Page 21 of Rest In Knotty Pieces

Rolly leans forward, a deadly gleam in his eyes. “Is that true, Detective?”

“No, I didn’t choose for him, I chose for me. I am allowed to make choices for myself, aren’t I? And if you act like a damn animal and break into people’s houses and drug them, you do belong in a cage. As per the letter of the law under which we live.”

Pix sits back in his chair, his arms folded over his chest. He looks bored, but his scent’s locked down, and the muscles near his right eye are jumping.

“Blaze,” Rolly whines.

“No,” I say with finality.

“But he deserves it.”

“Not at the dinner table,” I reaffirm. I have rules, and those rules are absolute.

He throws himself on the table, letting out a wail.

King rubs circles on his back. “There, there, my baby, you can beat the nasty cop later.”

Pix snorts, and I shoot the omega a look. He looks away again, with an indescribable expression. He’s not happy. That much is clear.

I study Aaron for a long time, while the others talk. He doesn’t belong here with us.

We are all killers, but Roseland is still living in his delusions of good and evil and the grandiose world of justice that is black and white.

Except, sometimes you can do wicked deeds for good reasons. And sometimes bad people are perceived as good people. Take our parents, for example. Upright pillars of the world, except when it comes to parenting, in that they are true monsters.

Roseland is a good person. One of those true champions for the poor. Ever since I found out about him and Sage, I have made it my business to find out everything there is to know about him. I have stalked him, watched him while he slept, stolen his DNA, checked his police and medical files. There is nothing about this alpha that I do not already know.

Aaron Roseland likes to drink black coffee on his apartment balcony. He refuses to touch his family money, so he lives in this shitty, overcrowded apartment that is the best his salary can afford him. He doesn’t use his leverage or his badge to push his own political agenda. In fact, I’m not even sure he has an agenda. Aaron goes to soup kitchens and volunteers at the battered women’s shelter, running errands and fixing things for the omegas and betas he’s saved. He works day in and day out, running too many hours, looking exhausted while he fights an evil that he can’t hope to win against.

There is nothing I don’t know about this alpha, except this. And apparently, his discovery of the second omega. Those things he kept to himself. Which I find really, really interesting. What else has he managed to hide from me?

The question that’s bothering me is how did he find Pix.

I’m well aware of my younger brother’s proclivities towards killing people. It’s cute and overly dramatic. He has a taste for flair and fanfare, but for me, killing people is the act itself. Their bodies? Well, I make them disappear. No one finds them, or if they do, it always looks accidental.

For one so young and dramatic, the one kill I suspect I could pin on Rolly was so well executed that I can’t even be certain that he did kill him. King’s victims look like they were bashed if they turn up dead. There are numerous missing people that I can attribute to him. But no evidence.

Which leaves Pix.

I’ve heard rumours of a serial killer club. Just snippets off the wires I’ve placed in my brother’s car and bedroom.

If I’m right, this bored-looking omega may be one of the most dangerous serial killers in this room.

I have to have him. I need to have them all. They are like beautiful pieces of coloured glass, and I want to keep them on my shelf forever.

I swipe my hand across my face and lean forward, interrupting an argument about whether or not Merle should be allowed to leave.

“No one is leaving.”

No one is leaving because I can’t let you. I won’t.They are like a beautiful set, and I need them. Roseland doesn’t fit, not quite, but I’m willing to wait until he either does or doesn’t.

But they can’t leave. I stand up from the table and walk into the kitchen.

Sage follows, because, of course, he does, and presses himself against my back.

“Baby?”

“I need to have them. They are like beautiful lights,” I whisper as I lean back against him.