. The door swung open with a creak.
I reached in to pat the wall beside the entrance, finding a switch that turned on flickering tube lights along the ceiling.
“Damn. This room isstacked,” Sin said. “No wonder they have so much sway.”
Through the metal door there were piles and piles of boxes, the tallest stacks reaching up to the ceiling. They were labelled, but it looked like it was done in code—however they were labelled, I didn’t fucking understand it.
If we have to rifle through every box in this place, well… it’ll take all fucking night, but we’ll do it.
“Tie the guards up so they aren’t a problem if they wake up.” I tossed Vandle the rope we’d brought with us. If the contacts had been easy to find, we wouldn’t need to do that—they’d be out for five minutes, for sure.
Longer? We couldn’t guarantee it.
But as long as they were hog-tied to a pipe, we’d have time to knock them out again before they became a problem.
I ran my fingers along the top of a cardboard box as I stepped into the room. It wasn’t taped shut; none of them were. Waste of tape, really. I flipped open one of the flaps, a pair of silk boxers staring up at me from inside.
Some people are really living it up in here, apparently.
Probably an order for some dweller pack alpha—one who doesn’t like chafing.
My rough cotton boxers seemed to scrape against my skin, and I clenched my hand into a fist to suppress the urge to pocket them.
We weren’t here to steal anything else from the Redgraves. All we needed were the contacts that Dominic had tried to set an astronomical price for.
Sin and Vandle shoved past me, tossing their guesses back and forth on how the organizational system in here worked—though both of them only came up with nonsensical answers.
From the looks of it, a lot of the stock wasn’t glamorous—bedding, pillows, extra clothing, but I occasionally stumbled upon a more interesting item.
As I lifted the box with the underwear up to get to the one underneath, the shiny fabric taunted me again. But it wasn’t until I lifted the flap of the box below only to find more pairs in a deep navy blue, that I caved.
You know what?
Dominic had been a real piece of shit, asking for my omegas to get in a cage the second time?
Fuck him.
I grabbed two pairs of silky boxers, store tags still attached, and shoved them into my pockets.
Even if wedidget out of here, it was unlikely we’d have enough money for nice clothing anytime soon.