Page 32 of Capturing Their Omega

She starts to come back to us, and I can see the fear on her face. We now know Cassie came home. Why was she still panicking this much?

But then again, if Cassie came back here, why isn’t she at home? Could she be in the main house?

I don’t trust Cassie’s mom right now. However, I call out to her as she starts to head toward the gardens. “Miss. Munt! What should we do?”

She turns to face us, eyes unfocused, like she had forgotten we were there.

“Please go home,” she says in a shaky voice. “I know it must be confusing right now, and you will get your answers, but for now, please go home.”

With that, she goes off in search of Cassie, and we are forced to stand there watching at her leave. We can’t cause a ruckus on the Kaye family estate and go after her to help look for Cassie.

This is frustrating. Eric looks like he wants to jump the gate and follow her.

I grab my brother’s arm. “Let’s go home. We will wait until the end of the day, and if we don’t get any new information, we will go to the police.”

Chapter Ten

Cassie

Beep, beep, beep.

I swallow harshly, feeling tightness in my throat. Panic surges through me as I try to figure out where I am. The last thing I remember is Leila’s face. Fuck! Leila…

My eyes spring open, my vision blurry.

“Shit,” I groan, massaging my temple with my hand.

The unwelcoming white walls threaten to blind me, and the smell of harsh cleaning solvents fills my nostrils. I am at a clinic, that is certain. But who brought me here?

“You are finally awake.”

And then I see her.

Leila. Her figure is perched on the sofa opposite me.

I stare at her, confused and terrified. Was the incident in the bathroom not enough? Were my answers so unsatisfactory that she’d come to the clinic to force answers from me?

“How did I get here?” I ask, wincing a bit at my sore throat.

God, I sound so weak and tired.

“You fainted. I brought you here,” she deadpans.

I narrow my eyes slightly, taking a quick glance around, noting how serene the environment seems. This all feels off.

“Care to tell me,” Leila says, getting up and walking toward me, her mouth pressed in a hard line, “why you were taking those pills?”

Huh?

“What pills?”

“You know what I’m talking about. The pills you were desperate for in the bathroom,” she states, her tone flat.

What? Is she dense?

I avert my gaze, staring at the blanket hanging off the bed frame. “I’m sick,” I whisper.

“What?”

---