Page 234 of Claiming the Pack's Omega
The chief of police has had his position for a little over seventeen years, and two years into his term, he revamped the entire missing persons database and system. Right around the time of the Riots.
He’s been continuing to fuck with the system, especially when it comes to Southside disappearances for both alphas and omegas alike.
We know he’s been getting paid, and getting paid well, but we just don’t know who exactly is orchestrating this all.
It has to be someone from the Northside. Someone big.
We’ve known this ever since we realized that the Sorel Family was operating with resources they wouldn’t have had access to without Northside backing.
“Look, son, I don’t know what this is about, but?—”
“Do not ‘son’ me,” I snap.
He’s not going to undermine my authority here, not when he’s played a role in letting hundreds, hell, maybe even thousands of people go missing over the past fifteen years.
“Turn around and put your hands behind your back, you’re under arrest,” I say.
“Like fuck I am,” the chief growls, his face growing red with anger. “Where’s your proof? What crimes have I committed?”
“I already spelled out what you’re being arrested for,” I growl, taking a menacing step forward.
My fingertips buzz with the burning fury that hasn’t left my system since Reyna was taken. I feel a vicious sort of excitement pumping through my veins. I’m excited to fuckingdosomething, anything, that gets us closer to bringing her home.
The chief is stupid, because when I grab his arm to put the cuffs on him, he struggles.
With all the adrenaline pumping through my system, I’m able to slam him to the ground easily enough.
He roars with anger as I press his face into the cold marble floor of his foyer. One of the other officers works to put the cuffs on him as I hold him down.
“Guess we’re adding assault on an officer to the list of charges,” I huff.
I haul the shirtless chief of police to his feet. His face is so red and spit flies from his mouth as he snarls insults at all of us.
“Daddy!” A woman’s shrill voice calls. “What the hell is fucking going on here?”
I glance up to the staircase and let out a frustrated sigh.
Brandi, the chief of police’s daughter, storms over to us.
One of the other officers intercepts her before she makes it to us and stops her with a hand on her shoulder.
“Who’s in charge here! What’s the meaning of this!” She shrieks.
There’s something about the frequency of her voice that seems to pierce my brain like an ice pick.
“What do we do with this shitshow,” one of the officers next to me grumbles.
“I’ll handle this,” I sigh. “Take the chief to the station, I’ll handle this.”
Brandi has built up a reputation over the years. She’s very willing to misuse police resources to further whatever stupid agenda she has in her brain and pulls the “do you know who my daddy is?” card often.
She won’t be able to do that anymore.
“Stop yelling at my officer before I arrest you for obstruction of justice,” I growl.
“I’ll stop yelling when someone tells me what you’re doing to my daddy!” She snaps. “There must’ve been a mistake!”
She sure calls her dad, Daddy, an awful lot for a woman in her twenties.
