Chapter 112

Robert’s Pov

The patrol car cruises up to a slow stop. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” I hear the officer who arrested me mumble under his breath. I don’t bother asking him what’s going on. I’ve already tried to make light talk and I’ve gotten nothing out of him. Not even his name.

I’ve hardly gotten a good look at the guy. All I know is he’s tall, broad shouldered, and his burnt auburn hair is just beginning to gray on the temples. In other words, I might be able to take him in a fight.

Eventually, I get my unasked question answered. The sidewalks lining the police station are littered with pedestrians. Many of who are holding vulgar signs. I can’t make out what they’re saying, but I imagine their shouting words are about as welcoming as their scowls.

Though it’s dark out, I can see at least twenty people practically trampling over one another trying to get past the guards and get to the car. I’m not sure what they would do should they reach us, but for once I’m glad to be confined to this vehicle.

“Well, you finally got your attention.” The officer says as his first words to me during our long journey. Though I don’t say anything back. I keep my eyes focused on the crowd that wants to strangle me.

I was told the windows are tinted so people on the outside can’t see me, but the way the mob is throwing themselves at the guards and increasing in their range makes me think otherwise. I consider slinking down in the seat, but if the crowd seeing me makes the task of the officers on duty more challenging then why not raise a little Hell?

The officer speaks into his shoulder, something about possibly taking me around back- though when he laughs I suddenly get the feeling that idea won’t be happening. I can’t help but think there’s no way Roman would ever let his favored son be treated this way.

Then again, Arthur would never dare air his father’s mistakes to the public. I think that alone shows I’m more worthy of Alpha title than Arthur is. I’m someone who takes risk, who isn’t afraid to cause a little trouble if it means getting work done.

“Is this my stop?” I ask, fully prepared to face the mob. Without a word, the car is put in park and the officer climbs out his seat. He comes over to my side and opens the door. Instantly my ears are assaulted by the roaring anger of the crowd.

I’m yanked out of the car and thrusted into the limelight. Surprisingly, I’m greeted by flashes of cameras too. I barely orient myself before the officer is already telling me to move and hauling me forward. I only catch glimpses of the insults people are shouting and questions from press being hurled in my direction.

I decided to irk the crowd even more and smile broadly at them. It works. The energy of the mob heightens. The officer pulls me back, pinching my wrists in the cuffs and he yells in my ear, which serves to drown out the hollering of others and ensures I hear him loud and clear.

“What are you doing? Do you want to add inciting a riot to your list of charges?” I feel the heel of his palm slam into my back causing me stumble, the crowd goes wild and hot anger floods through my veins.

I straighten myself out and drive my heels into the ground. I turn to face the crowd.

“A word for the press,” I tell them and the officer has to abide. Afterall, freedom of speech is the utmost important right. “My name is Robert, and I am the rightful heir to Alpha status in the Hurricane Pack.” I turn my cheek and let the officer push me inside as the shouting comes to an end at the doors close behind us.

The police station is purposely designed to be depressing. It’s dimly lit, not that there’s much to illuminate anyways. It’s a crammed gray steel box with an odd lingering smell of sweat. In many ways, it’s cozier than the places I grew up in.

The officer pushes me into a small room and forces me onto a metal chair. “Wait here.” He says, as if I have any option to go elsewhere. He leaves room, locking the door behind him.

The only sound is from a buzzing light bulb that dangles overheard. Compares to the otherwise silent room, it’s deafening. There’s a large tinted window plastered on the wall to my left, which I assume is a one-way mirror. I flash them a smile.

I lean back in the chair, stretch my legs out, and make myself comfortable. I have all the time in the world, Arthur on the other hand-

“What are you smiling about?” I hear a voice call out and I look up to see the same officer who dragged me in here standing by the door looking at me with bothered suspicion.

“Oh, nothing.” I don’t try to hide my amusement. “Just happy to be alive is all.”

“Well, I wouldn’t speak so soon.” The officer comes to stand next to the table, but doesn’t take a seat in the chair opposite to me. “The charges against you are pretty serious and we’re not above the death penalty here.”

I know he’s trying to scare me or whatever, but he’s going to have to do lot better than yet. In fact, I don’t I’ll be the one dying any time soon. “I’d like to make a phone call.”

“Hang on a moment. Answer me this, why? Why make up a lie and cause the innocent family all this trouble?”

The smile falls from my face. “You think I’m lying?” The officer simply shrugs and my nostrils flare. “I wouldn’t do all of this for stupid attention. That’s not the end, that’s only the means. A happy by product.” I hate the way my temper is rising, but I can’t stop it now. “I’m finally coming out with the truth because the Hurricane Pack is not innocent. I was and I was wronged.”

He just eyes me and I can’t tell what he’s thinking, which is probably what he wants. “Well you’re going about it in the wrong way.” I snort a laugh.

“Maybe, but I never said I play fair. I must get that from my father.” I smirk. The officer opens his mouth like he’s going to say something else and I shake my head. “Look, all due respect. You’re a cop, not a family counselor. Stick to the job you know.”

Still leaning across the table, the officer just looks at me for a long time. I stare back, getting a good long hard look at his face. He’s got some freckles that his mommy probably loved he was baby, now they plague him by making him appear more immature than he probably is.

“Who do you want to call?” He finally asks.

“Roman,” I tell him, still staring at his freckles. “I know how to cure his favorite son.”

The cop squints his eyes at me. “And you’re going to give him the cure? Just like that?”

I laugh at the absurdity of the question. “Absolutely not.”

“What makes you think he’ll believe you?” The cop asks me, and I consider this. He actually has a point.

“Fine. Bring him to me.” I dismiss the cop, and when he doesn’t get up to bid my request I arch my eyebrow. The cop just simply laughs.

“Why would I do that?” He asks through fits of laughter.

I don’t take it personally. I know he’s whipped by Roman. I wait for the idiot to calm down before I can explain exactly why him fetching Roman and bringing him here is the best option for himself.

“Because, if you arrest me for the charges Roman is pressing then I’ll get a lawyer and we’ll go to court. It’ll get messy, as I am telling the truth after all. I doubt Roman wants this to go more public than it already is.” I pick at the dirt under my fingernails.

“In the meantime, Arthur is going to turn into a vampire, or die. If he got bit three days ago, I’d say he only has two days left before this becomes permanent.” I give my own self-righteous laugh, “Imagine being the cop that could’ve prevent all this from happening, and didn’t.”I lift my gaze back up to the cop, he’s not laughing anymore. “The girl too, Almara. I want to speak to her.”