Page 74 of Chosen Beta

There’s something kind of weird about it.

I wouldn’t be surprised to find out they’re all being held hostage.

That’s what pushed me to drag my ass out to the city.

The thought that my pack might be in trouble.

If they’re not …

I’m gonna be pretty pissed off.

I take my phone out of my pocket, and I send Ezra a text, letting him know I’m outside the gates.

The guy in the booth has probably already reported my lingering car to whoever he reports to.

Ezra gets back to me in a few seconds, telling me I’ll be let inside soon.

I guess he’s gonna talk to his boss, whoever’s in charge of this hellhole.

I slip the phone back into my pocket.

My hands go back to the wheel.

My gaze moves back to the gate.

I don’t bother to start the car’s engine until the gates start to open.

It takes a good few minutes, then they slowly start to move inward.

I don’t release the handbrake until the gates stop moving.

Crawling onto the dirt road of the property, I’m stopped by the guy in the booth before I can get very far. Sighing, I roll down my window as I roll to a stop at his window.

He’s a big guy, with a tough expression on his miserable face.

I bet he hates this gig, sitting in a tiny booth for hours with fucking nothing to do.

“Straight ahead,” he tells me in monotone. “Car park is at the front of the building. Someone will be at the door when you get there.”

I wait, but apparently that’s all the instruction he’s there to give.

The threat I expected to hear doesn’t come.

Huh.

Maybe they’re more subtle about their warnings these days.

I guess it’s possible they don’t feel the need to threaten anyone who isn’t explicitly here to spend time with their Omegas. It’s also possible that they’re saving that shit for once I’m inside.

I roll up the window and restart the engine. I drive carefully over the dirt road, moving forward at a slow, steady pace in the darkness. The road feels kind of narrow because of the trees at either side of me, and I don’t want to ruin my paintwork because of a branch I didn’t see until it was too late.

When I break through the trees, I can see there are lights up ahead, showing the front of the building on the left, and a small car park to my right. There’s a large unlit patch of ground at the left side of the building, after the treeline ended. If I remember my invitation, that’s the side they only ever lit up on social event nights, to allow visiting Alphas’ easy access to the ballroom.

I’d feel better about parking over there, in the darkness where I know no one’s watching tonight, but I follow the guard’s instructions to avoid any unknown repercussions. I find an empty space in the brightly lit parking lot across from the front doors of the building, and I reverse into it.

Killing the engine, I stare across at the entrance.

The doors have been renewed. Probably thanks to the fire Frank Palmer reportedly started before his death. Every minute of the lame dramatized version of what happened that night wasburned into my brain when it hit the streaming service we use, thanks to Shadow’s obsession with true crime.

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