Page 51 of Captive Omega

But I have to.

I’ve charged my cell phone, but I need to use the computer again. I have to find Dexter Pieter, which means my fear has to take a back seat to that goal. Nothing else matters.

I’d risk leaving if I hadn’t killed Rupert, but somewhere in the city, Nathaniel Lang has O’Brien hunting me. I can never forget that.

I’m falling asleep, my grip on the knife loosening as my chin bumps my chest when a soft knock jolts me alert from my half-asleep state.

“Resa?”

Vaughn.

I sag in relief.

“Yeah?” I stay where I am. Betas are safe, but he might not be the only one out there.

“I’ve left a plate out here for you. See you in the morning.”

His steps are louder as he walks away. He must be doing it on purpose because I hadn’t heard his approach.

Then they stop.

“Bloodthirsty omega?”

“Yeah?” I ask, still not moving. Is it weird that I’m getting used to the name?

“There’s a reason Blaine is the way he is. If there’s one thing he would never do, it’s hurt you.”

His footsteps move away before I can summon a response that doesn’t begin and end with a curse.

I get up, unlock my door and pick up the plate I find just outside my room.

Clearing a plate of chicken, rice, and veggies takes seconds. I must have been hungrier than I thought.

After double checking I’ve locked my bedroom door, I brush my teeth and crawl into bed, my knife within easy reach under my pillow. I spend the better part of the night tossing and turning as glaring alphas and cracked heads make sleep impossible.

The next morning, I’m in the computer room Vaughn left unlocked for me, and my knife on the table close beside me. Vaughn even stuck a blue Post-it note with the password stuck to the front.

Bloodthirsty.

Something tells me that wasn’t the password before.

The door swings open, and I scramble to grab the knife until I spot who it is. I wonder if maybe I’m getting a little too attached to this knife. Then I remember what happened in the kitchen yesterday and decide, no. I’m not.

Vaughn has dressed in all black, blond hair tied back and a pleased smile pulls on his lips. “Ah, I knocked on your door, but here you are, bright and early, like a bushy-tailed squirrel already doing homework. You were a straight-A student, weren’t you?”

Me, straight A?

I snort. “Hardly.” Releasing my death-grip on my knife, I swing back to the computer I’d love to shake until it shows me how I can find Dexter Pieter. “What use is being a head of something if you spend all your time hiding?”

He crosses over to me, twists his chair around and sits on it back to front. “Nothing?”

“Have you ever met Dexter Pieter?”

“Nope.” His cell phone vibrates. He pulls it from his back pocket, glances at it, and pushes himself to his feet as he returns it to the same pocket. “As much as I wish I could stick around and help, I gotta go to work.”

“What kind of work?” I ask, curious.

He backs out, somehow missing colliding with the table on his way to the door. “Trying not to let a certain someone steal my job from under me.”

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