Page 54 of The Omega Verse

I shrug, not even able to wrap my head around the what, let alone the who or why.

“Fuck,” I whisper, tears prickling my eyes as I bend down and pick up the pieces of my Grace Lands poster. The stupid arsehole tore it below Kobi’s beautiful face, decapitating him.

I don’t realise I’m shaking until Silva pulls me in tight and wraps his arms around me. “Shh. It’s okay, Cass. Breathe. I’ve got you.”

He does – which is the only thing keeping me upright – because it’s so not okay. The place was a dump – I just told Silva that, and I meant it – but it was my dump.

I’m still trying to get my breathing under control when Silva pulls his phone from his pocket and thumbs the speaker. Tom’s worried voice instantly fills the room. “Are you alright? I just felt something major hit our bonds.”

“Holy mating voodoo,” Silva whispers, then clears his throat. “Nah, it’s bad, man. We’re upstairs in Cass’ apartment and someone has broken into the place. Her stuff is totally trashed.”

He winces at the look on my face. Or maybe it’s because of the curse Tom growls down the line. “But you’re both okay?”

“We’re… freaked out. It’s a real mess.” He reaches over and cups my cheek, his eyes sad. “I need to get her out of here. Where should we go?”

“Head straight to a public place. Cass, sweetheart, I want you to take Silva to The Lighthouse, okay? I’ll meet you there as soon as I can.”

“What about calling the cops?” Silva asks, leading me out of my room and back to the door.

“I’ll take care of that. Just stay at the pub until I come get you.” There’s the sound of a car door slamming and Tom’s clearly on the move. “Don’t hang up until I know you’re out of there safely.”

Because whoever trashed the place might still be here?

Unlikely, given the size of the apartment, but I suddenly feel a wave of gooseflesh creep across my skin. Silva takes one look at my face and hustles me downstairs. The bakery passes by in a dim blur and then we’re out on the street, breathing in salty air and hurrying towards the town lights.

The footpath is still crawling with tourists, so we follow a wave of people towards the door of the pub. My head is pounding and I have complete tunnel vision until a huge guy steps in our path and frowns down at me. “Wassup, Cass?”

I take one look at Angus’ face and burst into tears. The bouncer looks horrified, his gaze swinging to Silva and his dark eyes narrowing to deadly points. “This joker giving you grief, Cass?”

“No, he’s my mate,” I manage to get out, while Angus uses his massive bulk to shield us from onlookers.

But he’s not quick enough, a couple of drunk alphas nudging each other and pointing in our direction. “Fuck, man. Are you Silva Sterling?” One of them makes a wobbly grab for Silva’s arm and then he’s yelling at his friends, “Hey guys, it’s the drummer from the Scare Crew! In our fucking pub!”

Technically, we’re still on the pavement outside, but Angus acts as if we’re VIP patrons. “Back up, buddy!” He scowls at the guy who’s still trying to grab Silva’s arm, but there are too many people, and my mate is too much of a drawcard. In fact, patrons are actually spilling out of the pub to gawk at the commotion, and very quickly, we’re getting swarmed by shrieking fans with their phone cameras.

“Fuck, follow me!” Angus booms. “My car’s round back.”

We stick close behind him as he ploughs through the crowd, my head ringing from the sensory overload of screaming fans and flashing lights. Angus holds them back as best he can, shoving his car keys in my hand. It’s a vintage VW beetle, and in better circumstances I’d pay good money to see Angus behind the wheel of the tiny car, but right now I’m just desperate to get away.

We pile in, and I somehow back up without killing anyone. I wave to Angus, who’s reading the riot act to a bunch of pushy photographers, and then I’m taking the back streets towards the guys’ rental on the Hill. When we’re away from the crush, Silva offers to drive, but it’s giving me something to focus on other than my throbbing head. He calls Tom and explains the change of plans. He’s not happy, but says he’ll meet us there as soon as he’s through with the cops.

God. I should have stayed and dealt with that, but Tom works with the local police all the time. And I’m not sure I won’t walk back into my apartment and have my second meltdown in a week.

“I just want to go back to Willow Beach,” I tell Tom in a voice that sounds too thin and helpless to be mine. “We have to swap out Angus’ car, but I don’t want to stay at Greg’s.”

“Then go home with the other guys and I’ll take care of things here.”

I’m so relieved I swear I can feel an answering pulse of warmth in my chest. Tom murmurs a few more instructions to Silva and then his hand starts gently rubbing the back of my neck all the way up The Hill. To my relief, the other guys are already outside, their luggage in the back of matching Range Rovers. I slip Angus’ car keys in the mailbox, but then I’m engulfed in three pairs of warm arms. Kobi is giving me a bear hug while River strokes my hair and Jett glares around us like he’s planning to murder someone.

“Tom called us,” River explains. “Are you okay, sweetheart? I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

“It’s stupid,” I sniff, trying to press the tears back into my eyes with the heels of my hands. “Steven just gave me that beautiful house. I shouldn’t be whining about my crappy apartment.”

“You have every reason to be sad. No one should have to see their belongings treated that way.”

Jett grunts, his face softening as he looks at me. “C’mon, let’s get you home. Steven put a jacuzzi in that place for just this reason. You can soak while we sort this bullshit out.”

I glance past them at Greg’s glamorous mansion. “Are you really okay leaving this place? I could talk to … the owner. See if he’ll give you your money back.”

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