Chapter 137
Chapter One Hundred-Thirty-Seven
Robin
Idon’t know when or why I lay down in the backseat of the cop car, but apparently at some point during the long trip, I decided to take a nap. I vaguely remembering yawning after an hour or so spent in silence. We must have been travelling for hours.
The sound of the driver’s door being slammed woke me.
I realize what that means as I push myself back up to a sitting position.
We’ve stopped moving.
My stomach clenches.
If I thought I was going to be alert enough at this point to fight back against the detective, I was so wrong it’s not even funny. I’m tired as hell. That probably has something to do with not eating all day and then pushing myself past my physical limits.
The door to my right side is hauled open.
“Get out,” Warren demands, his tone vicious.
It’s dark out, but we must be close to a streetlight.
The sidewalk in front of me is clear.
And so is the gun he’s been threatening me with since he kidnapped me.
“I’m moving,” I tell him, not wanting to make him threaten me again.
He’s made enough threats to last me a lifetime.
I don’t want to hear any more.
I shuffle along to the end of the seat and then I step out onto the sidewalk slowly.
My muscles feel a little stiff, and my balance is slightly wonky.
I doubt Dr. Clarke would be too happy with my health right about now.
How much rest and recovery I’m going to need isn’t going to matter unless I find my way out of whatever fresh hell this creep has in store for me.
“Where are we?” I ask, stepping out of his way as he starts to push the door closed.
“You’ll see. Soon enough,” he mutters, before he prods me in the back with the gun.
I move forward, one slow step at a time.
He sighs, clearly annoyed with my speed.
“We’re headed to the next house in the street, over there.”
He points until I look at where he’s gesturing.
The street we’re on is fancy, I guess.
It looks a lot like the street Ivan Hamilton’s house was on.
All the houses are detached and there’s a lot of space between the properties.
The one he pointed at has a long path leading up to the front porch, with a paved driveway on the left, and a neatly trimmed lawn with flower beds by the side of the path.
He basically told me he took me from the academy to give me to someone.
I don’t understand why.
I’m just a Beta.
My mother was an Omega, but I’m not special.
It doesn’t make sense.
Why me?
He prods me all the way down that path, and when we get close to the door, outdoor lights come on like they’ve been activated by a sensor.
Everything is made clearer as we approach the porch.
The front door is red. The house is white.
There’s a rocking chair on the porch, swaying lightly in the breeze.
The light goes on in the window to the right of the door.
I walk up the porch steps.
The door opens before I reach it.
And suddenly, everything clicks into place.
“Robin, you’re here,” my father enthuses, as if I came out here of my own freewill. “Your sister will be so pleased.”