Page 67 of Unhinged Omega

Lonelier.

I grunt in frustration, hauling myself to my feet again. Can't sit still. Need to move, to do something. Anything to quiet the voice in the back of my head telling me I fucked up. That I should have stopped him, should have dragged his scrawny ass back here and locked him in the basement until this latest obsession passed. And if it never did, so fucking be it. He'd just have to be my prisoner, then.

He'd probably love being a pet.

But I didn't do that.

I didn't save him.

I let him go.

Watched him walk away, knowing full well he was marching to his death.

Some "daddy" I turned out to be.

No wonder the kid's so fucked up.

I find myself pacing the small living room, unable to settle. The silence that used to be so comforting now feels oppressive. Suffocating, even. Like the damn walls are closing in around me.

"Fuck!" I snarl, slamming my fist into the closest wall and leaving a crater behind. The kind of bullshit Raven would hang a frame over to mark the occasion where I lost my goddamn temper over him. And he isn't evenhere.

And that's the fucking problem, isn't it?

Raven.

Isn't.

Here.

I stomp up my stairs, down a few halls, and throw the door open that leads out into the market. The musty but marginally cooler air feels good against my face. Grounds me. Makes me feel like I'm not about to mentally snap. It's bad enough I puncheda wall. I may be a grumpy son of a bitch, but it's rare for me to actually lose my head like that.

Then I catch a glimpse of a golden flash in the crowd.

My heart fucking stops.

Before I even realize what I'm doing, I'm shoving my way through the press of bodies, my voice ripping from my throat.

"Raven!"

The name echoes off the grimy walls of the market, drawing curious stares. I don't give a shit. My eye is locked on that blond head bobbing through the sea of people. He's moving away from me, and panic claws at my chest.

No.

Not again.

I'm not letting him walk away this time.

Peace and quiet be damned.

I lunge forward, my hand closing around a slim shoulder. With a snarl, I spin the figure around, ready to tear into that smug bastard for daring to show his face here after?—

It's not Raven.

The man staring up at me with wide, terrified eyes is a stranger. Just some run-of-the-mill blond guy, his face pale with shock as he takes in my towering frame and the rage I know is etched into every line of my face.

"I-I'm sorry," he stammers. "I think you have the wrong guy."

For a long moment, I can't move. Can't speak. I just stare at this poor fucker who had the misfortune of having hair the same shade as the asshole currently driving me to madness.

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