Page 8 of Nest of Thieves
No one is there.
With one last look around, I start toward home. As soon as I return to my room, I hit the bathroom. The light isn’t the most flattering on my best day. I frown at the angry red skin around my nose while I wash my hands. I grab a rag, wetting it and gently cleaning the area better than I had before.
I won’t be able to be Jackie Morgan again, but at least I have more wigs and noses to choose from. If I had used my real identity, well, I’m not a fan of bars and orange jumpsuits. Not to mention how the stipend would hit my family. I’m not worried about my mom and dads so much as my sister and her mate. Tori is a beta and her mate is really good to her, but they don’t have enough money to pay back the stipend. When my parents fail to pay—because they will—Tori will get stuck with it. The government doesn’t take kindly to omegas not finding packs. To make a point, they’ll come for any and all family who’s alive to get their money back.
A bureaucratic method to keep omegas compliant. No, they won’t force me to take a pack; they’ll only come for everyone I love to pay back the exorbitant cost of schooling. If it weren’t for the money in my closet, I’d probably end up taking a pack to save Tori from being hurt by my decisions.
My phone—my Jo Walsh phone—rings in the bedroom, and I huff when I hear the ringtone I assigned to my mother, tossing the towel onto the counter. My scowl hurts my face, and I’m glad Daphne Walsh isn’t here to witness the reaction I have to her. It wasn’t always like this. I used to crave her approval, but that all changed when I realized my assimilation was more important to her than my happiness.
Ladies don’t steal, Jo. You’re meant for something more than the life of a pickpocket.
I was six the first time I heard those words. After she’d found a box full of random people’s belongings under my bed, she’d lost it. Once the screaming died down, she tried reasoning. Too bad my younger self didn’t give a crap about what the future held. Nope. My love affair with theft started young, and my mother could never understand it.
“Hey, Mom.” I pace across the tile floor, eyeing the dark-stained computer desk. To the outsider, it’s a normal piece of furniture. To me, it’s a weapons arsenal.
She sighs. “I called the dean’s office. You’ve been missing a lot of classes, Jo.”
I release a soft breath and relax my shoulders. I’ve been moonlighting as a professional thief for close to five years, and I still get paranoid about being caught, even though I know I’ve done a great job covering my tracks. No one is going to connect me to Jackie.
“I had a group project to work on. My grades are fine.” Excelling in my classes helps me fly under the radar. I’ve liked learning about business, and the degree will have some practical applications once I find a place to settle. Sometimes jobs like the bank are essential for building my new identity.
“Do I need to be worried? The stipend—”
“You don’t need to worry about the stipend. I’m mostly behaving and my grades are fine.”
The pause is agonizing. I know she doesn’t believe me, but she has no proof that I’m doing anything wrong. At least, no other proof outside of my lack of attendance, but if my grades aren’t suffering, what’s the big deal?
I was born an omega, marked with a ?? on the inside of my wrist that I typically hide with makeup. Mom never let me forget about being an omega. On top of reminding me about my future, she was vocal about her disapproval of my mischievous ways. That doesn’t make her a bad mother, only one that doesn’t understand her own child. I wasn’t born to follow the rules. I was born to bend them, occasionally break them, and sometimes skirt just around them.
The locks my parents put on my bedroom door and windows at home were meant to keep me inside and safe. I think, deep down, my parents thought they were doing the right thing. All the locks did was teach me how to break out. And eventually when I moved out and into the dorms, my newfound freedom was accompanied by a little acting out.
Okay, it was a lot, but that’s beside the point. The Jo Walsh most people know is a well-meaning omega.
“I hope you’re attending the Spring Soiree.”
I cringe. I’d forgotten about the silly event where omegas are paraded around for Philadelphia’s most eligible packs.
“Of course. I was getting ready to jump into the shower.”
“Uh-huh. I expect you to woo, Jo. I don’t want to hear about another incident.”
“That was three years ago,” I remind her.
“You got caught stealing an alpha’s watch and almost got expelled.”
Right. Some habits are hard to break and no matter how hard I try to be good, there are some things I can’t resist. A fifty-thousand dollar watch is one of those things.
Mom huffs. “You’re lucky he didn’t press charges. The family can’t afford to pay for your schooling, Jo. Get your shit together.”
“My shit is together.” I grip the phone tighter.
“It better be. I swear if you stick us with the bill—”
“Everything is fine, okay? You don’t have to worry about the stipend.” I grind my teeth together and clench my hand at my side. “I’ll be late if I stay on the phone for long.”
Tomorrow night is my last job for Laurence. Once that’s done, I’m gone. I’ll play the part for one more night to appease her. I can’t afford any fuck-ups when I’m so close to freedom. The last thing I need is her showing up to make sure I find a pack.
“Good. I don’t care who they are, just find a pack already. And for fuck’s sake, stop skipping class.”
