Night fell over the city, dense and silent, perfect for the stealthy movements of William's Delta team.
While the rest of the world slept or was lost in the glow of night lights, the elite Alphas fanned out with surgical precision, ghosts among the shadows.
Their target: the abandoned warehouse in the port district, a location that, according to the Beta's report, was a crucial node in Democles's network. Bentral led the operation, her every move calculated, her Alpha perception sharp, calibrated to detect any anomaly.
Delta team was William's elite, Alphas trained not only in combat and surveillance but in infiltration and the analysis of pheromones and residual energies. They moved as a single unit, barely perceptible silhouettes against the backdrop of the old docks and rusting ships.
The air was thick with the salty humidity of the harbor, mixed with something else, something that pricked the Alphas' senses. It was an echo, a resonance that grew stronger as they approached the warehouse; the trail of fear, manipulation, and an ancient, corrupted essence.
Bentral, in the lead, stopped the team before they came into view of the warehouse. Her nose wrinkled a twinge of distaste in her Alpha instinct. "There's something here," she whispered through the encrypted comlink, her voice deep. "The pheromones are... mixed. Fear, desperation, but also an artificial calm. And there's an energetic signature I haven't felt before with this intensity." It was Democles' presence, though not explicit, clearly detectable by a trained Alpha.
They infiltrated with astonishing skill. The locks gave way without a sound, the alarms, if there were any, were disabled before they could be triggered. The interior of the warehouse was a vast, cavernous space, dominated by the stale smell of dust and neglect. Still, beneath that layer, his Alpha senses detected countless pheromonal microparticles that told a grim story.
Remains of Omegas, multiple, of different essences. They had been there. And their traces revealed horror: paralyzing fear, confusion, and then a strange stillness, a forced resignation.
As the team moved forward, their narrow-beam flashlights revealed symbols painted on the ground, markings Bentral and his men recognized from previous reports on the occult: arcane sigils, geometric patterns that seemed to vibrate with a residual energy, a psychic residue that made even the most seasoned Alphas uncomfortable. There were the remains of burned-out candles, ashes, and a sticky, almost imperceptible substance that emanated a nauseating sweetness. It wasn't blood, but something organic, dark.
"Rituals have been performed here," Bentral reported to William through the secure line, his voice thick with revulsion. "The symbols are consistent with what we've learned about Democles. And the pheromones... they're from Omegas, sir. A large number of them, the strongest trace indicating extreme terror followed by... a void. As if their essences had been drained, or their wills, completely molded not only mentally but physically."
William listened from the relative calm of his office, Bentral's information confirming his worst fears and the Beta's veracity.
"Look for anything else," he ordered in an icy whisper. "Any sign of an Omega with a 'pure' essence. Anything to distinguish them from the others. And bring in any items that might have residue of Democles with extreme caution."
The tension on the line was palpable.
Bentral and his team swept the warehouse. In a corner, almost hidden by some old boxes, they found a small makeshift altar. It wasn't large, but it was covered with more sigils and, more disturbingly, a series of crudely made cloth dolls, each with a small tuft of real hair.
And one, just one, bore Erika's image.
"Sir," Bentral's voice was a growl choked with anger. "We found this. It seems... you've been performing some kind of ritual with dolls. And there's one here, one in particular, with an image... It's the... the Omega Belion."
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William's fist clenched, his knuckles whitening. Democles didn't just want Erika; he'd already drawn her into his game.
"Recover that doll," William ordered his voice now icy cold. "And make sure there's no trace of her presence. I want Democles to know his sanctuary has been desecrated, but not who did it."
Delta Team complied. They took the doll, collected samples of the pheromones and energies, and then dropped pellets laden with a special smoke that served to sterilize the surroundings.
While Bentral and his team retreated as efficiently as they'd arrived, the city remained mired in its routine, oblivious to the incursion into its very core.
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While the incursion was taking place, Erika's life continued with a disturbing routine.
The dream and the scent had become more intense, the "voice" in her mind more persistent, a protective whisper that enveloped her even while awake. She felt watched, yes, but strangely, that watching no longer terrified her in the same way.
There was a routine familiarity to it, a constant presence. It was as if a shadow had attached itself to her, a shadow that protected her even from herself, from her own deepest fears.
At the bakery, in the park with Rose, at every moment of her day, Erika felt a light breeze where there wasn't one, a whisper in the air, a sense that she wasn't alone.
They weren't William's visible agents, but his invisible presence, his network of covert Alphas working seamlessly. One figure read a newspaper on a nearby bench, another sipped coffee at the next table, and a third walked a dog; all part of William's surveillance network, all his eyes and ears.
The only thing that kept her from fully enjoying her new normal was Melina. With each passing day, it seemed the younger girl's worry grew.
Her exhaustion was visible, her eyes bloodshot from sleepless nights, her body tense from the constant suppression of her instincts and the frantic search for the threat.
She felt the presence of the unknown Alpha near Erika with an intensity that drove her mad, a force so powerful it dulled her senses, making her feel powerless and useless.
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In his office, William held the cloth doll. It was a crude representation of Erika; he felt the residue of the rituals, the dark energy of Democles imbued within it.
"Democles," William murmured to the emptiness of his office, his voice an echo of suppressed fury. "You play with fire. You've invaded my territory, wanting to touch what's mine."
He knew the doll wasn't just a ritual tool; It was an attempt at control, a way to project Democles' influence over Erika to his followers from a distance.
The Beta, with his report, had accelerated the game. William knew that Democles's next move would be bolder, more direct. He couldn't afford to wait; he would have to claim Erika, not just protect her.
The raid on the warehouse was just the beginning… It was time to move his pieces, not just to defend, but to attack.