Page 13 of A Pack of Pumpkins
Victor rolls his eyes. Jack nods like it’s the most reasonable thing in the world.
I head to the porch to wait.
Dagan
Myomegaissmalland beautiful. When I spotted her on the beach in that adorable dress, I wanted to run to her and scoop her up. But I contained myself—barely. I don’t want to scare her off. She looked upset when she saw me, and I wasn’t sure why—until I saw her interaction with Victor.
When she told us why the police had been here before we arrived, I was ready to tear the house apart. Cautiously I enter the omega suite. I’m aware of the kind of trust Clara’s put in me by allowing me in here, and I would gut my brother before breaking it.
My stupid, stubborn, asshole of a brother. We’d already gone at it on the porch before I joined Clara in the kitchen. I gave him my fucking mind, and, as usual, he blew me off. I get why he’s hesitant about the omega, but that doesn’t excuse treating her like shit. I will fight him every day if it means keeping her happy, and her scent from going sour again. It turned bitter around Victor.
The suite is elegant, with high ceilings. It smells like her. All apples, butter, crust, and cinnamon. A perfect pie wraps around me.
But there’s another scent in here. Baked bread.
My alpha snaps at the surface.
Clara arrived yesterday. She said no one else had been here except the Sheriff and the Deputy, and I doubt either of them entered this room. Alpha-omega customs and all that. I stalk to the nearest door and rip it open, ready to destroy whoever’s hiding out.
Not a ghost of a person in sight.
It’s a smooth room with rounded walls, no windows, and a recessed space for sleeping. Undecorated, so the omega can make it her own. Nowhere to hide.
But that baked scent lingers. And with no one to pin it on, all I can do is double-check the master suite and move on.
“What the fuck!” Victor’s shout echoes from the second floor.
I run down. Bram is running up the stairs from the main floor and Jack's already at Victor's door peering in. I meet him there. Victor is standing in the middle of his room. It has a king-sized, four poster, ornate bed that matches the decor of the rest of the house. There’s also a dresser and a side table on one wall, and a picture window looking out onto the front drive on the other. The window is wide open.
Victor’s staring out of it. Jack covers his mouth to muffle a chuckle. I push past him to look out the window too.
All of Victor’s clothes, everything from his duffle, are scattered across the lawn.
But Victor isn’t laughing. His face is twisted with rage. I start to sign, trying to get him to think. But he’s already storming out.
Bram and Jack chase after him. He's about to do something stupid again. And I won’t let it happen. I take the stairs two at a time. I may be shorter than Jack and Bram, but I’m faster, and by the time I catch up, Victor’s already reached the back porch.
"Just 'cause I don’t worship the ground you walk on for being an omega, you throw my shit on the lawn?" he shouts.
Fuck no.
I storm out and shove him down the three steps. He stumbles, doesn’t fall like I wanted, but lands on his knees. He pops up fast, but I’m already in his face.
Bram, our dominant alpha, is right behind me. Jack is on the porch swing next to our girl who—fucking Goddammit—has tears in her eyes. I catch her scent on the wind. Fully burnt. Completely upset.
“I didn’t—” she starts. But I hold up a hand.
“I know you didn’t,” I sign and Jack translates.
“And how do you fucking know that? Did one of you do it? I don’t think so.” Victor’s breaths are ragged. He’s seething. This isn’t about the clothes, but I know my brother. He isn’t going to talk about the other stuff.
“When did she do it?” I ask him.
He stares at me. “I don’t fucking know. This morning.”
“You were still in your room when she came out to walk on the beach and met me. So she was with me when you got up. Were your clothes on the lawn then?”
He glares at me. Hot fury making him not want to listen.
