Page 87 of Captive Omega

His gaze lingers on me, and then he sighs, signaling he’s dropping the issue.

For now.

“She was restless. Barely sleeping. Sound familiar?”

“Yes.” I abandon making lunch and close the refrigerator. My appetite has evaporated with thoughts of doctors and clinics. “It sounds a lot like an alpha who likes to stay up all night playing puzzles.”

Garrison is trying not to smile. When he scrubs his hand over his mouth, I know he just failed to contain it. “I walked right into that, didn’t I?”

There are some moments I let myself relax, where I’m not thinking of how I can stand at an angle that means whoever I’m talking to isn’t seeing my right side head on. Those moments are far and few between, and will usually happen with Garrison.

I’m too guilty to relax around Vaughn.

Garrison is right, though. It’s not like me to have trouble sleeping. Sleeping has always been a retreat from the pain, the guilt, and the scars.

But last night, I was picking at a case I know better than to touch.

Resa’s case.

If we find Dexter Pieter for her, she will leave, and I’m equally aware that this research could lead to something that could take her away from us in another, more permanent way. None of us have met Dexter. We don’t know his motivations.

“Why do you think he makes himself so unreachable?” I ask Garrison before he can steer the conversation into one involving me dodging my annual checkup.

His long look tells me he knows exactly what I’m doing. “You know, I wouldn’t mind getting your opinion.”

Because if anyone likes to hide, it’s me, I think bitterly.

But Garrison isn’t looking at me like he thinks less of me. He’s interested in my answer because I’m the one who lives and breathes research.

Years ago, I wouldn’t have thought twice before I answered a question like that. I’d have rambled on for so long he’d have shaken his head and told me he wanted the condensed version, not the encyclopaedic.

I lean against a kitchen counter and try to think myself back to the Blaine Webb I was five years ago.

“Dexter Pieter is an unknown. No one hides so much of their life unless they have something they don’t want people to know.”

Experience has taught us that thing is never good.

Garrison slowly nods. “And your perception of him?”

I don’t answer. My perception of things is skewed. He knows this. So why is he asking?

“Blaine?” he presses, which isn’t like him. Vaughn is the one who tests my boundaries.

“I’m not sure,” I lie.

If we could make Resa forget all about her need to speak to Dexter Pieter, I would do it in a heartbeat. I don’t trust him. Things have been rotten in the city for years. Nothing is improving.

It’s plain to see that free heat clinics should have been regulated from the start. If they had been, the Asylum members wouldn’t have gotten away with what they were doing for years, if not decades.

Dexter Pieter launched an investigation, but that statement came from his spokesman. If there was ever a time for him to show he gave a shit about the plight of omegas like Resa, he’d have given that statement himself. Instead, he hides.

I say none of that to Garrison. I’m probably wrong.

I turn to leave.

“The party,” he says, watching me closely.

I pause. “What about it?” I hadn’t wanted to go to the party. What I wanted even less was for someone to hurt Resa because Garrison was a man down. After I scared her, the least I could do was make sure no one hurt her. So I went.

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