Love in Lace

Charlie was ecstatic. Everything was going according to plan. The ball was rolling with the case, the application was submitted, in review, and soon she would have a shot at investigating the internal affairs of SGPS.

Yes, she was losing sleep because of late nights at the office, but that was fine. She can sleep when she’s dead. Nothing, not even her body’s need for sleep or the setting sun, would stop her.

So of course, things had to all go downhill.
She had just climbed three flights of stairs up to her apartment, considering the damn elevator was broken again. But that’s fine, Charlie thinks. Just some exercise, that’s good for you, especially after sitting at your desk all day. She heaves a sigh of relief at the sight of her front door.

She already has her keys ready, and Charlie steps into her home.

Something’s wrong.

There are actually many somethings wrong.
Charlie’s jaw sets in fury. The first tip that something is wrong is the smell. She’s used to her own scent, chocolate with a hint of coffee, sometimes mixed with her packmates. But this? This sterile bleach? It makes her nose scrunch up in disgust, her skin crawling.

The second thing was the fact that the lights were all on. Charlie distinctly remembered checking five times that morning that the lamps and lights were off.
The third, as she stalked through the hallway into the living room, was this man sitting on her couch. She only just managed to stifle the growl in her throat.

“Who. The. Fuck. Are. You?” Charlie seems to command an answer, her scent going bitter.

The man doesn’t seem concerned that he’s invaded her home, simply looking up at her with a blank expression. She’s instantly reminded of a rat, with dark beady eyes and ears entirely too big for his face.

“Ah, Charlotte Tifton, I presume?”

Charlie allows a growl to tumble out of her throat, grabbing him by the front of his collar and hauling him off her couch.

“You didn’t answer my question.”
The man sighs, as if she’s the one overreacting. As if this was his. As if he had any right.

“My name is Derek Foley. From the Secondary Gender Preservation Services. Ms. Tifton, you’ve been selected for an omega.”

Charlie can nearly hear a record screeching through her brain, her whole body tensing. She releases his shirt, staggering back. She either wants to tear this man’s throat out or to get the hell away from him, she wasn’t sure. Did she hear him right? Why the hell would she be given an omega? She had never even signed up for the Lottery! She had adamantly refused to once she came of age. How could she ever participate in the same sick system that she’s fighting against?

Besides, why the hell wo- oh. Oh. Charlie’s eyes flash in recognition and unbridled rage. The case. Of course the SGPS wouldn’t take kindly to someone poking around their business. They weren’t just giving her an omega. They were planting a tracker, a device to spy on her 24/7.

“I don’t recall entering the Lottery. Perhaps you’ve made a mistake.” Charlie grits out.
The man looks at her carefully, his eyes narrowing.

“This is a…special case. This omega was personally selected for you. Congratulations.” He tacked on the end as if that was meant to make her feel grateful.

“…and if I refuse?” Charlie asks lowly. Her claws dig into her palm harshly. Could she even refuse SGPS? There’s no way. How is she supposed to investigate and prosecute them if they’re bugging her home? Following her every move? The routine check-ins would be more than enough to put a wrench in her work.

The man, with his shrewd rat-like face, laughs. He laughs. This damn bastard.

“And why would you refuse? Anyone would be grateful to have an omega, especially a…woman like you. Didn’t you have an omega sibling? Surely you have some experience with this, don’t you?”

Charlie bristles, resisting the urge to bare her teeth. She tries to reign herself in, knowing there’s nothing she can do. She can’t refuse. If she tries, they’ll just keep coming. It’ll make her all the more suspicious if she denies them. And they’ll come back with a vengeance. Worst of all, they know about Parker. If she refuses, what happens to him? What happens to the omega she rejects? Will they be subject to worse alphas who couldn’t care less about their wellbeing? All she can do is try to salvage this major train wreck.
Charlie exhales deeply from her nose.

“When will they be coming?” She mutters in defeat.

The man smiles sharply, knowing that Charlie was backed into a corner.
“We wouldn’t want to make you wait too long for your new mate. I’ve heard you people tend to move quickly. Best for your omega to get here by the weekend.” He replies, sick amusement thick in his voice.

Charlie stiffens, both at his derogatory tone and the information he just dropped on her.
“Less than a week? That can’t be enough time to… to make a suitable place for an omega.” She grits out a pathetic excuse, her chest tightening with anxiety. Four days from now? They really want to fuck her up, don’t they?

The man seems to see right through her, and sends Charlie a knowing smirk.

“I’m sure you’ll manage, Ms. Tifton. Especially since you’ll be taking a leave of absence from your work and receiving a very generous stipend from the agency.”

…

“What?” Charlie’s heart stopped, her eyes widening. “A leave of- there is no way in hell I can just-“

“Oh don’t worry about any of that, Ms. Tifton. It’ll be like a little vacation. Just a month with you and your new mate, I’m sure you’ll find plenty to do in that time. Your employer will be notified in the morning.”

The man then gathers his briefcase and his coat as if he didn’t just knock the wind out of Charlie’s lungs. He’s entirely relaxed, his actions slow and languid. Charlie can do nothing but stare him down as he leaves. He smiles, waving at her as he closes the door behind him.

“We’ll be in touch, Ms. Tifton. Good evening.”

Charlie can’t fucking breathe. Sharp pain stabs her chest, and she falls onto the couch, clutching her shirt so tightly she distantly hears a ripping sound. But everything is drowned out as she hears her brother’s screams. Parker. Poor, sweet, baby Parker being dragged into an unmarked black van. The tears streaming down his cheeks as he calls for her. The tears that blur her last glimpse of him as she desperately tries to go after him.

And always being too far away.

Reaching out for him and always being restrained and shoved away.

Back then, it was by that disgrace of a man they called her father. His big burly hands bruising her for days afterward as he drags her away from Parker.

Now, it’s a slimy rat man who says she’s not allowed to work. Not allowed to find, to save, to protect-

“No- no no no!” Charlie mumbles as she tugs at her hair, trying to feel anything but the pain in her chest and the burn in her eyes. She screws her eyes shut as she tries to ground herself, gasping for air.

What can I do? You have to think, Charlie. This can’t be it. You need to be there, you need to win. You need to fight. That’s the only way you’ll find him.

But how can she fight when she’s drowning? She fumbles in her pocket frantically, unable to see past her tears as she realizes she’s sobbing, heaving breaths in short bursts. She can’t read the numbers, only seeing the blurred purple light of her homescreen as she calls the first person on her list.

“Hey babes, did you just get home?” The chipper voice of Margie cuts through her spiral, and Charlie takes a shuddering breath, her shoulders shaking. There’s a pause on the other end.
“Charlie? Babes what’s wrong? Talk to me.”

“M-Margie- it’s th-them” She hiccups, sobs wracking her body.

“Who? Charlie you’re scaring me.” Margie says in a stark contrast to her usual happy tone.

“SGPS- they- they showed up- they-” Charlie stammers through her tears, trying to muffle her pathetic noises with her fist, biting her knuckle until she tastes blood.

“…I’ll be there in fifteen minutes, babes. Hold on tight.”