Page 1 of My Monster's Keeper
Chapter 1
Becky
My first day as one of Effusion City’s finest is not going to plan. In fact, it’s going very, very wrong. A bead of sweat runs down the side of my temple as I stare down the barrel of the gun and my imminent death.
I don’t want to die like this.
My brand new partner has his weapon aimed at my forehead from less than a foot away. He’s fucking smiling at me. This piece of shit, corrupt, dickless excuse of a man is smirking like this is a game. The only reason I can tell is because, under the thick caterpillar bush of a mustache he has, I catch a glint of his tobacco-stained teeth.
He just told me how I’m going to die to a very elaborate and gory soliloquy that was so enthusiastic I think he must have spent hours practicing in front of a mirror, patting himself on the back in sheer rank joy of his absolute manliness.
“Packwell, you don’t want to do this,” I breathe out in a hushed whisper of sound.
I’m trying to recall negotiations class, but these are freaking cops. They have the same training. My hands are shaking, but the world is crystal clear. Adrenaline, I remember distantly, adrenaline is giving my body this boost to the system, trying to help me stay alive. I’m a live wire, ready for movement, paused in real time as I weigh my options. One distraction, that’s all I need, and I’m gone.
The night is cold, the wind burns my cheeks. I’m hyper aware of the dark shadows and the flicker of a streetlight in the distance. There is no moon and no stars, just a car park and these assholes.
Six more cops stalk out of the shadows, which just adds insult to injury. I dare to glance at them, then return my panicked stare back to Packwell. Their easy laughs are at complete odds with the situation.
They’ve done this before, I realise with horror. Rocklea holds money out that Lou Trance takes with a snort and a sick joke about dead homeless women.
Oh, that’s supposed to be me. Right, funny. Har-fucking-har.
“She’ll beg,” Rocklea mocks and casts a knowing smirk in my direction. “Little Becky Dawson will beg for her useless life. I got a hundred on it. Fucking women cops who think they’ve got big dicks, they’re pathetic, but they beg at the end, always,” he sneers directly at me.
I glance at him but don’t move a muscle, and I don’t fucking beg.
“One fifty says she doesn’t,” Tanner calls out. “She might look like a schoolgirl, but she’s got grit to get through training. She won’t beg. The omega whore was raised by the street, after all. She’s used to this.”
What the fuck is an omega?
Rage slithers in my veins, twining around the fear. Fucking animals. I should have known better than to think that being a cop in Effusion city would change anything. For a moment, I think of my foster brother, Grant. I hope he survives my death. He’ll be okay, I think. But, damn, I’ll miss him something awful. There’s a whole lot of regret, but then I push it aside.
No! I’m not dying today. No fucking way.
But I’m staring down that barrel. His hand isn’t even shaking. The bitter night air should evaporate his sweat, but instead, his nerves give him a sheen on his forehead that he wipes off with his uniform sleeve. Or maybe it’s the drugs he snorted half an hour ago.
“Packwell, what the fuck are you doing?” I hiss again.
He ignores me, instead laughing at something Trance says. Fiedlstein and Lee lean against the walls of the building and watch.
I don’t know these guys, I think in a hysterical rush. Oh, god, I just started today, but they seemed like nice cops. I can’t believe this is happening.
No one is bothered that a senior cop is holding a rookie at gunpoint. Lee pulls out a bag of powder, and he and Fiedlstein lean over a damned garbage bin and snort it. I’m disgusted by the lack of hygiene more than anything.
I hope their fucking noses fall off. I’ve seen it. It can happen.
I seethe. “So, is the whole department filthy, or is it just you six?”
“Goes to the top,” Packwell says with a triumphant laugh. “It’s been like this forever. Nothing new about it. There’s an entire army of us erasing your kind. You just don’t fit in this world, Omega. You should have picked another job.”
“Why?” I hiss through my teeth. “And what is an omega? What are you even smoking? I’m Becky Dawson. I worked hard to get here. Fuck, Packwell, I’m just a normal person.”
Lee spits on the ground. “Ain’t nothing normal about you fucking omegas.”
“That report you did on the judge this morning, the DUI, that was your final fuck-up. It’s the perfect excuse to take you out and blame it on his supporters. You should have let it slide. I told you to let it slide. You’re one of those cops who just won’t be missed, and, really, it’s better to get rid of you now. Saves time and hassle. Besides, no one's going to miss you.”
I gape at him. “You’re a cop. A bloody cop. You have to protect this city. This is our whole lives.”
