12. REID

Chapter twelve

REID

A sharp knock on the door jolts me awake. I sit up, disoriented, tangled in the thin motel sheets. My heart pounds as I glance at the clock on the nightstand. Almost noon. Fuck. I didn’t mean to sleep this long. Jackson and his fifteen minutes is going to fucking kill me. Well, that and the fact that I thought it was a wonderful idea to mouth off to him.

The knock comes again, louder this time, rattling the thin wood like whoever’s on the other side thinks I owe them money. My stomach does this awful twist like it already knows what’s coming. Something’s off. Way off.

I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and the sharp jolt of pain that shoots through my ribs makes me hiss. Great. Just what I need—more reasons to be miserable. I press a hand against my side, muttering, “Yeah, because today hasn’t sucked enough already.”

Each step toward the door feels heavier, slower, like my body’s trying to stall me. My brain’s screaming, Don’t open it, but my feet and hands don’t get the memo. I unlock the door, pull it open—and my stomach plummets.

Of course. Of-fucking-course.

Two officers stand there, big and broad-shouldered, their matching smug expressions already setting my blood to boil. These aren’t just any cops. No, these assholes are Jackson’s friends—his Alpha friends. I should’ve known.

“Reid,” one of them drawls, looking me up and down with disgust before he spits inches from my feet. “You’re a hard man to track down.”

I know for a fact that isn’t true, that Jackson and Lyle always know exactly where I am. The fear from acting out has somehow left me and I’m beginning to wonder if it has something to do with that beautiful Omega from this morning. I’ve heard stories from mates being emboldened once they meet their biological match but I didn’t think it would be this… drastic.

“Wow,” I say, doing my best to keep my voice steady. “You guys come all this way just for me? I’m touched.”

The second officer smirks, crossing his arms. “Didn’t realize we’d actually show up, huh? Come on, Reid. You know how this works.”

Oh, I know. I know exactly how this works. But some stupid, desperate part of me thought maybe, just maybe, I’d have a little more time. A moment to catch my breath before the Wilhelms yanked the leash again.

“How’d you find me?” I ask, though the answer’s already obvious.

“Jackson told us,” the first officer says, leaning against the doorframe like he’s settling in for a chat. “You didn’t think he wouldn’t know where you went, did you? You’re his Beta. His responsibility.”

I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from snapping back. Responsibility. Right. That’s just a fancy way of saying property. They don’t have to say it out loud—it’s written all over their faces.

The second officer straightens, his arms still crossed, looking like he’s about to deliver a lecture. “Look,” he says, irritated that he’s here at all, “we don’t exactly appreciate being called out for menial shit like this. So, why don’t you grab your stuff and make this easy for everyone?”

I grit my teeth, my fists curling at my sides. “I haven’t done anything wrong,” I mutter under my breath, the words slipping out before I can stop them.

“What was that?” the first officer snaps. He steps forward, invading my space like he’s daring me to fight back. His scent rolls over me, all Alpha dominance and irritation and it makes my stomach churn. “You’ve got something to say, Beta?”

My ribs throb with every shallow breath, the need to stand up for myself sitting at the edge of my tongue. Standing up to an Alpha could get me killed. Where Jackson has a responsibility to keep me alive, these two don’t and could very well chalk it up to some kind of bullshit encounter. I open my mouth to answer, but the words get stuck. My brain’s screaming, Don’t make it worse. “Nothing,” I mumble finally. “Let me just grab my things.”

“Damn right you will,” he sneers, but he doesn’t move. Instead, he grabs the front of my shirt, yanking me forward, and slams me against the doorframe. The breath whooshes out of me, pain exploding through my side, and it takes everything I have not to cry out. “If I didn’t have to deliver you back in one piece,” he growls, his face inches from mine, “I’d make you pay for that little comment. Watch your mouth, Reid.”

I grit my teeth so hard my jaw aches, my vision blurring from the pain. “Yes, sir,” I bite out, the words dripping with as much sarcasm as I can manage without getting myself killed.

The officer shoves me as I stumble back into the room, catching myself on the doorframe. I grab my bag from the floor, shoving clothes inside with shaky hands. Each movement sends sharp spikes of pain through my side, but I keep moving, because what’s the alternative? Get slammed into something again? Yeah, no thanks.

Behind me, one of the officers leans against the doorframe, clicking his tongue. “Move it,” he barks, his tone laced with the kind of authority that makes me want to roll my eyes. Without the Wilhelm’s backing, these officers would just be two Officer Joes on the street.

“I’m going,” I snap, zipping the bag with more force than necessary. It’s a dumb move. My side reminds me why being snarky while injured is a bad idea and the flash of pain makes my vision blur. Still, worth it. This is why that little Omega is dangerous because I dare to hope. I dare to believe that I’m not just a pack Beta, not just made to serve Hailey and succumb to her Alphas’ abuse.

The officer narrows his eyes. “What was that?”

Oh, here we go. “I said I’m going,” I mutter, biting back every colorful insult that bubbles up. The last thing I need is another reason for them to remind me of my place.

“That’s what I thought,” he sneers, the smirk on his face making me want to punch something. Not him. Definitely not him. I like my face the way it is—when it’s not beaten to hell.

I sling the bag over my shoulder with a wince, swaying slightly as the room tilts. My hand grips the edge of the dresser to steady myself. Just a few more minutes, I tell myself. I can survive this. It’s not like I haven’t survived worse.

As I step past them, the first officer leans in, his breath brushing the side of my face. “You’re lucky Jackson’s pulling the strings for you,” he mutters, his voice dripping with condescension. “Otherwise, you’d be halfway down to the station, this disobedience written up in your folder.”

The officers herd me toward their car and I do well to keep my head tucked and my mouth shut. The drive is silent except for the hum of the engine. They don’t say a word, but their eyes bore into me the entire time like they’re daring me to step out of line. I stare out the window, watching the world blur past, my mind drifting to thoughts I shouldn’t be having. Thoughts of an Omega with warm brown eyes and a scent like summer.

The car pulls up to the Wilhelm estate, my heart dropping into my stomach. The house looms ahead, all cold stone and sharp angles, a monument to their power and wealth. I hate it. I hate the way it looks, the way it smells, the way it feels like a cage every time I step inside. To someone, it’s probably gorgeous but the horrors inside have made it impossible to see it as anything other than a prison.

“Out,” one of the officers grunts as I drag myself out of the car. I’m seconds away from collapsing but I don’t have time for that. The officers stay until I’m inside, waiting until I’ve stepped over the threshold, the door closing behind me with a finality that makes my chest tighten.

The smell hits me first—Hailey’s heat, thick and cloying, wrapping around me like a physical weight. It’s sickly sweet, mixed with the musk of Jackson and Lyle and it makes my stomach turn. I grit my teeth, breathing shallowly through my mouth, but it doesn’t help. The scent clings to everything.

Once upon a time, I used to enjoy her scent. It got me hard as all Omegas in heat do, but after smelling the Omega at the diner, Hailey’s scent is repulsive. She’s not my Omega; she never was but that moment finalized it for me.

Muffled voices filter from upstairs, Jackson and Lyle’s grunts and Hailey’s giggles mixed with breathy moans. A laugh echoes, followed by something I don’t want to interpret. My jaw tightens and I force myself to keep moving.

The kitchen is my escape, as much as any place in this house can be. I drop my bag by the door, shrugging off my coat and wincing as pain lances through my side. A quick check in the mirror tells me that the bruises are worse today, the deep purple marks spreading across my cheek like ugly reminders of where I stand. Or don’t.

Jackson’s credit card sits on the counter, a black plastic reminder of the leash they’ve got me on. I quickly pull up the delivery apps to order groceries, ingredients for Hailey’s preferred meals, and a fresh stock of descenter and scent blockers. They’ll arrive soon. At least I’m good for something, right?

I start wiping down counters that don’t need cleaning, scrubbing at nonexistent messes just to keep my hands busy. The hum of the refrigerator is the only sound until another laugh drifts down from upstairs. I clench my jaw, scrubbing harder, like it’ll erase the noise.

But it’s not the noise that gets to me. It’s the reminder of what I am here—an accessory to their happiness.

The Omega’s face flashes in my mind again—his eyes, his smile, his scent—it’s like a balm, soothing even as it hurts. I shouldn’t be thinking about him, but I can’t help it. Not here, surrounded by everything that makes me feel so small.

Another wave of pain rolls through me, sharper this time, and I stagger, bracing myself against the counter. Black spots dance at the edges of my vision, and for a second, I think I might actually pass out. I force myself to stumble to the breakfast nook, sinking down onto the bench and pulling my knees to my chest.

“Just a few minutes,” I whisper to myself, my voice trembling. “Just... a few.”

But deep down, I know it’s never just a few. This is my life. And I’m so fucking tired of it.