Track 31 Criminal

This is surreal.

Everything about tonight feels fake. Like some sort of hellish dreamscape, that's morphing into something… good? Maybe?

The Cordova Pack came for me. Gage came for me. How they knew where to find me, I don't know. Maybe that ‘interview' with the reporter went live, and they figured out where I was from that. I have no idea how long I spent crying at the base of that tree, wishing like hell I had someone, anyone, to hold me. My parents, Gage, Liam, Gray, Rafe, Sadie, Sylvie. Hell, I would have even taken Swift or Logan.

But I was alone. I am still alone. Sadie and Sylvie have their own packs and their own lives. The Cordova pack doesn't want me. I still don't know why they even came. Maybe some amount of affection lingers in them, enough to want to be sure I didn't die, but not enough to overlook my perceived crimes.

The only person I know have is Gage, and I'm still hurt and mad at what he said, at what he thinks of me. Like after years apart, he just doesn't know me at all anymore.

I only let Liam hold me and Gage hug me because I needed the comfort in that moment. I'd been praying for it. They offered it to me. I wasn't strong enough to turn them down.

But I have to be now.

I can't let them do what they did to me again. I can't trust them and then have them decide tomorrow, next week, next year, they don't actually want me all that much. Or if I make another mistake and they toss me aside so easily.

I can't go through that again.

The four men guide me back to the area around Apex where the paramedics and police are. I flinch away from the lights, my eyes aching from my bout of crying and my head throbbing from everything else. All I want to do is soak in a hot tub for an hour to ease my muscles and then sleep for the next three days.

Something tells me that's not going to happen.

"Miss Forbes?" A man wearing a suit and a trench coat approaches us, badge in hand. Rafe slips in front of me, keeping the other alpha from getting too close. "I'm Detective Aiden Banks. We've been looking for you. We have a few questions."

A low growl rumbles out of Rafe as the detective tries to move around him to get to me. "You can ask her your questions from over there," he says.

I frown and use my hand on his side to push him out of the way, moving forward and ignoring all the hands that try to keep me at their center. "Of course, Detective. Whatever you need." My smile is back in place, the one meant to make everyone else comfortable.

"No, sweet thing." Gray steps up on my other side. "You need rest." He pins the police officer with a look. "She can come in tomorrow to give her statement."

My smile doesn't falter as I look up at him. "No, I can give my statement now."

Detective Banks slides his gaze between us. "If your pack thinks it's-"

"They aren't my pack," I say as matter-of-factly as I can while the words choke me, make a sharp spike of pain stab my chest. My smile never wavers. "They have no say over what I do."

"Biscuit," Gage growls.

"Sweetheart, please," Liam urges. "Let us take care of you."

I glance over my shoulder at him, meeting his green eyes with mine. I could say something petty like, ‘oh, you mean how you took care of me before?' or ‘why would I do that when you'll just throw me away tomorrow?' but I don't have the energy to deal with that right now, so all I say is a firm, "No." His face crumples and the scent of burnt cheesecake fills the air, but I don't let it stop me from turning back to the detective. "Do you want to do it here? Or back at the station?"

He flicks his gaze from me to the alphas bristling around me, the omega giving off wounded vibes like I somehow injured him with my refusal.

Maybe I did, but I can't bring myself to care right now.

"We can head to the station. It will be more comfortable there than standing around here."

I nod and fold my arms over my chest. "You'll give me a ride?"

"Sorrel," Rafe tries. "We can take you."

"I don't want you to."

Detective Banks' brow furrows, but he does his job and ushers me toward a police cruiser, opening the back door.

"You aren't putting her in the back like a fucking criminal," Gray growls at him. My eyes flick to the camera crews for various news stations. I really don't want to be seen being put into the back of a cop car. It'll only feed into what people are saying more. That I'm the villain, the criminal, the hateful whore. People will see this and say I deserve it, that I should be locked up for lying to the Cordova pack, lying to America's sweetheart omega.

Wordlessly, I drop into the backseat and pull the door closed myself. The four men stare at me through the window, various expressions of hurt and pain and anger on their faces. I pointedly turn my face away from them, stare out the front window as Detective Banks rounds the car and slides in the driver's seat.

His gaze flicks to me in the rearview mirror, considering. "We really can wait until tomorrow. If you have somewhere else, you'd like me to take you?"

I shake my head. "No, I'd rather get it over with. And I know the more time that passes between the event and the interview, the more memories get skewed."

His brows jump in surprise before he nods. "That's true." The engine starts, and I can still feel the eyes of the men I thought loved me on the side of my face. They stay there until we pull away.

I doze off on the ride to the police station, but as soon as the car turns off, I jerk awake, my heart thundering in my chest and panic coursing through me. I relax only marginally when I see we're in the parking lot of the GPD. After all, I am in the back of a police car like a criminal.

Detective Banks rounds the car and opens the door for me, reaching in to offer me a handout. I ignore it and push to my feet on my own, biting back a groan of pain as everything in my body protests.

Fuck. I hurt. Even with the painkillers the paramedic gave me.

I imagine I'll feel even worse tomorrow.

Detective Banks looks down at my hands, at my white shirt smeared with dirt and dried blood. "Is any of that yours?" he asks as he ushers me into the building.

I shrug tiredly. "Some of it. Not all."

His lips tighten. "We'll find you a place to clean up a bit, yeah?"

I nod. "Yeah. Thank you. I appreciate it."

He runs another assessing eye over me. "And maybe some other clothes?" I nod my agreement and let him guide me farther into the building, vaguely aware of the doors opening behind us, Liam calling my name. But I don't turn around.

Detective Banks guides me to a ladies' restroom and leaves me while I go inside. The harsh overhead light makes me wince, but I don't waste time heading to the sink and turning on the water. My hands tremble as I shove them under the cool water, and watch as some of the blood and grit wash down the drain.

Blood from the man I stabbed. Did I kill someone today? Did I take a life?

The thought has me lunging away from the sink and into a stall, my bruised knees screaming in pain as they hit the tile and I bend over the toilet, heaving violently, my stomach expelling the little there is in it. Not a lot… It was morning when I left my house heading to the Shack. It's night now, so I haven't eaten for over twenty-four hours.

There's a knock on the door before it's pushed open without my invitation. Detective Banks looks at the still running facet and then back to me where I'm huddled on the floor, his jaw tight, eyes dark with concern. He approaches me slowly, a large sweatshirt in his hands. "Come on, Miss Forbes, let's get you up."

I spit into the bowl one more time before pushing shakily to my feet. His big hands steady me until I can stand without wobbling. Then he holds out the sweatshirt. "May I?"

At my jerky nod, he pulls the fabric over my head. It's big and warm and better than the stained shirt I'm wearing, but it smells all wrong. Like peppermint and snow. Not like my pack- No Sorrel, not your pack.

I give him a shaky smile. "Thank you."

He waves the words away. "It's the least I can do."

Then he guides me down the hall and into a room I honestly never thought I'd see the inside of. An interrogation room.

I feel my face pale further and I'm pretty sure the only reason I don't crumple to the ground is because of the detective's hand on me. "It's okay, Miss Forbes," he says gently. "It's just for privacy. You aren't a suspect here."

Someone scoffs and we both turn to find a pretty, if severe, looking woman heading toward us. Her hair is pulled back into a tight no-nonsense bun. She's wearing a dark charcoal gray suit and a crisp white shirt.

Her eyes sweep over me from head to toe, her nude pink lip pulling back into a slight snarl. She's an alpha. I can tell that from her height and her scent. I have no clue why she's looking at me like I'm shit on her shoe.

Maybe she just looks at everyone like that.

"Kirkland," Banks says, his hand coming to the base of my spine and gently guiding me to the single chair on the far side of the table.

"Let's get this over with," the woman says, dropping into a seat facing me almost belligerently.

I flick a worried glance at Detective Banks. If Kirkland is a detective in charge of my case, I can't see this going very well for me.

"Why don't you tell us what happened, Miss Forbes?" He meets my gaze steadily, injecting me with a calm that gives me the strength to take a deep breath and recount the events of the last day and a half.

It takes a while, longer than I care to admit, seeing as I have to stop frequently to get my emotions under control. I know I need to get this out though, need to tell them what happened. The sooner I do, the more accurate it'll be. I don't want to let time muddy the events.

When I'm finished, they both stare at me for a moment, then Kirkland nods once. "Okay, let's go over it again."

I frown, my head swimming with exhaustion. But I know what they're doing looking for inconsistencies in my story, looking for reasons it might not be true. But this is something they do with suspects, isn't it? Not victims?

Even with that thought, I tell them again, leaving nothing out, just as I did the first time.

However, when I'm finished with my second retelling, Kirkland leans back in her chair, smirking. "Again."

She can't be serious. I glance at Banks to find him watching his partner with narrowed eyes.

"Do I need a lawyer?" I ask, uncertainly. "Am I a suspect? You said I wasn't," I add to Detective Banks.

"Should you be?" the woman asks, her lip curling into a sneer.

I shake my head slowly. "No, I'm the fucking victim here. I was attacked, drugged, and kidnapped." Maybe it's not a good idea to be so harsh with my wording, but I'm exhausted and in pain, and emotionally struggling and so I can't stop myself from saying, "but you seem to be treating me like a suspect."

Detective Banks leans forward, eyes kind though intense. "That's not what's happening here. We're just trying to understand what happened."

I look at him. "And I told you what happened. You can verify it with Sadie and Sylvie. We'll all tell you the same things."

"Yes, and why might that be?" the woman sneers. "Perhaps because you came up with a cover story. Hmm?"

I blink at her. "You don't actually think that, do you?" My head tilts, glimpsing a gold charm bracelet on her wrist. There's a thin rectangular charm with "Liam Lover" engraved on it. I recognize it because I have one just like it in my cabin. Oh, now I see. "You're a fan of Liam Cordova's?"

Her lips tighten. "That's irrelevant."

"It's relevant if you're letting rumors of my personal life and relationship with Liam Cordova affect this case." I am so freaking tired. So, so tired.

Detective Banks shifts again, turning to pierce his partner with a look. "That's not what's happening here, right, Kirkland?"

"Right," she grits out. "I'm a professional."

That she has to state that tells me all I need to know. Especially when she leans closer to me. "Now tell me the story again."

Her use of the word ‘story' is intentional. It implies fiction. "I've told you what happened twice now." I glance up at the camera in the corner. "You have both of them recorded. If you need to refresh your memory, then why not watch it?"

Her mouth pulls into a tight frown, and Detective Banks sighs. "Just one more time, please, Miss Forbes."

The door opens, and a stunning woman with red hair, wearing a turquoise pant suit with a black silk shirt underneath it, steps in under the watchful eyes of a uniformed police officer. She takes in the scene and then says firmly, "my client will not be saying anymore until I've had a chance to speak with her. Now please leave the room."

Kirkland curses under her breath and then stands angrily from her chair, while Banks is slower to push up. "Of course, happy to oblige, Aurie."

He really seems happy about it, too.

Nice guy that Banks.

His partner, on the other hand, looks like she's sucked on a lemon.

Aurie waits until the door closes behind both of the detectives and then turns a smile on me. "Sorry it took so long," she says, holding out her hand. "I'm Aurora Whitten. You can call me Aurie. Sylvie asked me to come."

I nod and shake her hand. "Thank you for coming."

She settles into the chair opposite me and then links her fingers together on the table. "I would have come sooner, but The Werth pack wanted me to get Sylvie out first."

"Makes sense. She's their omega."

Aurie hums. "Omega or beta, she doesn't deserve better treatment than you."

I don't deny that, but I'm also grateful that Sylvie is away from the station and likely at home being spoiled by her pack. She deserves it. "Do you know if Sadie is also done?"

Aurie shakes her head. "She was out before I was even called. The Falcone pack may be going legit, but they still aren't buddy buddy with the police."

I hum. So I'm the only one here. Which means I'm all alone again, except for Aurie, of course. But it's not like she's going to drive me an hour away to Lake Kilrose and my tiny cabin. I'm not even sure I want to go there, if I'm honest.

I don't want to be in that kind of isolation, but I don't really want to be with people.

I can still feel the panic at the realization that I was being followed, pedaling my bike faster to reach civilization, someone who could help me. The dark shadowy figure that leapt out from behind a tree and clothes-lined me.

Aurie reaches over and brushes her fingers over my hand. "I already got the story from Sylvie, and it's late, so I won't make you go over it with me now. But we'll need to meet sometime this week, so I can make sure we have the story straight."

I frown at her. "You make it sound like we made it up."

Aurie squeezes my hand. "We know that's not true, but there have been accusations in the media that you orchestrated all of this."

A surprised bark of laughter falls from my lips. "Of course there have. It's not enough that they see me as a manipulative whore, but now I'm a freaking terrorist."

She taps a finger against the table. "Apex is pushing that agenda. I suspect that evidence will magically appear that will link you with a known terrorist organization, and that will say you manufactured the evidence against them."

"How would I have done that?" I mumble, not really believing that this is my freaking life. "I flip burgers for a living, Aurie. Literally. I don't… I have no clue how I would even go about doing any of that."

She gives me a soft smile. "I know, Sorrel. And that's what we'll go with. It helps that the Werth, Falcone and Cordova packs are throwing their support behind you. And that Grayson Cordova brought the evidence that started all of this forward when it's well known you were at odds with his pack. Nothing he provided had any links to you at all, besides your friendship with Sadie and Sylvie. So that's a tremendous bonus."

I frown. "So it's going to be okay?"

She sighs and leans back. "I mean, I don't think it's going to be pleasant. I don't have to tell you that the public is… upset with you. Apex is a beast to go against. People have been trying to bring them down for years and for years, they've been untouchable. And while I don't think anything is going to come of this legally-"

"My innocence in this matter might not sway public opinion of my character," I nod, then shrug. "Well, what's a few more death threats on top of the hundreds I was already getting?"

Aurie blinks at me. "I'm sorry. Did you say death threats?"

I nod, fighting a yawn. "Yeah, and that was just from breaking Liam's heart, so…"

She leans forward. "Do they know about those?"

I frown and run a hand over my face. I'm so fucking tired. "Who? Hey, do you think I can leave? I need to sleep."

"The Cordova pack," she says, tapping on the table again. "Do they know you've received death threats?"

My jaw cracks as my mouth parts on another yawn. "I don't see how they would. I haven't spoken to them in over a week." Well, unless you count being huddled together under that tree. Which I really don't.

"You should tell them," she urges, but I'm already shaking my head.

"No. They wouldn't care."

Her perfectly manicured eyebrows draw together, and then she sighs. "I don't think that's true, but it's up to you how much you want to share with them." Damn right. "Anyway, I'll go check to see if you can leave."

I give her a grateful smile. "Thank you, I really appreciate it."

She waves off my thanks and stands from the table before moving to the door and knocking on it. A moment later, it opens and then closes again. I know without checking that it locks automatically.

I watch the clock on the wall as it ticks over to four am. My body slumps over, my forehead coming to rest on my hands folded on the table. Jesus, I'm tired. All I want to do is sleep for a million years. Forever and maybe never wake up.

But I know I won't be able to. I have to figure out where I can go when they let me out.

I don't have a car to drive myself home. Honestly, that would be the farthest thing from safe with how tired I am. I suppose I could call Sadie or Sylvie, but I suspect they are both deep in the arms of their packs, receiving the comfort of their bodies. I don't want to take that from them.

I don't have a wallet or an ID to book a hotel room.

Tears prick my eyes as the realization hits.

I have no one and nowhere to go.