Chapter 16
Saint’s beat-up sedan crawls down the winding road toward Rockford Manor, the engine protesting with each curve. The box of dismantled security cameras rattles in the backseat.
“You sure about this?” Saint asks, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.
The leniency I had been willing to give for Sebastian’s freak-out faded in the process of taking down all his many, many cameras, and now pure anger fuels me. “Drive faster.”
The sedan wheezes as Saint accelerates, pushing it beyond what the poor car wants to give. Mansions and brick walls whip past our windows, the exclusive town of Skyhaven so far out of our league that I’m shocked the police haven’t already pulled us over to demand why we’re here.
“Jesus,” Saint mutters. “These people own half the county.”
I stare ahead, my throat tightening as the imposing gates of Rockford Manor come into view. Wrought iron spikes reach toward the sky, the family crest worked into the metal. A security booth stands beside them, manned by a guard in a crisp uniform who steps out as we approach.
Saint rolls to a stop, his car an embarrassing contrast to the luxury surrounding us.
The guard approaches with a professional mask of neutrality. “May I help you?”
I lean across Saint to peer out the window, vibrating with restrained fury. “We’re here to see Sebastian Rockford.”
The guard’s hand rests on his belt, close to what I suspect is a weapon. “Do you have an appointment?”
“No. But he’ll want to see me.” I twist to show the Mark on my neck. “Let him know his Omega is here.”
Shocked, the guard’s focus jumps between my neck and my face. “Sir, I’ll need to verify—”
I cut him off, spotting the security camera mounted on the gate. I know who watches those feeds.
“Hey, Sebastian!” I shout, glaring into the camera lens. “Come out, you coward! Face me, or I start streaming again tonight!”
The guard’s mouth opens in shock as his radio crackles with sudden voices. He holds up a hand to tell us to wait and steps into his booth to speak to the people on the other end.
After a tense moment, he returns, his professional mask slipping to reveal confusion. “Mr. Rockford says to… let you through.” He signals to someone unseen, and the massive gates swing inward. “Follow the driveway to the front of the house. Someone will meet you there.”
“Damn right they will.” I collapse back into my seat as Saint accelerates through the opening.
The driveway stretches before us, a winding ribbon of ornate stonework bordered by trimmed hedges. Through the open window, I catch the scent of roses, though I don’t spot any of the flowers as we pass.
“Rich people,” Saint scoffs, but I detect the underlying awe.
My anger falters as we round the final curve. Rockford Manor rises before us, three stories of old-world grandeur with sunlight glinting off leaded glass, warming the stone facade to honey gold. Flowerpots line the steps leading to carved double doors tall enough to admit giants.
The scale of it all strikes at my nerves. This is where Sebastian comes from. This is the world he inhabits when he’s not slumming it in my modest apartment.
What was I thinking, coming here? What could a cam boy from the wrong side of town possibly mean to someone who wakes up to this every day?
“Don’t,” Saint says, reading my expression. “Don’t you dare back down now.”
I swallow hard, squaring my shoulders. “I’m not.”
“Good. Because that motherfucker owes you answers.” Saint pulls up to the circular portion of the drive, parking with deliberate carelessness. “And I didn’t drive all the way out to Richville to turn around without seeing how the 1% live.”
I stare up at the manor, my palm sweaty on the door handle. The massive oak doors stand thirty feet away, up a flight of stone steps.
Fuck, that’s intimidating.
Saint pops the back door and retrieves the box of cameras, the cardboard sagging under their weight. “You ready for this?”
“As I’ll ever be.” I slam the car door harder than necessary.
The gravel crunches beneath our feet as we approach the steps.
“Are we fucking walking on crystals?” Saint mutters, staring at our feet.
Any other time, I’d stop to stare at the extravagance, but right now, my stomach ties itself into knots, and it takes everything in me to force each foot forward.
Saint matches my pace, the box balanced on his hip. “Remember, you’re the wronged party here. Don’t let him flip the script.”
“I told you, I’ll handle this.”
All those nights I spent wrapped in his arms, all those hours of conversation, the care he showed during my fever, they had to mean something.
I pause at the final step, gathering my courage. “If he doesn’t come out, I’ll tear this place apart room by room until I find him.”
Saint grins, a predatory flash of teeth. “That’s my boy.”
Before we can knock, the heavy door swings inward. A man with golden-brown hair and hazel eyes too much like Sebastian’s fills the entrance. His casual stance belies the assessing way he looks me up and down, his mouth curving into a knowing smile that raises my hackles.
“Micah Barnes,” he says, my name rolling off his tongue as if we already know each other. “The infamous cam boy who broke Sebastian’s brain. I’m Gabriel. Youngest sibling to the hermit you’re looking for.”
My prepared speech evaporates as confusion replaces anger. “How do you—”
“Know who you are?” Gabriel leans on the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest. “The whole family’s been dying to meet you. Sebastian’s been very protective of his little crush.”
“Crush?” An angry flush creeps up my neck. “Crush? He Marked me and disappeared for five days.”
Gabriel throws his head back and laughs, the sound bouncing off the marble foyer behind him. “Well, that explains why he’s been locked in his room, looking like someone ran over his dog. The emotionally constipated idiot actually did it.”
My fingers curl into fists at my sides. “Where is he?”
“Inside, probably watching this whole conversation on the security feed while having a panic attack.” Gabriel waves a dismissive hand. “He’ll come out, eventually. Always does, once he’s worked through whatever existential crisis he’s having this week.”
“I don’t have time for eventually.” I step forward, forcing Gabriel to move back or collide with me. “Take me to him. Now.”
Gabriel holds up his palms. “Whoa, tiger. Calm down.”
“Don’t tell him to calm down.” Saint sets the box down hard, the thud echoing through the foyer, and positions himself between me and Gabriel.
Despite Gabriel being a powerful billionaire, Saint doesn’t back down, using his height to his advantage as he crowds into Gabriel’s space.
“He spent five days alone after your brother claimed him and ran. He doesn’t need to calm down. He needs answers.”
Gabriel’s gaze drops from Saint’s face to his boots, then drags back up, a flicker of interest replacing his casual amusement. “And who might you be?”
“The person who’s going to break your jaw if you don’t get Sebastian down here in the next thirty seconds,” Saint growls.
“Feisty.” Gabriel grins, revealing perfect white teeth. “I like that in a—”
“Finish your sentence,” Saint interrupts, “and we’ll find out how well that pretty face handles being rearranged.”
A current of challenge passes between them, making the air vibrate. I push past, scanning the cavernous entry hall with its soaring ceiling and gleaming marble floor. A grand staircase curves up to the second floor, and doorways lead off to what must be a dozen different rooms.
I tip my head back to study the ceiling and locate the security camera aimed at the entrance.
“Sebastian!” I shout, his name echoing in the massive space. “I know you can see me. Stop hiding and face me like an Alpha!”
Gabriel whistles. “Damn. The quiet ones are always the most explosive.”
I spin back to Saint, who’s still locked in a staring contest with Gabriel. “The box.”
Saint breaks eye contact to push the cardboard box toward me with his foot, never fully turning away from Gabriel.
I yank off the lid and upend the contents onto the pristine floor. Cameras, wires, mounting brackets, and screws clatter across the marble in a satisfying explosion of electronics.
“There.” I kick one of the larger dome cameras, sending it skidding across the floor. “Since you’re not using them anymore, I brought them back to you.”
Gabriel crouches to pick up one of the cameras, turning it over in his hand. “Seb installed these in your home?”
“Every last one.” I grab another camera from the pile, my fingers white-knuckled around the plastic housing. “He said they were for my protection. To keep watch for my stalker.” A bitter laugh escapes me. “Turns out, I was living with two stalkers.”
“That’s not true.” Gabriel’s playful demeanor fades. “Sebastian doesn’t—”
“Doesn’t what?” I challenge. “Doesn’t watch people without their knowledge? Doesn’t break into their homes? Doesn’t Mark them and abandon them?”
My voice rises with each accusation, bouncing off the high ceiling. “What kind of Alpha claims someone during Heat, then leaves a goddamn note?”
Gabriel’s mouth twitches. “A note? Tell me you’re joking.”
“Eight words.” I hold up my fingers, counting them off. “I’m sorry. I took advantage. You deserve better.”
I kick another camera, the plastic casing cracking under my boot. “Followed by radio silence for five days while a real stalker leaves me threatening photos.”
“Photos?” Gabriel’s playful expression vanishes. “What photos?”
“Taken through my window. Pictures of me with my face scratched out.” I spin back to the mounted camera. “You promised to protect me!”
Gabriel’s face hardens. “That’s not the full story.”
“Then what is?” I demand. “Because from where I’m standing, your brother is either a coward or a liar. Maybe both.”
“He’s not a liar.” Gabriel straightens, now very much the billionaire Alpha. “But he is an idiot with more guilt than sense.”