Chapter 27
Sinclair snored from the mattress he was sprawled out on, arm stretched out and gripping my hand hard. He’d passed out a while ago.
Time blurred like some faraway construct. As I watched him, I thought about everything. What led me to them, how they’d behaved, and how they pushed me away over and over again, despite lust driving us together.
Sinclair had kissed someone—fuck, I didn’t doubt he’d been screwing other women—bile worked its way up my throat.
I breathed out slowly before I ended up vomiting all over the bed.
Elias and Kyan were no better, but at least Kyan seemed a bit more level-headed and grounded.
Now, the other two were . . . something else.
I extricated my hand from Sinclair’s, studying his slumbering features, but there was still a deep furrow between his eyebrows. Opposite of how he was when he was awake, loose and careless. I slid onto the floor, leaning against the wooden bed frame.
His snore hitched and then continued, his hand twitching. Sinclair was an incredibly restless sleeper. It was a shame I wouldn’t find out if it was normal for him.
I tilted my head back, letting it bounce back from the edge of the mattress. It’d been a while since Elias and Kyan had left, and I couldn’t quiet my thoughts.
A bitter, hollow seed had taken root in my stomach, and it grew with each passing minute. Disgust at them and myself. Everything was wrong.
Mom had been right. No Alpha is good.
A thud echoed from down the hall as if emphasizing the point. Were they back? I stayed quiet and listened, but no other sound came.
I’d foolishly allowed myself to soften to Greymont Pack, even after knowing who they were and what they were involved in. That was on me, but I wouldn’t make the same fucking mistake again.
Another sound came. Low enough that it took a few times for me to realize it was someone knocking. I rolled to my feet and shuffled over to the bags against the wall. I’d been holding off picking through them, but I wouldn’t answer the door almost naked.
I selected a comfortable set of lounging pants. This time, there was a bag full of underwear. I grabbed the panties from the neat pile and then the bra from the compartment in the paper bag. I shucked off Kyan’s black sweater and dressed quickly, leaving the room and a slumbering Sinclair.
The knocking became louder, especially as soon as I stepped into the open space where the bedrooms were.
A phone ringing stopped me in the middle of the cross section. I followed it into Sinclair’s bedroom. His cell phone rested on the edge of the bed, and I picked it up.
Texts. Tons of them and missed calls, all spaced out within seconds. I swiped up, opening the home screen.
All of them were from Elias.
Another text came through.
Demi is there. Get rid of that bitch.
The knocking . . . was Demi? My pulse jumped. I could leave with her. Or I could have her call the cops. I’d turn myself in. They weren’t letting me leave, well, I would take the power away from them.
Another text.
Sinclair!
How did they know she was here? It hit me like a ton of bricks. An action plan.
The first part was the camera.
I navigated to the settings and disconnected it from the internet. Now they wouldn’t know what I was about to do.
I silenced Sinclair’s cell and ran toward the front door like my ass was on fire. I tried to keep my footsteps light, but my damn sandals kept slapping against the floor. I yanked open the door. Demi stood on the step, her fist raised, and her face flushed bright plum.
Her mouth pursed, and it took one sweep of her gaze to express her opinion.
“You’re what they traded me in for?” she scoffed. “Downgrade much?”
Her words hit while I was vulnerable. I straightened and narrowed my eyes. I was going to try this the nice way, but I wasn’t opposed to getting dirty.
“You can have them.” My voice was dull and harsh, unrecognizable to my ears.
She drew her shoulders up with a huff.
“Who the hell are you to permit me anything?” She raised an eyebrow. As tall as she tried to make herself, I was several inches taller. I didn’t bother straightening my slouch. I had no energy for it.
“Give me your car keys.” I softened my tone.
“What?” she huffed, hand on her chest like I’d insulted her entire lineage, while her other hand clamped over the purse dangling from the crook of her arm.
I reached for it, and her hand swung at me. I was too slow to move. Her palm smacked my face. Pain stung my cheek for a brief second. I met her wide gaze and let my fist fly. Blood burst under my knuckles, and she yelped, clutching her hand over her face.
I strong-armed the purse out of her grip and shoved away her swinging fist. As soon as I stuck my hand inside, I found the keys. I pulled out the jingling metal and tossed her purse to the side. She screeched and lunged for it.
“You fucking bitch!” She swept her purse up, dusting it off with frantic swipes.
“You’re making a fucking mistake,” she spat. “It won’t last.”
I know that.
“You’re just a warm body to those assholes. They don’t give a shit about anyone.”
I knew that, too. I headed for the driver’s side.
“Don’t walk away from me!” she hissed.
“Shut up,” I snapped, rounding on her. Her mouth dropped open, and her hand hovered to shield her face.
“You can report it to the police when we get there.”
It was enough to make her pause.
“I’m wanted for murder,” I announced. “For killing an Omega.”
I didn’t think it was possible for her to turn paler.
Her lips flapped a few times, but nothing came out.
Thank God, she was too much for me to process right now. I stormed over to the car and slid inside, turning the key. Demi hurried into the passenger seat.
“I’m not letting you steal my car, murderer,” she hissed.
“Whatever, just don’t talk.”
“If you don’t want me to talk, you shouldn’t have—”
I whipped my head around, a warning in my glare.
She went even paler somehow and huddled against the door. “Psycho bitch.”
Now all we could hear was the engine. I followed the road Kyan took all the way to the main freeway. From here, I would continue on the I-5. So damn odd. My Scent Matches had been living a half hour away from me. It boggled my mind.
Fortunately, Demi didn’t speak the entire drive, offering me some peace to think about what I was doing.
Turning myself in had been an option playing in my head, but fear had forced others to the forefront. If I went in, I wouldn’t leave. I knew it, deep in my bones. It would be my death sentence. Just as anyone else who’d murdered an Omega.
Maybe I could find help from the ORD, but with a Bourne in charge, I doubted any true help would come of it.
If the circumstances were different—if I were to receive a fair trial—I might have been able to state my case, but the problem was, I doubted I would get one. There were too many ‘ifs.’
I rubbed my hands on the steering wheel. A calmness settled over me. This was my last day outside a cell.
. . . but it had been weeks now since I’d been free.
I slid into a parking space, put the car in park, and tossed the keys into her lap.
“Are you going back?” She straightened, like she was going to start another rant. “Never mind.” I put my hand up to stop her talking, but she flinched. She was laying the drama on thick; I wasn’t even within distance to land a hit. “I hope you’re happy with them.”
I slammed the door shut, ignoring her muffled shouts. I yanked the handle of the police station’s door open. A rush of cold air wafted out of the air-conditioned lobby. An officer sat behind the glass bulletproof pane. He looked up, and his eyebrow raised at my approach.
He reached forward to flip the speaker switch. “Take a seat. I’ll be right with you.” The mic fizzed, and he pulled away.
“I’m here to turn myself in.” I didn’t cower from his gaze. “Briar Rivera.”
His eyes flitted to the side, looking at something that I couldn’t see. He lifted his radio to his mouth, but again, I couldn’t hear what he said.
In the next moment, the front door buzzed. I gasped from the suddenness and swung to look at him, but he was gone. There was no need to lock it, I was here of my own will.
The side door opened, and three officers spilled inside.
“Turn around,” one barked, hand on his belt near his gun.
I bit back my scoff and did as he asked. Another officer stepped behind me.
His fingers dug into my wrist with more force than necessary. I winced when it tugged at the scabbed skin of my arms.
Cold metal kissed my wrists, and the cuffs clicked into place.