Page 7 of Rot In Knotty Pieces

“Dad, I’m afraid this is going to have to be a parting of ways. I just think that we’ve gone too far in different directions.”

His dad stumbles and drops to his knees, hands together in a pleading, begging gesture that Sage completely ignores. He grabs the gun in a direct move that ends up breaking the delicate bones in Cassiopeia's fingers. She screams and turns, trying to run.

Sage picks up a piece of wood and throws it hard at the back of her knee. His aim is perfect. She goes down hard, landing in the dusty room with a crash.

“You said you were going to kill my Rose.”

Sage is stuck on that.

“You raised a gun on my alpha.”

They look at me in terror.

“I think it’s time I took out the trash,” Sage says in an eerily flat voice.

He murders his father and stepmother with meticulous and cruel efficiency. They suffer. Alot. But two days later, they are very, very dead.

In the end…he is exactly what they made him.

A rabid dog they couldn’t control.

“Baby?” I say, moving confidently towards him. “Shall we resume our hunt?”

Sage flicks some brain matter off his top. “Yes, I think we should.”

We have a clue. Just one.

Apparently, their private investigator saw a man matching Roseland’s description in a small town. He’s been there ever since, watching them, we have an agreement to meet. Little does he know, our meeting will be the last he ever attends.

First, we’ll go and get rid of that man, then we’ll stake out the town, if there’s even the slightest chance it’s them, we’ll find them.

Rolly and King make sure the whole place burns so fiercely no one will find any trace, and then we resume our hunt for the omegas we’ve lost.

And when we find them…God help anyone who tries to hurt them again.

Sage

Some people believe in fate. Some believe in chance. I’m not sure what I believe in, but there must have been some kind of god or entity watching over me at that exact moment. We’d been in the small town for weeks. It’s been almost five more weeks since we had that awful phone call from Daega.

Eleven weeks.

I had, in a fit of frustration, decided to get out of the house we’d rented and walk down to the local market. It’s one of those in-a-carpark boot markets, but there is a beta there who sells the best freshly squeezed juice icy.

I walk back sipping and absently wondering what the hell we are still doing here. There has been no sign of them. The last thing I want to do is go home and get into another argument with Blaze, so I decide to take the longer route, and I walk past a house. Nothing special about it. Big shrubs form an almost natural barrier, and five foot wood panel fences hide the rest.

And it was a flash, just the smallest amount, just enough to send my heart tripping over itself as I struggle not to shout her name. I don’t want to lose them again, so I clamp my mouth shut, refusing to let out any sound that might indicate that their cover is blown.

She runs past the fence again. This time, it’s clearer. I recognise that body, I know it intimately.

In the smallest of gaps, I watch for her. My stomach jolts, and I run closer, peering through gaps, desperate to see her again. For the first time in weeks, I feel close.

I almost float across the footpath, begging myself not to get my hopes up in case I’m wrong as I move around the property.

Another flash.

I could cry. It’s her, I know it.

I step back out of sight and ring the pack. It kills me to wait, kills me, but I circle the house. It’s a corner property, and she’s running around the back and side. As I approach the front of it, I start shaking.