Page 200 of Captive Omega

The jury is ready to deliver their verdict.

This has the possibility of being very good news or very bad. A guilty verdict means Sloane will die in prison. An innocent verdict would make me question everything. I wait near the back of the room, in my Lucas Security huddle, to find out what that news is.

“Guilty.”

After that? Carnage. Complete and utter carnage as reporters swarm toward me.

And I hear a voice I wasn’t expecting.

“Theresa?”

It’s not a good idea to leave my huddle, I get it. But that sounds like my mom and I have to see her.

“Vaughn?” I yell, since it sounds like she’s somewhere in his direction.

Vaughn shoves someone back and focuses on me. “Resa?”

“My mom!” I yell. “She’s somewhere over…” My voice trails off when I spot her.

She looks older. Her long red hair is thinner than I remember, and her blue eyes are exhausted. Dad has more gray in his dark brown hair, and his warm, deep olive skin is worn. But at the sight of me, they both suddenly look ten years younger.

They’re grinning at me, shoving people aside in a way I didn’t think they had in them.

And then they’re there.

I'm in Mom's arms. Dad is crying and he never cries, which sets me off.

Cops surge in from the back doors as Garrison, Vaughn, Frost, and Blaine block the reporters.

“This way, Theresa. We need to go with the police,” Dad yells, pulling me away.

Mom and Dad lead me away as Pack Lucas stand with their backs to me, blocking reporters from following. They are a human wall that, despite all the jostling and pushing, doesn’t give one inch.

Then the courtroom doors slam shut between us, and all I can think is that I didn’t even have a chance to say goodbye.

Chapter 56

Resa

Idreamed of this.

Clean floral sheets that smell like home. My mom’s cinnamon buns drifting up the stairs. The way the shadows would always dance across the ceiling. Dad hammering in the garage.

All good things. Cherished things.

It’s been four days since Mom and Dad brought me home, but things don’t feel the same. I’m not sure if it’s because I’ve been gone so long or if things truly are different.

I have a shower, brush my teeth, pulling on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt before I go downstairs for breakfast. It’s what I’ve done every day since cops escorted us home from court. I haven’t heard or seen Garrison, Vaughn, or Blaine since. I’m not sure what to think—or feel—about their absence when they seemed so determined to convince me to stay.

They sent me my prenatal vitamins, irons, and the replacement cell phone Garrison got for me after I chucked the last one out of the window. I’ve spoken with Isaura, who went over the last set of blood and urine results with me, confirming everything was okay after my drug induced heat.

That’s it. No calls or texts from Garrison, Vaughn, or Blaine.

Every morning, Mom greets me with a smile and a cup of tea. I take it gratefully and drift over to the window to study the cop car parked outside.

After we cried and laughed, and cried some more, cops told me that I had sent so many shockwaves rippling through the city that they’re protecting me until the furor dies down.

Sloane Eddiswood is in jail. Other alphas are staring down the same fate. The evidence that an investigative reporter splashed across the city weeks before is being used to connect those people to specific places and specific dates.

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