Page 42 of Captive Omega

A green-haired workaholic.

A flirty beta who juggles throwing stars as he walks down the stairs.

Another who tried to convince me he was a selkie.

And a scarred alpha who wouldn’t look me in the eye and doesn’t seem to like being touched.

I fork a piece of cold pancake into my mouth, chewing as I push myself to my feet. The sooner I find out what I need to know, the sooner I can leave these strange people and forget I ever met them.

Chapter 12

Resa

I’m breaking into a computer room and things are not going well when someone clears their throat behind me.

I whirl around.

Vaughn is grinning at me, delighted. “Are you breaking and entering?”

I tuck my knife behind my back. “No.”

He cocks his head, frowning as he studies the metal handle. “A door like that needs a thinner knife, and you’d need to slip it between the door and frame to find the bolt. Trying to turn the lock will only break the tip of the knife. Any knife.”

He’s not seriously telling me how to do it.

Is he?

“I wasn’t breaking and entering.” I stick the knife into my back pocket and show him my empty hands. “See?”

“Well, if you were doing what I thought you were doing, you’ll never get in that way. You want to unhook the bolt from the bottom up.” He pulls a thin knife from his pocket and places it on a small black side table. “Anyway, I’ll see you around.”

How can someone in jeans and a tee be pulling out knives like he’s in combat gear?

And he walks away, whistling.

Leaving me with instructions about how to break in, the means to do it, and wondering—not for the first time—how many knives he keeps on him.

I give it two minutes, listening to make sure Vaughn has actually gone, and this isn’t some trick. When no one appears, I hobble over to the table, snatch up the knife and go back to fighting with the door.

Even with instructions, I’m no closer to getting the door open. Vaughn made it sound easy. Slide the knife between the door and the frame and unhook the bolt by lifting up. Easy.

It isn’t easy.

“You’re not lifting it high enough.”

I squeal.

My feet leave the floor and I slam my shoulder into the door as I whirl around, dropping the knife with a loud clatter.

It’s Vaughn, leaning on the wall, arms folded and eyes narrowed in concentration, giving me the impression he’s been there a while.

Caught red-handed. There’s no denying what I was up to.

With my heart still in my throat from the shock he gave me, I watch him, waiting for his response.

“I’ll show you.”

As he strolls toward me, I back away. I tell myself I’m giving him space to work, but I’m not sure who I’m fooling. I’m certainly not fooling myself.

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