“Robbed?” he asked, sounding a little more awake. “When? Now? What did they take? Anything of value? Anything that belongs to the family? Heirlooms?”
“I don’t know. Not exactly,” I told him, already feeling that tugging of irritation. “My home was vandalized. As far as I can tell, they took some electronics and a few other personal items. I don’t think it’s anything that can’t be replaced though. They’re just things.”
“Andthisis why you are the way that you are,” he said. “Justthings! Things have value. Value is money. And money’s what makes the world go round. I’ve told you this time and time again, and you just don’t listen.”
I held my breath, counted to ten, and let it out slowly.
Anger lapped at me like acid. I knew better than to expect compassion from him. He’d always been more worried about the value of belongings than about my safety. It didn’t matter that I could’ve been hurt or kidnapped. All that would’ve mattered was how much it would cost to get me back.
“Look, Father. I just wanted to let you know I’m safe. I have to go down to the precinct for questioning tomorrow morning, so I need to get to bed. Sorry for waking you.”
My father huffed. “Next time, put a hole in that hoodlum. That’ll keep him from robbing anyone again. Can’t commit crimes when he’s dead.”
I gritted my teeth. He couldn’t commit crimes when he was behind bars, either, but I didn’t say that. I didn’t say anything.
I kept thinking about the Omega huddled on the floor, his green eyes staring at me in horror as I held the gun steady on him. I didn’t want to shoot him; violence was the last thing on my mind. I just didn’t want him to get away.
“Goodnight, Father,” I said, and hung up the phone.
I went upstairs, put the gun away, and laid down in bed. Flipping the bedside lamp off, I curled up and tried to go back to sleep.
But I couldn’t get the Omega’s wide, frightened eyes out of my mind.
The next morning,I went down to the police station. As it turned out, the Omega’s name was Fletcher Rose.
“He swore up and down that it wasn’t his idea,” the officer from last night—Maynard?—told me. “But he isn’t exactly spilling his guts either. We don’t know who the ringleader was behind the robbery, but we’re going to grill him until he tells us. Don’t worry, Mr. Sinclair. We’ll figure it out.”
I heaved a sigh and shook my head. Did it really matter? Sure, I didn’t want whoever it was to come back and finish the job. Would they try to break in a second time? Or would they sell off what they stole and avoid the area? That would be the wiser move.
“Mr. Sinclair, do you plan on pressing charges?” Maynard asked me, his brows furrowing. “I’m afraid the kid doesn’t have much to his name. Doesn’t even have a wallet or an ID on him. I’m pretty sure he’s homeless.”
For some reason, that made me ache.
Yeah, he’d robbed me—or attempted to—but maybe he had a reason. If he reallywasliving on the streets? That was enough to make anybody try to rob someone, to steal things just to pawn them off so they’d have a little money. Not knowing where your next meal would come from?
I couldn’t even imagine that kind of life. Admittedly, I’d been born with a silver spoon in my mouth. I wanted for nothing.Sure, my family was a little messed up, but I never went hungry. Never slept on a street bench.
“Mr. Sinclair?” the cop pressed.
I shook my head. “No. But I would like to speak with him once you’re finished, assuming you’re going to release him on bail.”
Officer Maynard let out a small snort. “No one’ll pay his bail,” he said, but I held up my hand.
“I’ll pay it,” I told him, earning a confused look from the man. He blinked at me a couple of times, no doubt wondering why the Alpha who’d been burglarized last night was paying his robber’s bail, but he’d probably seen stranger things before in his line of work because he shrugged.
“Of course,” he said. “Come with me.”
He turned and walked down the long, white-tiled hall, leading me to a room with two hard plastic chairs and a single folding table. An interrogation room, maybe? I didn’t know. I wasn’t one for police shows. I preferred comedy and action films.
“Would you like a cup of coffee?”
“That would be lovely,” I said. “Thank you. Two creams and a sugar, please.”
“Sure thing. Like I said, we’ll do our best to be quick.”
I wasn’t sure if he was talking about the coffee or the interrogation. I hoped he meant both, because I had an idea. Probably not the brightest idea, but the seed had been planted, and it was growing like a vine around my soul.
What if…
