Page 63 of Chosen Beta

I think about those locked basement rooms again, but I’d rather go back down there and check them while the security office is unoccupied. It’s unlikely those rooms are hiding anything other than old files, but if there’s the tiniest chance of uncovering something potentially explosive, literally, or otherwise, I can’t ignore it.

I pretend to be occupied with a boring as fuck matching game I download to keep my hands busy, but really, I’m listening to Lana work while I wait impatiently for lunch to arrive and bring another chance to talk with her.

Eating isn’t a big deal for me.

Not like it is for Shadow.

He enjoys food so much, it’s almost a kink for him.

I eat because I need to. Sure, sometimes the food is nice, and sometimes it’s not even really about the food as much as it’s about sharing a moment. I can appreciate it, but I’d skip it for anything more important in a heartbeat.

Doing all I can to protect Lana is my biggest priority right now.

So, I wait in restrained silence for lunch to arrive.

And I think about all the things I want to do to the creep who’s targeting Lana.

As far as pastimes go, it’s a lot more fun than the dumb game I downloaded.

Chapter Twenty

Shadow

Channel surfing on YouTube is only fun when you’re supposed to be doing something else.

Too bad I’m up to date with all my usual podcasts. I’m excited for lunch so I’m really not paying much attention to anything I’m watching besides.

Even the true crime stuff goes in one ear and straight out the other.

Well, until the Goldcrest Academy conspiracy theory stuff starts to filter into my feed.

Ever since the notorious serial killer Frank Palmer murdered a bunch of people here, armchair detectives have been trying to figure out what he was doing out here.

The boring theory is that the bastard son he was obsessed with was working here at the time, or maybe just shortly before he showed up here. The records don’t seem to verify that, but it’s the most likely and least outlandish explanation.

Some of the other theories people are pushing are just plain crazy.

He had a pretty specific M.O. up until he came out here.

Reporters, cops, and anyone with a brain agree that he must have gone off the rails when he couldn’t get into the building. Psychotic people don’t tend to do well when they don’t get what they want. His victims that night were unlucky bystanders.

The fact that he was killed later that night by the same son he was suspected of coming to the academy to see only makes that theory even more likely.

The video I stumble across has a slightly different take, and despite how batshit it sounds, I can’t help but watch the two twenty-something girls with their gossipy schoolkid vibes.

“I know, I know, the whole freaking world believes he was there to see his son,” the brunette says. “But he could have visited him at home, or whatever. Did he really have to go to the place he was working? Especially when it’s so well guarded.”

“Right,” the blonde nods. “That totally doesn’t make any sense.”

“But do you know what does?”

“Um … Alpha creeps wanting to steal Omegas?”

“Totally,” the brunette nods.

I can’t say they’re wrong about that. I’ve had an experience or two with Alpha creeps, and if it wasn’t for Pete, who the hell knows what might have happened to me in the past?

I shudder as I watch these two discussing Frank Palmer and his motives for visiting Goldcrest.

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