Page 61 of Taken Off Camera
Saint’s mouth curves into a slow, approving smile. “Now we’re talking.”
The screwdriver feels right in my hand, its weight an extension of my newfound determination. “Afterward, we’re paying Sebastian Rockford a visit.”
“Sebastian Rockford?” Saint repeats, his expression shifting. “As in,theRockfords?”
I raise my chin. “Yes. And he lives at the family estate.”
Saint whistles. “You set your sights high with your Alpha.”
“I have excellent taste.” I twirl the screwdriver between my fingers. “And my Alpha just needs a little hard love.”
Stepping onto a chair, I reach for the camera mounted in the corner of my living room.
The first screw comes loose. “Grab a box. We have a delivery to make.”
If my Alpha won’t come to me, then I will go to my Alpha.
16
Saint’s beat-up sedan crawls down the winding road toward Rockford Manor, the engine protesting with each curve. The box of dismantled security cameras rattles in the backseat.
“You sure about this?” Saint asks, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.
The leniency I had been willing to give for Sebastian’s freak-out faded in the process of taking down all his many, many cameras, and now pure anger fuels me. “Drive faster.”
The sedan wheezes as Saint accelerates, pushing it beyond what the poor car wants to give. Mansions and brick walls whip past our windows, the exclusive town of Skyhaven so far out of our league that I’mshocked the police haven’t already pulled us over to demand why we’re here.
“Jesus,” Saint mutters. “These people own half the county.”
I stare ahead, my throat tightening as the imposing gates of Rockford Manor come into view. Wrought iron spikes reach toward the sky, the family crest worked into the metal. A security booth stands beside them, manned by a guard in a crisp uniform who steps out as we approach.
Saint rolls to a stop, his car an embarrassing contrast to the luxury surrounding us.
The guard approaches with a professional mask of neutrality. “May I help you?”
I lean across Saint to peer out the window, vibrating with restrained fury. “We’re here to see Sebastian Rockford.”
The guard’s hand rests on his belt, close to what I suspect is a weapon. “Do you have an appointment?”
“No. But he’ll want to see me.” I twist to show the Mark on my neck. “Let him know his Omega is here.”
Shocked, the guard’s focus jumps between my neck and my face. “Sir, I’ll need to verify?—”
I cut him off, spotting the security cameramounted on the gate. I know who watches those feeds.
“Hey, Sebastian!” I shout, glaring into the camera lens. “Come out, you coward! Face me, or I start streaming again tonight!”
The guard’s mouth opens in shock as his radio crackles with sudden voices. He holds up a hand to tell us to wait and steps into his booth to speak to the people on the other end.
After a tense moment, he returns, his professional mask slipping to reveal confusion. “Mr. Rockford says to… let you through.” He signals to someone unseen, and the massive gates swing inward. “Follow the driveway to the front of the house. Someone will meet you there.”
“Damn right they will.” I collapse back into my seat as Saint accelerates through the opening.
The driveway stretches before us, a winding ribbon of ornate stonework bordered by trimmed hedges. Through the open window, I catch the scent of roses, though I don’t spot any of the flowers as we pass.
“Rich people,” Saint scoffs, but I detect the underlying awe.
My anger falters as we round the final curve. Rockford Manor rises before us, three stories of old-world grandeur with sunlight glinting off leaded glass, warming the stone façade to honey gold. Flowerpots line the steps leading to carved double doors tall enough to admit giants.
