Page 126 of Stolen Omega

When I glance at him, he shakes his head.

“She did that later. She doesn’t know why she’s here, but she’s remembering. It’s going to be worth it, Dale. Wouldn’t you want the chance to remember if this had happened to you?”

His heart is in the right place. It always has been.

“I would. You know I would, but this is so fucked, Zane.”

It hurts to see her anger in that room. Did she do that because she remembered things she doesn’t want to remember? Or because she’s been kidnapped and she’s feeling powerless?

How are we supposed to know the difference?

“How long is this process supposed to take?”

“It varies from person to person.”

“You don’t know.”

He might not be delusional about Zelena, but he didn’t think about the bigger picture when he made this plan. Zelena isn’t a regular person. The cops aren’t going to forget about the case once the first forty-eight hours are up. Her file isn’t just going to sink to the bottom of a cold case pile.

He shrugs. “However long it takes will be worth it.”

“I don’t think the cops will see it that way,” I mutter.

“We can’t just let her go.”

“Well, we can’t wait around forever, either.”

There’s no way in hell we’re going to agree on this.

He wants to keep her here for however long it takes for her to regain her memories, and I want to make sure we don’t get arrested for abducting a celebrity.

How did I end up in this situation? Seriously?

Oh, right, yeah.

I can never say no to this guy.

Well, this time, my lack of a backbone might land me in prison.

Unless I can convince Zane to let me talk to our girl.

I know I can be convincing. I’m an Omega. It’s in my blood.

“How will you even know when she remembers, anyway?” I ask. “If she’s alone all the time, and you’re not talking to her?”

“I have a plan. It’s working. We just need to let it work.”

“She’s got every cop in the country out looking for her right now, Zane. What happens when one of those cops happens to find the van we stole that you left in your private airfield?”

“That’s not going to happen,” he tells me, brushing the concern off as if it’s nothing.

“Why not? Did you dismantle the van or set the farm on fire before we left?”

He snorts. “No. I didn’t set a fire or break apart the van. I have a ten-foot-high barrier that gives out electric shocks when it’s touched. No one’s getting over that barrier.”

“You realize there are twenty-foot-tall trees that someone could climb to get over that barrier, right?”

“No cop is going to climb a tree to see what’s over the barrier.”

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