Chapter Eight
The motel was a few miles from the highway, which carried Roman and Sidian down to a small city called Summit Falls. The fact it was just off the highway meant no one paid Roman any attention as he made the handful of stops necessary to gather what he thought they might need for the trip ahead, and no one looked twice at where Sidian slumped against the passenger side door. The pleased little smile that curled the edge of his lips filled Roman with a stupid sort of pride, his alpha swelling up in his chest at the knowledge he’d pleased his mate.
As long as Sidian was happy, Roman was content.
Though Roman was not fond of cities, they meant larger stores brimming with thousands of customers per day and dozens of disenchanted employees who paid him no mind. A couple of people seemed concerned when they looked at him for too long, but no one spoke to him beyond the bare minimum, which was his preference even on a good day. Roman had never been much of a talker growing up despite his father’s desperate attempts to socialize him.
By the time they pulled into a truck stop to gas up the Ultima, the day was looking brighter despite the dreary clouds that hung low overhead, painting everything with the same muted, gunmetal hue.
Sidian disappeared into the truck stop’s bathroom with a drawstring bag of clothing slung over one shoulder while Roman filled up the tank, sitting in the driver’s seat with the door wide open. He stared at nothing in particular, mapping out his purchases in his head as he tried to figure out where they would go next. He’d spent a good portion of his time selecting as much clothing as he could afford, having chosen a store that had plenty of clothing at fair prices. Then he’d picked up a pair of drawstring bags from the sports department because carrying plastic bags of clothes into a gas station of any kind would look too suspicious.
This was better, but at least it was something.
When Sidian returned to the car, it was in a fresh pair of baggy jeans, a black t-shirt, a heavier plaid jacket with a gray hood tugged up over his soft dark hair, and a pair of sneakers that had looked his size. He looked likehimselfagain, which also pleased Roman’s alpha enough that he felt a rumble deep in his chest, clearing his throat to shake it off.
It was just clothing. He needed to calm the fuck down.
“Don’t think anyone paid attention to little ol’ me. Too busy digging through clearance snacks and shit,” Sidian said, settling back into the passenger seat. He cocked his head in Roman’s direction, eyebrows raised. “So. We got clothes. We got gas. What comes next?”
That was a good question. What they needed was information. “I need to think about that. And I would like to find a nicer place to stay.”
“Sounds good to me.” Sidian adjusted his seat so he could lean back, tugging his hat down to shadow his eyes as he stifled ayawn against his palm. “Might take a nap on the drive. Once we find a place, though, how do we go about hunting down Pack Kincaid?”
“If we’re lucky, I might be able to look them up.” A task that would be easier with Silver, but Roman wasn’t ready to radio back in to his captain just yet, and Jagger hadn’t called him.
“Look ‘em up?” Sidian clarified, then snorted. “Fair enough. If they could afford that place, they’re probably a bunch of rich assholes.”
Roman knew they would be. It would make killing them a messier affair because they had people to miss them when they were gone, but he would do what he needed to do for his omega.
He slid out of the car to slide the nozzle back into the pump and screw the cap back on the tank, then rejoined Sidian in the car and pulled the door shut behind him. This was as close to civilization as Roman had been in the last two years, and though he was pleased, he could still affect civility when necessary, he was still unnerved. The quiet of the Pit, broken only by the occasional shouts and arguments and scuffles, was still far and away more peaceful than this was.
Sidian adjusted himself in his seat before settling, and for just a moment, it was easy to pretend this was just a normal day for a normal couple living a normal life without the Vipers or the center of the bloodbath that prevented Roman and Sidian being ripped away from each other. In a better world, they would just be stopping for gas on the way home, or maybe on the way to a vacation spot where they could sequester themselves away from the world for a week or two.
Fucked that one up, didn’t you, Roman?
Sidian punched him in the shoulder, shaking Roman out of his daze. “Go get dressed. I want a cheeseburger. Fuck that, I wantthreecheeseburgers. And you’re paying for them.”
“Of course, Sid.” Roman picked his bag out of the backseat and slid out of the car once again, letting himself stretch out his muscles to prepare for what promised to be another long drive.
He would find somewhere quiet. More than anything, he needed to think.
Three hours outside of the city was the town of Angel Ridge, Oregon.
Tucked into the forest with narrow, cracked streets and worn buildings, it was the perfect place to stop for a bite to eat. The Ultima was only slightly newer than most of the cars in the diner’s small parking lot, and luckily, it wasn’t painted an ostentatious color that would make it impossible for them to blend in. Hopefully, though, no police drove by and felt the itch to run the plates of an unfamiliar car. Roman didn’t know why they would, but it was a concern. Even though the town gave him an air of people who kept to themselves, he knew better than to drop his guard for even a moment.
Especially with Sidian involved.
The interior of the diner was all wide glass windows and paneled wood, smelling of lemon cleaner and greasy food. Roman cast a glance around just the same, making a note of each person who sat at a booth as well as the elderly man seated at the counter.
“Just sit anywhere,” someone called out to them. “I’ll be with you in just a moment!”
Sidian made a beeline for a booth in the back tucked next to a window, and Roman followed him without a word. The seatswere smooth with no cracks, which was a pleasant surprise given the relative age of the building.
Within maybe two minutes of sitting down, a pretty blonde waitress with a fairytale princess amount of curls drawn back into a high ponytail hurried up to the table. She plucked a notepad from her apron and a pen from behind her ear; the nametag pinned to her waist readFablein cursive script; it suited her. She smelled of watermelon sugar, which told Roman that there was an alpha skulking around the kitchen. No one would let an omega work the front of the house without some kind of back-up.
And that was useful information to know.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Fable said, smoothing down her apron before she straightened up. “What can I get for the two of you?”
