Page 161 of Stolen Omega

Sitting here with her is torture.

It’s way too early to think about claiming her as mine.

Yet, it’s hard to drive my primal responses to this woman out of my thoughts.

“So, what else did you want to ask me?” She watches me expectantly, waiting for this to be over.

I should want it to be done, too. Because then we’ll be on our way back to where we belong.

The funny thing is, I’m not so sure that going back is a good thing.

“What do you intend to tell your mother about all of this?” I ask, reminding her about her parents in a bid to break whatever spell her kidnapper cast on her.

“If you’re talking about Alma Ortega, I intend to ask her where the real Zelena is, and why she let that asshole Warren Corvina steal her a new daughter. And then I intend to tell her I’m cutting her out of the renewed deal with my record label and management companies, and if she tries anything while I’m still on the old contract I’m going to remind her that my real name is Zoey Rodriguez, not Zelena Ortega.”

She folds her arms in front of her. “Is that your last question?”

She’s already insisted that Zane didn’t do anything to hurt her, and she swears that she knows him and his Omega friend from when they were all kids. She doesn’t want to press charges. She doesn’t see this for what it is. Not even mentioning her mother made her think twice.

“Tell me something about Zoey Rodriguez.”

Her lips twitch. “What?”

“If she’s not Zelena, who is she?”

“That’s actually a good question,” she murmurs, her gaze staying on me. “She’s me. I just didn’t know it. I didn’t change when I was taken. All I did was grow up. I loved to sing when I was a kid, and it’s everything I am now. That’s how Zane found me. He recognized my voice when he heard it.”

She really believes what she’s telling me. Every damn word.

It’s too crazy to be true, but I’m starting to wonder how I could start checking into it.

I’d have to look for Zoey Rodriguez. I’m sure my hacker friend Seth wouldn’t mind the work.

“Tell me that was your final question?” she asks, giving me a bemused smile and pleading eyes.

“Almost,” I confirm.

“Almost, as in this next one’s the last one?”

I nod and she nods along with me, looking like she’s ready to jump to her feet.

“Last question. Are you ready to go home?”

She blinks at me. “Were you listening to anything I told you?”

“I heard all of it.”

“And you don’t believe a word of it.”

“I didn’t say that …”

“You didn’t need to say it.”

Of course. She’s an Omega. She can tell how I’m feeling.

“It’s okay. I probably wouldn’t believe it either, if I were you.”

I’m not used to being at a loss for words, but I can’t think of any when she gives me a real smile that reaches her eyes. It feels like she knows me so damn well, and yet this is the only real conversation we’ve ever had.

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