Chapter 6
Octavian
Viking Murderer Set Free
Rodney Larsson makes parole after five years in a facility for the criminally insane.
“Well, no shit.” I grab the discarded newspaper from the table I’m bussing and look over the front page.
I wasn’t really sure what happened to Rodney the Viking after the incident at the shelter, but I’m not surprised he got locked up.
I’m also not surprised he’s being let out.
It was clear, even to an eighteen year old kid, that guy wasn’t playing with a full deck, and I felt for him right up until they hauled him out of the church.
I mean, I felt for him as much as I’m capable of, anyway.
Six months later and I don’t think Rodney crossed my mind once, so seeing his picture on the front of The Chronicle with that kind of headline makes me grin.
I scan the article as I drop off the tray of dirty dishes to the kid in the back, mindlessly heading back out to the front counter while I read.
Larsson, 47, will be released into the care of Dr. Gabriel Locke of the Mourningwood Institute five years after brutally murdering Jessop Hollbrook, 51 at the time of his death, a known pedofile and child rapist.
I had no idea who Rodney killed, or why.
All I knew was that he told me I was safe, I believed him, and now that makes sense. Granted, I wasn’t a child but being so underweight and barely an adult, I can see why Rodney said what he said to me. Especially when you consider that Hollbrook guy was only a few beds away from mine.
Spreading the paper out on the counter, I keep reading about his diagnosis and treatment, about how Rodney grew up in a shitty situation similar to mine and how this Dr. Locke has made serious progress with him and his rehabilitation.
I pop my hip against the display case, smirking while I devour the article.
Seems like Rodney did this town a service by eliminating someone so vile and the author of this piece isn’t even trying to hide their bias toward feeling that way as well.
Justifiable manslaughter is a repeated phrase, and I can’t help but agree.
“Oh, I just love a studious omega.”
I freeze as a claw-tipped finger comes into my line of sight, tracing the sentences on the page in a pattern that brings it closer and closer to my hand.
The hair on the back of my neck stands on end and my heart starts hammering away in my chest, my palms tingle and begin to sweat, and my mouth goes bone dry.
“Someone smart and sexy. A real intellectual. A mind made for knowledge with a body made for…”
I swallow hard and slowly lift my head, pushing my glasses up my nose as I take an involuntary step backward. My eyes shift from the female in front of me to the male next to her, bouncing back and forth between them and their almost identical expressions.
Predatory expressions.
Not only are these two the least attractive humans I have ever seen, they are quite possibly the most terrifying, and stupidest, ones I’ve come into contact with.
I’ve only seen them a couple of times before, stopping in to grab a coffee or bagel on their way to wherever the hell they go.
Probably somewhere to kick puppies or steal babies from their mothers.
A simple few interactions and I don’t doubt for one second that these two have an evil streak longer than the female’s terrible fake extensions.
“What do you think, Kyle?” she asks, her beady eyes scanning me from head to toe. “Does Octavian do it for you the way he does for me?”
The male, Kyle, looks me up and down as well, his stare harder than hers as it lingers too long over my throat. “Definitely.”
“Oh goodie,” I grumble, the words spilling out all on their own and in the most sarcastic tone I’ve ever heard come from my mouth.
I’m sure I’ll pay for that somehow. “I’m so glad I have your seal of approval.
I’ve been worrying myself sick over whether or not I’d do it for a set of idiotic twin alphas. My life is now complete.”
What in the actual fuck is wrong with me?
I’ve been working at this coffee shop for a few years now and never once have I even wanted to talk to anyone that way.
Not even when I first saw these two morons.
I just fill orders, clean tables, and keep to myself until it’s time to go home. I don’t make small talk with the customers, I barely talk to them at all, and working the counter is the last thing my boss likes for me to do because of it.
Getting shitty with these two out of nowhere isn’t really my MO.
Then again, I’ve sort of come into my own over the last few years.
A proper diet, healthy activity, and a fresh start all contributed to a growth spurt I finally had and was most likely long overdue for.
I shot up to six-foot-one, packed on not only some weight but a little muscle, too.
My hair stopped falling out in clumps thanks to all the stress of living in Illinois, and my skin is clearer and healthier than it’s ever been.
Not getting beaten and burned on a regular basis will do that to a person’s complexion.
Between feeling physically healthier than I ever have in my life, maintaining a job and savings, setting goals that stretch beyond basic survival, and starting business classes at the local community college, my confidence has been boosted to some degree.
Which apparently means I’m going to let my pessimistic, skeptical, generally asshole-ish personality slip out.
While that normally wouldn’t bother me because I don’t want or need friends, or anyone else for that matter, I feel like letting this side of me show to the two asshats staring at me slackjawed and in shock was not a good idea.
“What did you say?” Kyle asks after what feels like an eternity.
I blink and cross my arms against my chest. “What, you’re an idiot and can’t hear? Or are you just so stupid that I have to repeat myself until you understand the words coming out of my mouth?”
When I was a kid, the expression that is currently twisting Kyle’s face into what can only be described as the embodiment of rage would have terrified me, right now, adult Octavian is only kind of scared, and extremely annoyed.
And that has to be the only reason why I reach under the counter, grab a children’s menu, a three pack of crayons, and proceed to literally spell out what I said. Otherwise, I’m having an out of body experience and am seconds from watching my own murder.
“Kassie,” the male growls through clenched teeth. “You want him, so I won’t kill him, but I need–”
“It’s fine.” The female places her hand on her brother’s shoulder then reaches for the red crayon with the other.
“He’s just playing hard to get, and I like that.
” I watch her scribble a few numbers down on the newspaper and set the waxy art supply down.
“He’ll come around, and when he does, we can both have him. ”
Because apparently I now have a death wish, I gag, literally gag without even trying, then grab the paper, wad it up, and throw it in the trash.
Kassie gives me a rather evil grin as she pulls Kyle from the counter and starts leading him toward the door. “See you soon, Octavian.”
The second they exit, all the air whooshes from my lungs and my entire body sags against the display case.
I am a dead omega walking.
Living on borrowed time.
I never thought I’d make it to this adulthood let alone this age, it’s not surprising that I managed to manifest a premature death for myself by believing it for so many years, and right as things started to look promising, too.
I pull the sleeve of my hoodie down over my hand and press it to the glass, swiping it back and forth over the thick layer of dirt until there’s a clear view into the abandoned store.
Just a couple thousand dollars more and this place could be mine.
It will be mine.
I’m going to make sure it’s mine no matter how many hours I have to work at the coffee shop. I’m already so close I can practically smell the must and decay behind the window I’m staring into.
I don’t believe in love, not really. Not the kind between mates who share bonds or whatever. Jerome was the only person who came close to convincing me it was real but I never saw him with his pack for more than a few minutes at a time, so that didn’t really do it for me.
I think I’m probably too jaded and scarred to buy into the gimmick of a happily ever after, and I think forever with someone who doesn’t irritate the piss out of you is a joke.
Love is bullshit, a tool used to cover insecurity and flaws, and bonds are just as much of a myth as Bigfoot or the Boogie Man.
I don’t believe in love, not that kind of love, but I do think it’s possible for someone to experience a version of love at first sight.
I did when I saw this rundown, abandoned building.
It’s across the street from the coffee shop I work at and it’s been for sale longer than I’ve been alive. The building isn’t much to look at when you first see it, but the potential for greatness is there, and I plan on bringing it to fruition.
It used to be the general store when this town was founded and the only reason it’s still here is because it’s attached to the opera house that’s just as old, and the historical society managed to save both as local landmarks.
You can tell it was built in the late 1800s.
The brickwork is solid, the moulding is gorgeous, and the layout makes me feel like a bunch of ranchers and cowboys are going to pass through at any second. There’s still one of those posts they used to tie their horses to next to an ancient watering trough that’s miraculously still standing.
This little block of Pine City makes Minnesota feel like the Wild West and while I have no idea why I’m so drawn to it, I am. And I’m going to turn it into the biggest music store this city has ever seen.