Page 211 of Captive Omega

A month ago, I wouldn’t have hesitated to push him in. He’s an alpha, and I’d do it happily, all the while wishing it was a pool of lava.

But now?

“No. I won’t push you in.”

He nods once and holds his arm out, gesturing me to lead the way.

Even though I know the quickest route to get back to my house, for some inexplicable reason, I take the long way back.

It is nowhere near as long as I want it to be.

He walks me right to my front door, as if this were a date. Any second now, he’s going to tell me he has to go and I still haven’t told him that I miss him. I miss them all. That my life is not the same without them in it.

“Thanks for walking me back.”

He smiles faintly at me and walks away.

I mentally chew myself out as I unlock the front door, close it, and lean my back on it. “You jumped out of a freaking window. Why can’t you just tell him how you feel?”

A knock sounds at the front door, and I drop a box, cursing when something shatters.

Mom and Dad are at work, and I’m digging through more of my boxes in Dad’s study. I’m home alone, but I’m not defenseless. And the dark gray sedan is still outside my house.

I make a brief detour to the kitchen to grab a steak knife on my way to the front door.

I put my eye to the peephole.

A man is standing on the front porch with his back to me.

I tighten my grip on my knife and open the door. “Hello?”

The man turns around.

I spent days searching for pictures of Dexter Pieter. I dug up a few side profile shots a reporter snapped when he became the youngest head of the Council.

This man in black pants and a gray button-down shirt that nearly matches his eyes appeals to me the way a poisonous snake would, and his scent makes me think of freezing rain. He would be handsome if those ice-gray eyes didn’t scare the shit out of me. Like he could kill you and then just go about with his day.

But he’s an alpha, and I don’t show weakness to alphas, so I tighten my grip on my knife. “Dexter Pieter?”

“I heard you wanted to speak with me.” His voice is cool, without a hint of emotion.

“How did you find me?”

“It wasn’t difficult.”

Terrifying words to go along with those terrifying eyes.

So what the hell are you doing standing with the front door wide open?

I prepare to slam the door in his face.

“I have Vaughn Potter aiming a rifle at the back of my head.” His voice is, if not warmer, then a touch less frigid than it was a second before. “I imagine Blaine Webb is doing likewise. Garrison Brewster, on the other hand, is sitting in the car outside watching through a pair of binoculars.”

“And the reason you’re telling me all that?” I need to do better at hiding my expression because I have a feeling I just gave myself away.

“I knew where to find you because I spoke with them and made my intentions clear. I am not here to harm you, Miss Mora, but to speak to you, if I may.”

My gaze darts to the dark gray Audi parked outside my house. The driver’s side window slides down and, as Dexter Pieter predicted, Garrison is sitting in the front seat. So they told Dexter where to find me, but they’re all here to make sure I survive this conversation.