Page 61 of Waiting for Fate
When their security team lets them know it is time to call it a night, I feel Omen tense beside me. Part of me wants to demand we leave now, before Pack Graves can step into this room and do more damage to my fragile bestie, but a sharp look from Foster reminds me that isn’t my call to make. Crossing my arms over my chest, I plaster my most spiteful expression on. Let these bastards try to tear Omen down. I will destroy their career before burying them alive. Fucking assholes.
Someone knocking on my nest door pulls me from the clutches of sleep. Stumbling into my bedroom, I jolt when something crashes against our front door. What the fuck is happening?!
Crouching, I slip through my bedroom door and hurry into Omen’s. The glow of her phone from the side draws my attention to where she’s sitting with her head on her knees. Dark circles line her eyes, and the sunken shape of her cheeks makes my stomach roll. She somehow looks even worse than she did before we went to the concert. I knew I shouldn’t have let those jerks in Pack Graves see her.
Foster had pulled me out of the room in the middle of their so-called apology when I tried to call them on their shit. Whatever half-assed excuses they came up with after I left must have been more draining for Omen than she let on. Sinking onto the floor beside her, she pulls the screen away from her ear so I see she called the police. I lean my head against her shoulder, needing the comfort of physical contact to calm my growing anxiety. The 9-1-1 operator’s responses are muted, but the sound still helps to calm me.
Several minutes later Omen shifts away, pulling me to my feet on her way to the living room. I blink several times to clear the sleep from my eyes before noticing the red and blue lights outside of the window. Oh, the police are here. Good.
I follow her to meet them at the door, flinching when the officer points out the broken piece of our reinforced door. My instincts are going haywire, panic building in my stomach.
Someone tried to break into our apartment.
Were they after Omen? After her father was arrested and his cult was dismantled, we thought the threats against her were gone.
“While your security measures seem strong enough to stand if the attacker returns, it would be best for the two of you to stay elsewhere for the next couple of days.”
My mind sluggishly follows the officer’s words, a thank you numbly slipping from my lips before he steps back outside. Omen grabs our suitcases as I finally catch up to what is happening. Usually, we would go to my parent’s house, but no one is home. We’d be just as vulnerable in my childhood home as we are here.
“Where are we gonna go?”
She stops and stares at me for a beat before swearing. “I’ll call Donovan.”
Grabbing my suitcase, I carry it in and drop it onto my bed. My back hits the comforter beside it while I wait to see what the leader of the DAU has to say. Hopefully, they can spare some bodyguards to house sit us until the police figure out who tried to break in.
Omen pokes her head back in several minutes later, letting me know we have to go to Donovan’s for the night. A frustrated sigh slips from my lips as I force myself to my feet. It takes half an hour for our ride to get here, which gives me enough time to pack enough outfits for the week and cram my makeup inside.
It’s nearly five in the morning when we crash in Donovan’s spare rooms. I’m so tired I can barely keep my eyes open long enough to pull back the stiff blankets. Last night went from the highlight of my year where I got to meet my idols, to being forced from my home.
What fresh hell will tomorrow bring?
“Good morning, Bea.” Donovan’s beta partner, Natasha, is sitting in their kitchen when I find my way downstairs. The willowy beta is a blessing as she directs me to their coffee pot and a cabinet of mugs.
Her partner walks in before I can sit down, directing us into their sitting room to wait for Omen. I’m antsy as I sit cross-legged in a large armchair. With my job, I can’t go into hiding at a safe house, so what am I going to do?
“I’ve spoken with your parents,” Donovan says, turning his body so he is facing me. “Unfortunately, they are assisting with recovery operations in New Hampshire for the foreseeable future.”
Nodding, I slump against the cushions. I assumed as much, but was hoping one of them would be able to return, even for a few days.
“After careful consideration, and a call to the FCDA, we have found somewhere for you to stay until the intruder is caught. Your boss at the label, Shiloh Acherley, lives in an esteemed apartment building with high end security. He has agreed to take you under his protection.”
I’m speechless. Of all the places they could send me, staying with Shiloh was never a possibility I entertained. He acts like my existence is a nuisance to him half the time, so how am I supposed to trust him to keep me safe? Any alpha off the street could walk up and claim me, and Shiloh would happily shove me into someone else’s arms.
“No way-“
“This isn’t a discussion, Bea. You will stay with Shiloh, and he will be responsible for your wellbeing until the threat against you has been taken care of.” Donovan’s voice is stern, some of his alpha presence leaking into his tone and demanding my compliance.
I cross my arms over my chest and glare at him. This is ridiculously unfair! My life is already being turned upside down by the break in, shoving me into an apartment with a man I don’t trust is just adding salt to an open wound.
Omen chooses this moment to appear. She’s clinging to the walls as she shuffles down the stairs. Dark circles ring her dull green eyes. My chest aches seeing how lifeless she looks. As loathe as I am to say it, I know Donovan is going to send her to Pack Graves. Being in their presence will curb the worst of the rejection.
Even if they don’t deserve to be blessed with a single second of her time.
She collapses in on herself when Donovan confirms my suspicion. Hearing she’s being forced to let her Fate matched mates protect her can’t be easy. I may not trust Shiloh with my heart, but at least his actions haven’t caused me physical harm. Not like the misery Pack Graves’ rejection has caused Omen.
The drive into Starburgh is spent in silence. Each of us lost in thought. The sleek building we pull up to screams wealth and class. Of course Shiloh lives here. Where else would my stylish, uptight boss call home?
Donovan helps me with my suitcase, riding up the elevator to the top floor with me. We step into a hallway with only two doors. The one on the left opens and Shiloh’s familiar face greets us. His eyes scan me from head to toe, a smidgen of relief flashing in his eyes when he finds me unscathed.
