Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
THORNE
After breakfast with my Pack, I know there’s one last thing I need to handle. The Fallon’s were Havoc’s wheelhouse, but Noa’s parents are mine.
I see them, but they don't see me. I see the two people who made my omega's life worse. I see a version of people I hope I never see again.
A couple with brown skin, dressed in riches most wouldn’t be able to comprehend. Both done up in real pearls and gold watches. Live in big houses, with butlers and maids, surrounded by people that they never please.
Rich people don’t bother me. I’m considered richer than most. What I hate is unsatisfied rich people. Rich people who take and take and take, from everyone, but most especially the vulnerable. The poor, the weak, their children, no one is ever safe. Not until you become the bigger, nastier dog.
I see Noa's parents but I also see mine.
Like a hallucination next to her parents, I see their white skin, dark hair and green eyes.
My dad's brown hair and the snarl that never seemed to leave his lips.
My mother, with her bright green eyes and her dyed blonde hair that got caught in her fingers, no matter how disconnected from the world she became, the stress it gave her was obvious.
I see the kind of people I hope never to see again, the kind of people I wouldn’t wish upon my worst enemy.
These are the people who raised us, Noa and I. Cut from the same cloth of privilege that comes with threads loosened. These are the people who trapped us. These are the people we had to escape from the root of our problem, the cause of our own insecurities and hardships.
I made sure my parents never set foot in my life again, and it is nothing for me to do the same for my omega.
Noa’s parents are brunch people. I know that because Noa is a brunch kind of girl, despite what she may think.
She waits to eat until 11 am on the days she’s away from her business.
She wiggles her shoulders in a little dance as she eats her pancakes with syrup and butter, decoratively dripping from the sides.
Mr. and Mrs. Odette sit outside, their coats hanging off their chairs and their chins held high, shoulders back and wide.
They don't talk; they never do. They stare at the menu, then once, when they're done choosing their meal, her dad picks up his phone, and her mother stares off into nowhere.
Women in this life never aspired to more than being a wife, and never aspired to being a person, a mother, their own being.
Green sad eyes flash in my mind as I catch Mrs. Odette’s dazed look. The women in this life are always and forever the wife and that is their crime. There are moments I feel an inkling of guilt, but this is the life that they chose. Noa didn't choose this. I didn't choose this.
I take a deep breath before making my move.
I stand out in these kinds of establishments with my tattoos, dark hair, and rugged clothes.
Nothing mattered more to me than my Pack and hockey, and that remains true.
I don't care to wear the most expensive suits, fitted dress shirts, or slacks. Whatever, it's not my style.
Everyone stares, hoping I’m not here for them.
But I’m here for one couple, and their eyes go wide when they notice I'm coming closer. Swinging a chair from another table, I straddle it and plop down. Crossing my arms in front of me, leaning my elbows on the table. I’m being incredibly impolite, and that's the point.
“Mister and Mrs Odette, what a pleasure to meet again,” I say, even though I know they don't remember me, and that's the thing about these kinds of people. So much yet so little is on their mind at all times, people like me don’t register as important to them. Good thing that I don't care.
“Excuse me.”
“No, no excuse me. I'll keep this brief. I've got better things to do,” I say not only to stroke my ego but more importantly to ground theirs. Their faces are shocked, their eyes go wide, and their lips thin into straight lines. I can admit it does make me a little happy. “I'm Noa's Alpha.”
The line makes them grimace. I can see the fury building between her father's eyebrows, and all I do is smirk. They know there's nothing they can do now to save their darling little daughter from the big, bad, loyal, and caring alpha who their daughter has blessed with her presence.
“As her alpha, I wanted you to know how serious I am regarding her well-being. Check your email.” Her father doesn't listen at first, but her mother does. The speed at which she whips out her phone is one that I know so well, one that I've seen my own mother do.
I watch her face as realization dawns on her. It's like a wave of water running down her face as her eyebrows drop and her eyes darken, the skin melting into a sheen of worry.
She doesn't look at me; instead, she looks up at her husband. Her expression says it all. Her husband then looks at me, confused and angry. Just how I wanted them to.
The little plates of croissants with butter and finger sandwiches are completely forgotten as Noa's father takes the phone into his hands.
Honestly, their little community, a neighborhood of wealthy families with entirely too much time on their hands living within the “safety” of their gated homes made it entirely too easy.
Someone runs a gossip page, a weekly newsletter that goes straight to everyone's email with all the dirt and gossip they have on each other. However, one family is never mentioned. How funny is it that it's the Odettes who are the authors of this little gossip page.
It took a little maneuvering from my buddy Miro, a beta out in Michigan who knows a thing or two about technology, but we were able to break into their newsletter programming and send out one of our own.
One filled with evidence, including photos, of them selling out not only their omega daughter, which is not as much of an outrage in this community, but also their under-the-table dealings in their banking and businesses.
Showing their little community of one-uppers, the Odettes were selling the whole neighborhood promises they cannot keep.
We shared how the Odettes sold their daughter to the Fallons for half a million dollars, how they couldn't satisfy that deal, no thanks to us, and how the Odettes were the cause of the Fallons’ untimely exit from this earth.
The newsletter had two goals: the first was to ensure the Odettes stayed away from Noa. The second was that the community would understand the consequences of messing with what's mine.
I watch the panic set in. They rise from their chairs, grab their coats and throw bills onto the table. As they leave, I can't help but throw out, “Noa won't miss you.”
Knowing that they'll probably read that newsletter a million times, I added a little something at the end, something they probably didn't see today but will tomorrow.
And it can get much worse- Love Thorne.
Now I could get in trouble with the authorities since I signed the newsletter, but that would also bring out that they sold a human being, which would mean jail time for them.
I can't guarantee that they'll never contact me again, but I can say they've been warned.
I take a bite from one of their finger sandwiches. The cold cucumber hits my tongue, and honestly, I kind of want to spit it out, but I can't ruin the moment. That's some disgusting shit. Putting the chair back where I found it, I take my leave from the brunch spot, my job here complete.
Shocked eyes follow me as I walk out of the restaurant. Being in Ohio is the last place I ever want to be again. It's time for my hour-long flight back to Nashville, back to my Pack, back to my omega. Where the world is right and just. Just how I like it.