Page 60 of Knot All That Glitters: Part 2

“I can’t help myself,” I mutter sullenly. “I sleep better with their scents around me.”

Ren makes a sympathetic noise. “I know you do, babe. It’s yet another reason you should think about giving them a second chance.”

I sink my teeth into my bottom lip to keep myself from blurting out a denial. Part of me wants to, but I know I can’t. Ren isn’t saying this off the cuff. She genuinely cares about me, and if she thought there was a chance of the Calloway pack hurting me all over again, she would tell me to get as far from them as possible.

She must see something in the way they interact with me, something redeeming in them, or she wouldn’t say it.

Or maybe it’s me she sees it in. Maybe she knows deep down at the very heart and tender core of me, I’m still very much in love with the Calloway pack. Maybe she can tell on some level, I’m willing to take whatever pieces of themselves they’ll give me.

Not their hearts, those belong to Janie, but their bodies, their time, their protection and care.

Maybe those pieces will be enough.

It’s late. Well, after midnight. The house is quiet, the alphas on the premises tucked away in bed, asleep no doubt, but I can’t seem to settle.

My conversation with Ren is swirling around my head. If the Calloway pack is, in fact, holding off on taking down my father to spend more time with me, I’m both flattered and frustrated.

It’s a ridiculous situation.

I need out of it.

I need my father to be behind bars, away from doing harm to myself or anyone else. I need space from the Calloway pack to process what happened and my feelings about it.

It’s been impossible to do that while here in their house surrounded by their scents, while they wait on me hand and foot and feed me almost anything I want. I can’t gain perspective while their pheromones are making me crazy for them.

And I need that goddamn perspective.

So if they aren’t going to let me go until my father is taken care of, and they aren’t going to follow through with their plan, then I’m just going to do it myself.

With that thought in mind, I throw off my blankets and pad on silent feet downstairs.

The alphas are still as tight-lipped about what exactly they’ve been planning as ever, but I have to assume they have a record of what they’ve been doing somewhere, a file of evidence or—I don’t know—a handy white board with step-by-step instructions to my father’s downfall.

If I was brave enough, I’d look at Jude’s laptop, try to break into it. If they’re going to have any kind of written plan, it’s probably there, but I can’t escape the sick trepidation that fills me at what else I might find. Maybe he didn’t delete the videos, or hell, maybe there are more now, of me and Creed when I stupidly gave into my body’s needs and my omega’s instincts.

My entire being rejects the idea of looking in Jude’s laptop, so I instead make my way to Hale’s office.

I haven’t set foot in the room the entire time I’ve been here. But as soon as I cross the threshold, memories take hold. On that desk right there is where I broke through my father’s commands, used my voice and talked to Creed and Hale while they brought me to the peak of pleasure together.

Forcing the thoughts away, I make myself focus on the task at hand. Find something that I can use against my father if they won’t, some bit of evidence that will back up my claims, so he won’t be able to call me a liar, or worse, a ‘confused omega’ who obviously needs an alpha to watch over her, to keep her from doing something stupid, like accuse her own father of being a monster.

I start with the filing cabinet. It’s only two drawers and unlocked. It’s stuffed full, but it doesn’t take me long to realize that there’s nothing pertaining to my father in any of the folders. I don’t know why there would be. It’s not like they’d have one helpfully labeled as ‘Our plan to take down Frederick Bell’ or anything.

But after scanning a few of the pages in every file, I don’t see a mention of my father anywhere. It’s mostly bills and financial information. Which… apparently the Calloway pack is very well off. One of them must be an investment genius, because their portfolios are nearing a billion dollars. Now I understand how Tic can mostly self fund his research.

My omega practically purrs seeing those numbers, even more confident that they can take care of us. But I push the feeling aside. It’s never been about money for me. My father has plenty of it, and he’s still an asshole who never protected me the way he should have.

If the Calloway pack was living paycheck to paycheck or only middle class, it wouldn’t bother me if the love and devotionis there. That’s what matters most to me, not what their money can buy.

I close the filing cabinet as softly as I can and move to the desk, keeping my gaze away from the surface where I was stretched out and laid bare, where I writhed and cried out for them. This was a stupid idea. Coming down here, hoping to find the smoking gun they are undoubtedly hiding.

I have to try, don’t I?

I start with his drawers on the right. Legal pads and pens fill the top one. The middle is a mess of USB and other cords, obviously a dumping ground for electronic doodads. The bottom drawer has different sized envelopes. Like a weird number of them, actually.

On the left side, tossed carelessly in the top drawer is what I first think is a credit card, but on closer inspection looks to be a key card. All black with glittery red writing on it. Shock and Awe.

I frown and stare at it long and hard for a moment. The name bringing with it the memory of overhearing my father tell Brian he was going to be late to a business meeting at an establishment of this name. Actually, I’m sure he’s mentioned it more than once.

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