Vonn: The Boundarylands Omegaverse: M/F Alpha Omega Romance by Callie Rhodes (13 inch ebook reader .TXT) 📗

from view of the technicians, Cavendish watched the goings-on in the lab through one-way glass.

He was already aware notified of the situation with Clarke, of course. Fulmer didn't bother to learn Cavendish's methods—his role was strategy, his time much too valuable for implementation—but the man seemed to know everything that took place in the Division.

"How long ago did we lose signal?" Fulmer demanded without preamble.

"Forty-two seconds ago. As with the last incident, there was a sharp rise in heart rate and blood pressure before the internal temperature gauge plummeted. Ninety-eight to seventy-three, still going down."

"The chip has been surgically removed?"

"The data points to that conclusion." Cavendish never called him 'Sir,' an indulgence Fulmer granted only because he had no idea how he would replace the man.

"Anything else of interest in her bloodwork before this happened? Estrogen, oxytocin, anything like that?"

"Negative."

A kernel of excitement lit up in Fulmer's chest, but he kept that to himself. "So, the subject was still a beta when the chip was removed?"

It was a rhetorical question that Cavendish, the arrogant prick, didn't bother answering. "You understand that I cannot verify if she is currently alive. We could send in a reconnaissance unit to verify—"

"That won't be necessary," Fulmer snapped, already turning to go. "Shut down Clarke's case."

Instead of returning to the lab, Fulmer headed for his own private office, where he would make a call that would ensure that a certain lovely young Ukrainian refugee would be waiting in his quarters in an hour, ready to take his mind off work.

Sergeant Clarke's life or death didn't matter to Fulmer anymore; he already had all the information he needed from this mission. But he still needed to blow off a little steam, maybe even celebrate a little.

Clarke—brave, stupid bitch that she was—had survived over a week in the Boundarylands without a change in her underlying nature. That was more than any other known dormant omega, living or dead, could boast.

This accomplishment proved that the suppressant was effective under real-world conditions. Soon, Fulmer and his other associates—those not on the Division payroll, whose existence was unknown even to Fulmer's superiors—would make arrangements for the black-market sale and distribution of this new "nature insurance." It would take months, even years, for the FDA to test and grant approval to drug manufacturers, and by then, Fulmer's war chest would be considerably larger.

Money was necessary, and Fulmer wasn't above doing whatever it took to amass it. But that wasn't what drove him.

Tomorrow, he would make a call to a certain cabinet member, who would put in motion the second phase of the Division's top-secret plan.

Others had done the work of installing the official in the current administration; his superiors' motivations were of no interest to Fulmer. He was doing God's work—ridding the world of sinful aberrations of the natural order. He had worked within the system long enough to see too many failures caused by weakness, fear, greed, indecision.

No more.

Fulmer entered the elevator and tapped his foot as he waited for the car to carry him to the facility's mezzanine level. Then waited equally impatiently for another elevator—one which only two people were granted access—to take him eleven stories underground to a room whose existence was known to fewer people than Fulmer could count on his hands.

When eventually the reinforced steel and titanium doors finally slid open, Fulmer felt a familiar swell of pride. The suite he stepped out into was smaller than Central Control, but also far better appointed.

There were no linoleum-lined floors here, no smell of stale coffee, no vending machines to sustain the overworked staff through their long shifts. These floors were polished marble. The furnishings had been selected by a Swiss design firm. The discretion of the staff who cleaned and stocked the kitchen and did the other unpleasant but necessary work was guaranteed by the fact that they were never allowed to leave.

He nodded to the staffer monitoring the screens installed on one wall of the room, a brilliant neuroscientist named Fernanda Medina, who annoyed Fulmer less than most of his staff because she kept to herself.

Most of his small team disliked spending time down here, preferring the dumpy above-ground office suite disguised as the Division's accounting office. Fulmer found their cowardice contemptible. It wasn't being underground that scared them, after all, but the lab rats.

Two sanitized hallways extended to the left and right of the central suite, stretching farther than the eye could see, lined with impenetrable cells with two-foot-thick ballistic plexiglass walls…much like the empty one in the center of the room he was standing in.

"We're beginning Phase Two," Fulmer told Medina.

"When, sir?"

"Immediately. I want you to ready a subject for a full workup."

Medina clicked her mouse and brought up the current inventory of subjects. "Did you have anyone in mind?"

A cold smile crept across Fulmer's face.

"Actually, I do."

Welcome to The Boundarylands Omegaverse!

Thank you for reading VONN, Book 14 in the series. There are so many more hot alphas from the Boundarylands waiting to meet you.

Vonn’s story is coming soon and is available for preorder here: JAX (The Boundarylands Omegaverse)

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JAX: The Boundarylands Omegaverse

Preorder Now

Ten years in a cage would change any man, but for an alpha like Jax, a decade of chains was enough to turn him into a beast.

All Victoria Hyde ever wanted was to help eradicate the worst diseases plaguing beta-kind. Still, she can’t believe her luck, when right after earning her doctorate in genetic engineering, she manages to land her dream job in a top laboratory.

But the rosy illusion quickly vanishes the moment she comes face to face with her new research subject—a wild