Mated to the Alpha Twins

Chapter 37

While the bus ride had been somewhat uncomfortable, Justin’s presence was a welcomed distraction. Anything to keep my mind from what I was leaving behind soothed my frayed nerves.

At this time of night, there were little options on flights. My options were New York, Texas and Missouri. While New York was an intriguing option, my money would b**n much faster there. The flight to Texas wasn’t until the early hours of the morning. Waiting until the sun crested the forest line and hung above the clouds wasn’t an option. The wait alone would unravel me, my nerves turning me into a mess of anxiety.

Missouri it was.

I knew little about the state, but assumed the weather would be similar to Georgia. Humidity tempered with the brilliant sun, warm but not nearly as blazing as Texas or California.

I had little issue getting a plane ticket, my duffle bag serving as a carry-on item. Every dollar I spent weighed on my mind. Instead of counting each individual purchase, I pushed the number from my thoughts.

Thalia had been silent since our last conversation, buried deep in the depths of my wandering mind. I had a feeling we wouldn’t talk for quite some time.

My stomach had been a mess of knots and fear up until I boarded the plane. Once the plane left the ground, I released a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

Saving money where I could, I declined the offer of first class and smushed myself as close to the window as possible. The plane wasn’t crowded, but nearly every seat was full.

An older woman sat beside me, her child on the far end. I leaned my head against the window, peering out into the darkness of the sky. I might have enjoyed this flight during the day. The thick clouds hanging in the sky, resembling large tufts of cotton. At night it was hard to make out the shapes of the clouds, only dim stars speckled the sky.

A war between my self-control and eyelids ensued as they begun to close on their own accord. Exhaustion had been unknowingly creeping up on me since first hopping into the Taxi. The adrenaline from sneaking out of the house had long wore off. With my duffle bag tucked on the floor against the wall of the plane, I succumbed to the creeping darkness.

by the light scent of laundry detergent. Floral notes mixed with the crisp scent of soap. Somehow, I

soft voice called out,

lurched away from the older woman, the one I had been using as a pillow. With sandy blonde hair tucked neatly in a bun, small lines formed around her eyes and lips.

accent to her words. Her accent was light, weaving between her words in a way

face. I had used this woman as a pillow for the last few hours, and

mustered up the courage to ask her for the time, stifling a yawn as she told me it was past three in the morning. I was grateful to stand from the plane,

outside of the airport. Most of

a town called Higgins. I hadn’t heard much,

live on a whim, as I had never held that kind of control before. Higgins was half an hour drive from the airport. The drive was filled with silence and the dull static filled pulsing of the Taxi driver’s

nearest motel, one located in the center of town. The neon blue light flickered warily, ivy and vines working their way

cigarettes and cheap air freshener, but this place was only a means to an end. All

against my pants as I trudged up the cement stairs. The doors to each motel room were the same deep shade of blue as the railing. Some doors looked fresh, as though they had

I forced from my mind. While the bed smelled like someone’s dust filled attic, I curled up on it blissfully.

in my chest. No more Frank with his drunken rants and wandering hands. No more Melissa with

a split second, before two irresistibly handsome faces popped into

a brick of lead weighing down my stomach. I was almost positive someone had noticed my absence already. The old alarm clock on the table read 1:23p.m. I had slept well

always a chance no one had noticed my absence. It was Saturday, and I didn’t have a shift at the restaurant until much later

big bold letters saying ‘Missing’. Would I become one of those h****r stories they tell on television? The one where they talk of serial killers, missing women,

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