Page 28 of Pack Coffey

I roll my eyes at his dramatics. "You know it takes forever to get through checks to get in here."

He laughs, reminding me of the old days of the person he used to be. That's all gone the moment that I sit down across from where he's restrained to the table with long chains. He takes a deep inhale, and his eyes go black like a shark. "Who's the alpha that's scent marked you, Darci?"

"That's not your concern, Dylan," I tell him. Not thinking about the fact that he would pick up on that. "How are youholding up?"

He leans back in his chair, chains rattling as he moves. "As good as can be expected in here. I haven't heard from the parentals lately, though. They stopped coming to visit me. Don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. Mom would always try to put me through one of her psych evals, and Dad would sit there like the obedient little lap dog he always is listening to her nonsense babble. Do you still talk to our parents, Darci?"

I choose my words carefully as I always have to with my brother. "Sometimes. Not as much as I should."

He nods as I speak. "Probably a good thing. She'll try to have you locked up in here with me if you're not careful."

"Dylan," I start, wondering if I should say what I'm thinking. It's been known to be a trigger for him. "You took the life of four girls."

He's shown no remorse for it. In all the years after he was convicted and found guilty of first-degree murder of all of them. Evidence plain as day. Even a confession from his own lips. He's never once said he was sorry. Even now, the words seem to excite more than sadden him.

"You're right, sis," he mumbles, dropping his eyes to where his thumbs are working around each other in circles. "Maybe she had her reasons for helping lock her only son away from the world. You don't know what it's like in here. People are crazy, and some of them have a sick obsession with playing with their own shit. If I'd had my knife earlier this week, I would've slit the throat of one bitch who had the audacity to smear her filth on me."

That's where his switch flips. I can see it in the way that his posture and expression morphs. His back goes ramrod straight, and his pupils dilate until they appear completely black. "I miss it, Darci. They make it impossible to fulfill your destiny here. No one will listen when I tell them that it was what I wasput on this earth to do. Cleanse it of the filth."

Then, just like that, it flips back off and he slumps in his chair. "I'm tired, sis. I think you should go. I don't want to visit anymore today."

I want to tell him how much time it took me to get here to him today, but it won't matter. Dylan has always been selfish. It's only gotten worse over the years when he thinks that the world owes him something.

"I love you," I tell him. I don't think a sister ever truly stops loving her brother. Even when he's done something as horrible as mine has.

He doesn't say it back, though, his back straightens again as he brings his gaze up to meet mine. "Don't go fooling around with alphas, Darci. The world could use a few less in it."

Threat noted, but not taken seriously. What the hell does he expect to do from behind a locked, padded cell. More than anything today, his threats against Saint have touched a nerve. Something I never let him do. Not bothering with a goodbye, I leave the room. Maybe I won't come visit next month, or the one after that. Treat him like Mom and Dad are doing and pretending that he doesn't exist. Maybe then he'll come to appreciate the things I do for him. Probably not, but I certainly don't have to subject myself to this abuse every month.

I collect my things from the basket and walk outside. Taking three deep breaths, I release them into the universe, letting go of this visit. Like I do every time. Maybe if I stop trying to forget them and remember his ungratefulness, I'll come to my senses and make good on the thought of stopping my visits.

Taking out my phone, I make the second worst part of my day happen. He answers with his normal quiet tone on the second ring.

"Hey, Dad. I just got done visiting Dylan. Can you come get me?"

Hours, and I do mean, hours later, I'm finally back at my house. The literal only good thing that came from today was that I brought my car home with me. Now, I don't have to make the decision to walk at night or call someone for a ride.

After my dad picked me up from the hospital, we drove to my childhood home, the whole while he was saying that we shouldn't mention to my mom what I was doing. He told me that she thinks that being cut off from his family is the only thing that will help him by having to accept his actions and reach out for help. I'd rolled my eyes, and of course, got into an argument with her as soon as Dylan's name got mentioned. Thankfully, it was after my psychiatric evaluation that she forces on me once a month. Having to sit for an hour with her while she picks my brain to see if I'm going to turn out to be a psychotic killer like my brother is bad enough. Throw in her being pissed and it's an absolute nightmare.

As if all of that hadn't been enough, my very alpha mom had picked up Saint's scent first thing and given me the fifth degree on who he was and how I shouldn't accidentally throw my life and hard work away for an alpha. Of course, my classes didn't count into that because wanting to be a radio disc jockey is absolutely despicable to a woman with a doctorate in psychology. How dare I not follow in her footsteps? And how dare I throw away my trash dreams on an even bigger trash dream like falling in love or having a pack. It's always been just her and Dad, who's a beta. She says that she understands the whole omega thing, because it's all just science after all. Yet, she knows nothing outside of a textbook about actually being an omega.

Even still, hours later at my own home, I'm still raging at my family. Maybe Dylan won't be the only one that I skip visiting next month. Let her take her own psych evaluation and determine if she's the actual problem or not. I growl infrustration as I pull at the top of my hair. If anyone were to see me right now, they'd probably think that I am crazy.

I'm in an angry state that's leaving me feeling restless, all the while not wanting to do anything at all. I hear sirens in the distance, and my mind immediately goes to Banks and Keaton.Are they on that truck? Are they okay?

Taking out my phone, I shoot a text to both of them asking if they're on duty tonight. Lucky for me, they're not.

Keaton's name shows up as he calls. "Hey, pretty girl. We were just about to make a run to the store to get stuff to make for dinner if you want to come with us. That includes dinner, too, in case you're wondering."

Just like that. Three sentences from him and I'm already feeling better. "Sure, but I'll meet you at your house."

"Don't be walking," he warns. "We can swing by and pick you up."

I snort softly. "I picked up my car today, so I won't be walking."

"Okay, good," he says. "See you soon, then."

"Okay, bye," I tell him.

---