Page 40 of Shades of Scars

Leaning against the side of my car with my phone in my hand, I glance up when my mark steps out of a set of revolving glass doors in a fancy high rise apartment building across the street from where I’m stationed. I make a show of scanning the sidewalk as he walks over to a sleek black Audi the valet just pulled up for him, a pretty brunette hanging off his arm. The both of them are dressed to kill, heading off for a dinner date.

It’s odd that he’s alone, but I chalk it up to the possibility that maybe the rest of his pack are busy. I shake it off as I slip behind the wheel of my own car, waiting patiently for the charming alpha to get his omega settled in her seat, before he takes off. It’s so easy to slip out into traffic and follow them, making sure I keep behind two other cars as I go.

Predictably, he pulls up outside of a rather expensive restaurant located on a marina stuffed full of insanely huge yachts. Another valet opens his door for him and takes his keys before the alpha rounds the hood to help the omega out. I wait until they slip through the doors before I pull up and do the same, handing off my own keys for my car to be parked for me.

Once inside, I’m greeted by an overly bubbly hostess that reminds me of the one at the diner I’d taken Scarlett to backhome. Here I don’t need my omega to stand up for me. I know who I belong to. “Welcome toLa’ Fresca! Table for one?” She’s beaming at me, golden brown eyes roaming up and down my body, but it doesn’t make me uncomfortable. In fact, it’s quite hard for me not to make a scene by curling my lip and hurling an insult at her.

I don’t need to draw unnecessary attention to myself.

“I’ll sit at the bar. Just in for a few drinks while I wait for my wife to finish up at the salon.” It’s a lie, but the beta woman doesn’t need to know that. I’d looked up this place ahead of time when I’d discovered it marked in my mark’s digital calendar after I’d hacked his phone yesterday. I know exactly where the couple will be sitting, and the bar will give me a great vantage point for surveillance.

She looks gravely disappointed at my mention of a wife, but I don’t let my annoyance show. Most beta women I’ve met in the past are always so hung up on snagging alphas as if they can single-handedly take them all away from omegas. I’ve never understood it, always chalking it up to jealousy. Omegas can offer alphas things betas can’t. They just don’t realize that a lot of omegas would most likely choose a different designation, if given the chance.

The grass isn’t always greener on the other side.

Thankfully, she keeps her mouth shut while leading me through the restaurant towards the bar. I spot my charges just inside the doors from the patio, and have a little inward laugh at the flustered expression on the alpha’s face while he sits across from his omega partner.

Usually, their favorite spot is on the patio right on the water, but I’d made sure to call this morning for a party reservation that will never show to take up the whole space, offering a considerable sum of money to achieve my goal. In this game of cat and mouse my pack has opted to play withthe fucks responsible for our omega’s misery, money is nothing but expendable. Wren will have no problem emptying his entire fortune if it means it’ll keep Scarlett safe and permanently end the threat hovering over her.

Finding the prestigious pack Erossi clear on the other side of the country in a simplistic city known as Fairvale Arbor had been easy enough. Thanks to Wren and his wealth of connections, we’d been able to dig up more than we needed to know about the pricks holding our omega back from opening herself fully to us. Those three assholes have absolutely no idea just how motivated we are to rid the world of them in order to set Scarlett free.

I slip onto a free stool closest to the table the couple occupied, perfectly within earshot just as I’d planned, and the beta hostess sets a menu down in front of me with another offered smile. The look I give her has her smile slipping, and she scurries off without another word. I take my phone out of my pocket and spot a message from Caito flashing on the screen that makes me smile.

Caito:It’s honestly not fair that he sent you for surveillance.

My pack brother knows exactly why Wren chose me to carry out this small mission. If he’d sent Caito, the psycho would’ve just killed the entire pack without much thought for how it would work out in the end. And it certainly wouldn’t have ended all that well. Considering the prick currently cussing out the poor waitress that just approached his table is the Chief of Police here in this quaint little port city.

The bartender finally approaches me, and I order a jack and coke to sip on while I listen in on the interaction between Harlan Erossi and his scent matched omega. Yeah, I know a whole lot about the asshole. I know that he’d purchased Scarlett from her father when she turned sixteen and had presented as an omega. I know he has two younger brothers, Jacob and Levi Erossi,that are also a part of his sick pack and have been complicit in defiling my omega against her will. I know that about two years ago, Harlan met the omega sitting across from him only to discover that she’s their scent match.

I know that as soon as that happened, they moved her into their fancy high rise apartment and kicked Scarlett to the curb. But not before he threatened her into never taking another alpha for herself. Not before he fucking bit her and tied her life to his in a bond that can only be broken by death or rejection.

Something told me that we’ll never get him to concede the latter.

Taking a sip of my drink, I tune into their conversation for a moment. “Harlan, please-”

“You will address me asalphain public, Daria.” Harlan snarls low through gritted teeth, uncaring that his tone carries throughout the entire restaurant. I catch the eye of the bartender when his head jerks in their direction, and he gives a subtle shake of his head in response, a look of disgust crossing his features before he turns away to help a couple sitting a few seats down from me.

“Yes, alpha. I’m sorry. Anything for you.” She lowers her head, hands folded tightly in her lap. Right then, Harlan’s phone rings and he rises up out of the chair to walk out onto the patio so he can answer it. I unlock my phone, tapping at it a little until I tap his call to record the audio so I can listen to it later.

Once that’s set, I flick my gaze over to the dark haired omega sitting like a statue. She’s staring out at Harlan, who has his back facing the inside of the restaurant. From my vantage point, I can’t see any bond marks marring her skin. She makes it easier to look for them with the dress she has on that completely bares her shoulders to the world. If he or either of the other two have marked her, it’s not visible to my eye.

It tells me everything I need to know about Harlan Erossi. That he possibly doesn’t value his scent matched omega as much as he does Scarlett. If he does, why hasn’t he marked his omega up in a spot that’s pretty visible to the world, depending on what she wears? If I had to take a wild guess, it has everything to do with his public appearance. In his mind, he’d had no choice but to send Scarlett away once he’d found his scent match. He couldn’t very well start a picture perfect life with a scent matched omega if he’d had an illegally purchased omega on the side that he forced an unwanted bond on, now could he?

Harlan’s phone call lasts all of two minutes before he hangs up and stalks back towards the table. He looks absolutely pissed, and I find out why a second later when my phone pings with an incoming text from Wren that makes the blood pumping through my veins run cold. Fury is rippling off of the alpha in waves, and it makes the little omega waiting for him visibly shrink back in fear.

Wren:He knows. It’s game on. Get home.

* * *

I made it back into the Valley later than I’d originally planned. I quickly shoot off a text to Wren telling him I have something to take care of before turning off my phone so the controlling ass can’t track my location. I don’t need him butting in on this little side project of mine.

I pull up outside of a run down one story house that can’t be more than 900 square feet. A rusted metal gate attached to a rotten, wooden fence swings on crooked hinges in the light breeze as I slip out of my car, stuffing my keys into my pocket.

Before shutting my door, I pull out my handy crowbar from beneath the driver’s seat. I stalk to the front door on silent feet, taking it all in as I go. Two huge windows rest on either sideof the screened in door, but one of them is busted out and completely covered in a plastic sheet that has holes in it already.

I take half a second to think before I raise my fist and pound it against the cracked glass on the screen door. In hindsight, it’s probably a bad idea, but what’s done is done. Thankfully, I don’t bust the sheet of glass out completely with the force of my knock.

Several minutes pass before I hear the telltale sound of a deadbolt sliding free, and then the door behind the cracked glass inches open slightly. Bloodshot brown eyes peer out at me through the crack, taking note of my easy going disposition. I even throw in a smile. Can’t have alarm bells blaring just yet.

---