I shook my head. “He didn’t tell me he was,” I admitted, “but I guess that means he’s probably ready to get divorced, too. Can you draw the papers up?”
Drey cocked a brow at me. “The message doesn’t say anything about that.”
“It makes sense, doesn’t it?”
Drey frowned. “I guess. I feel like there’s more going on than just this, though.”
“Not really,” I lied. No longer hungry, I shoved my plate away. “Anyway, let’s get back to the reason we’re here.”
“Yeah, sure,” Drey agreed with a sympathetic smile. “Chuck forwarded me the intake forms from when Paul was placed at Omega Destiny, International. There are enough inconsistencies on them to bring fraud charges against Senator Davis. That combined with his apparent involvement in the kidnapping will be more than enough to bring to the District Attorney to have him prosecuted. Do you want to press charges or do you need to talk to Paul first?”
I considered that and then nodded. If Paul was ready to move on from me, I needed to be sure he didn’t have to keep looking over his shoulder. “Have them hit him with everything we can.”
“Will do,” Drey agreed, a slight frown knitting his brows together. “Is there anything I can do?”
I shook my head. “Just help me get this cleaned up so that he never has to fear that prick again, Drey. That way he can move on with his life.”
“Okay.” Drey shoved his own empty plate away. “I’ll put together everything I can and forward it to the DA’s office, then they’ll call to confirm that you want to press charges.”
“Great.” I stood and tossed a few bills on the table. “Thanks for all your help.”
I was already pulling out of the parking lot when I realized I hadn’t bothered to wait for his response. I thumbed out a text apologizing for my quick exit, followed by another one telling Paul that I wouldn’t be home until late and then I turned my phone off and turned the truck to the north.
The drive to the graveyard took about three hours and the sun was high in the sky when I pulled to a stop at the ancient, wrought-iron gate. Leaving the truck outside the rusty fence, I started along the overgrown path, stooping to pull chunks of weeds and grass that had forced their way up through the cracking concrete of the walking path. Making a mental note to complain to the groundskeeper about the state of the burial, I made my way to the peaceful hilltop mausoleum that had been set aside for my family when the five-hundred year old cemetery had first opened. The stone building was covered in decades of ivy but even under a layer of grime the ornate stained-glass window still sparkled in the sun.
Pulling the antique key from my pocket, I flinched against the familiar groan of metal on metal as the door inched open, mentally chastising myself for once again forgetting the oil I kept meaning to bring. Once it was open, I hesitated another long moment to allow the blinding sunlight a chance to scare off any bugs or small rodents that may have made their way inside.
One by one, I stroked my fingers over the dusty, burnished-gold coffins of my ancestors, murmuring a blessing as old as my species as I passed each one, stopping when I reached the last of the three-tiered mahogany shelves and the single gold urn the middle shelf held in place of the ornate matching coffins that filled the rest of the crypt.
Inscribed with my deceased wife’s birth and death dates, there were additional notations beneath her name to indicate the two unnamed children that had been taken from me when their mother killed herself.
Pulling a handkerchief from my pocket, I polished the urn until it gleamed. I then turned to the coffin on the shelf beneath it and gently removed the dust from it as well before stroking my finger over the simple nameplate that proclaimed it the eternal resting place of Jafari, my first husband.
Stepping back to lean against the empty space on the opposite wall, space that likely would never be filled as I was the last of my line, I gazed at them, taking in the empty top shelf that would eventually be my own resting place and shook my head.
“Selfish,” I muttered out loud to myself. “You’ve already had two great loves, one that ended in tragedy. Why would you think you deserved another?”
The truth was that I knew I didn’t. And even if I hadn’t known that, I’d known from the beginning of my involvement with Paul that I could never be more than a stepping stone on his life’s path, someone to help boost him on as he traveled the road to his true destiny.
Maybe if I told myself that enough times it would finally sink in.
Turning away from the loved onesin front of me, I shook the dust from the handkerchief and returned to the front of the crypt and the decades of dust that were obscuring my family history. After all, with nowhere to go but home and a heart that I wasn’t sure could take being unable to hold my Omega, I had plenty of time to kill.
Chapter Forty-Two
Paul
I’ll be out until late. Sylas
I read through the cryptic text for at least the hundredth time since I’d received it that morning. The lunch I’d prepared for him before I’d gotten the text had been scooped into the trash. The simple supper of meatloaf, mashed potatoes with gravy and corn had long since gotten cold and was currently congealing on the plate on the table as I stared out the living room window into the darkness.
I’d come to count on getting myalpha fixas Sylas teasingly called it almost constantly through his regular casual touches as well as the deeply satisfying and more intimate contact we had, and now that it had been nearly eighteen hours since I’d woken snuggled against him, not only was I starting to feel the unpleasant bone-deep itch associated with a pregnant Omega being separated from their Alpha, there was also a nerve-wracking combination of fear and worry about why he’d been gone so long.
When midnight came, I scraped the food from his plate and placed it in the dishwasher before climbing into bed to toss and turn.
When sleep finally came, it was fitful with a series of strange, unsettling dreams repeatedly waking me only to find that I was still alone in the bed. When the sun finally began to peek over the horizon, I gave up and dragged myself from the bed and into the kitchen to make coffee. When I looked out the kitchen window, I was startled to see Sylas slumped back in one of the patio chairs, his arms crossed over his chest.
Coffee forgotten, I ran for the door, nearly knocking myself out when I ended up running into it. Why in the hell was the door locked if Sylas was on the patio? Flipping the lock and trying again, I rushed out onto the patio, my stomach clenching when Sylas gave me a confused look.
