Page 47 of Knot Your Kismet

Murderous Accusations

Calista

I’m so tired. So fucking tired. My consciousness struggles to hold onto reality. What happened to me? I remember a park and…

My head spins as the pressure of something cuts across my wrists. It’s like the shock of reality zaps me awake, yanking me from the thoughts whirling over and over in my mind. Where am I? Why can’t I move? Where are Nolan, Lucas, and Jensen?

Fuck. What’s wrong with me? I feel sick.

A silhouette hovers over me, obscured by the halo of light beaming down from overhead. I try to wipe the hair from my face, but I can’t move my arms. The sound of metal clanking sends my soul reeling. What’s happening?

“Nolan?” I ask with a hoarse voice, trying to fight through my confusion. I need to open my eyes. Why won’t my body listen to my mind’s commands?

“Watch the restraints. She’s waking up,” an unfamiliar voice says, prodding through the haze until I see his figure.

“She’s sure strung out, isn’t she, detective?” It’s another man. “What do you think she’s on?”

I scream, trying to sit upright without success. They’ve bound my ankles too. There’s something about this position that scares me. I’ve never felt so helpless. So vulnerable.

Tears well in my eyes, and I can’t stop the sob wracking my chest. The tears burn down my cheeks, feeling as if they brand my skin.

A clammy hand slaps over my mouth, silencing me. The shock of the gesture startles me, and I glimpse… My pounding head steals the thought. I struggle to remember who, but this happened before. Someone covered my mouth. I taste the bitterness of—fuck!

I thrash against my restraints. Have I been kidnapped? Why can’t I remember anything except for the park and a gross hand?

“Shut your goddamn mouth. You’re not in danger.” A man hovers over me, snapping his fingers to grab my attention. “You’ve been detained and are in police custody.”

My eyes finally focus on him, and I spot a metallic badge. He’s not a kidnapper. He’s an officer.

“Why? What happened?” I mumble, wishing he would remove his palm from my mouth. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Are you going to be reasonable and stop screaming if I move my hand?” The officer gently raises his palm, testing me. He looks away and toward someone else who is just out of my line of sight.

I remain silent.

He takes my silence as a response and adjusts the medical bed, sitting me upright. The dirty dress triggers some clarity, and I remember why I had gone to the park—not the park—but City Hall. The driver dropped me off there so I could interrupt the Pack Kismet meeting with my proposal. After that? It’s all lost. All I can remember is feeling scared.

I notice the dried blood on my fingers and legs immediately, drawing my attention from my fuzzy memory and back to the present. Subtle pain radiates from my side, and I try to twist to get a better look.

More blood. A lot of it. By the stickiness of my back, I think I’m covered in it. The thought makes me gag and tilt my head down, releasing another cry. “What happened to me? Why am I here? I can’t remember anything,” I repeat, hoping the officer answers my question.

“Let’s start with your name and your pack,” another voice says, speaking before the officer who stands beside me can answer.

“Cali…” My head throbs as I once again try to remember what happened before I woke up here. I can’t get my mind to cooperate, and I close my eyes. “Please, tell me what happened. I don’t understand. Why am I here? I need to call my pack.”

“How convenient that you’re so tweaked out that you can’t remember anything.” The officer releases an exasperated laugh. He turns to the other guy who is dressed in a suit and tie. His authoritative air screams that he is part of the police force, and his attire tells me he’s someone higher up. He should be the one I’m talking to, not the guy looking at me as if I’m stupid. “You’ll need more than a phone call to your pack. You murdered someone. Was it over drugs? Money? Did the guy not pay you for your services?”

Murdered? I murdered someone? No. I wouldn’t. I couldn’t.

But the blood?

“Don’t put words in my mouth. I didn’t kill anyone,” I say, my sudden annoyance drowning out my fear.

“The knife you had on your person says otherwise. It takes a lot for an omega to do something like this. The state takes alpha abuse seriously. You should’ve filed a report instead of taking it into your own hands.” The uniformed officer gets in my face. Though his voice remains even, his body language says that anything I say will be the wrong answer. “If you tell us what really happened, we can help you.”

I flare my nostrils and glower. “I would like to call my lawyer. Also, please notify my pack. They’ll be distraught if they think something has happened to me.” If there was one thing I learned from my mom and Henry, it was that it was important for me to never give information without someone who knows the law better than I do.

“What you need is—”