[⚠️ Trigger Warning: Mention of Abuse (Physical and Emotional)
This chapter contains descriptions of trauma, child abuse, and emotional distress. Reader discretion is advised.]
Robbie's POV
"What the hell are you doing here?" Fred grumbled the second I slammed the door to his SUV. "And why did y—"
"Start driving. We don't have time to chit-chat," I snapped, crossing my arms and scowling.
"You're one to talk. You wasted fifteen damn minutes dragging me and the cops here!" Fred barked, glancing nervously in the rearview mirror at the two police cruisers tailing us.
"There's a reason for that," I muttered, my tone tight with tension. "Where the hell is that jackass?"
"Here." Fred shoved his phone under my nose with one hand and floored the accelerator with the other.
I glanced at the screen. My eyes widened.
No wonder Olsen's been so smug. No wonder he thought no one could track him down.
"The ruined mansion at Emaulsen," I muttered darkly.
"What? What the hell is that?" Fred asked, stealing his phone back to navigate while signaling the cops to follow.
"It's Olsen's old family estate. The place has been abandoned for years."
"Huh? I thought his last name was Ols—"
"He changed it," I cut in sharply.
Fred scoffed. "You seem to know an awful lot about him. What are you, his biographer?"
I let out a dry laugh. "Olsen's father and my grandfather were friends. So, yeah, Dad and Olsen were childhood buddies."
"No wonder they share hobbies," Fred muttered under his breath, just as he took a sharp turn that flung me against the passenger door.
I didn't argue. Shame prickled at the back of my neck.
"I don't even know when Dad became like this," I admitted quietly. "He was always narrow-minded, sure, but… never like this."
"A child-abducting piece of shit?" Fred offered, his voice dripping with contempt.
I said nothing. What could I say? My father had helped kidnap Twen. He was part of this mess, complicit in Tony's suffering. There's no coming back from that.
Fred's voice cut through my thoughts again. "So are you gonna tell me what beef Tony has with Olsen, or do I have to keep guessing?"
I swallowed hard, guilt forming a tight knot in my gut. "...He's the father of my ex-fiancée."
Fred slammed the brakes so hard I nearly face-planted the dashboard.
"Excuse me?" he gawked, then quickly resumed driving.
I told him. Not everything. Just enough.
By the time I was done, Fred was glaring daggers at me. "Old man, if you're gonna protect someone, maybe don't piss off every psycho with a grudge! These people get off on crushing anyone they can. Especially omegas."
"I know," I muttered.
God, I knew. And it made me sick. This is all my fault.
How do I even look Tony in the eye after what I let happen to him? After what Twen went through?
Fred glanced at me again. "So why the name change?"
"It's a long story. And honestly, I'm not really in the mood to rehash Olsen's tragic backstory."
Fred scoffed. "We're about to confront a criminal. Knowing what kind of skeletons he's hiding might help. People like him always have tales, always leave cracks in the mask."
He wasn't wrong. I needed the distraction anyway.
"Olsen was orphaned at six. His aunt, a vicious, manipulative bitch, took control of the family business and took him in. Or rather, took ownership of him. My dad told me Olsen came to school constantly covered in bruises. Physical, emotional, and psychological abuse, he endured it all.
"When he was sixteen, his aunt orchestrated a scandal. Claimed he had assaulted a girl in his school, Charlotte. An omega, from a powerful German family. Whether it was true or not didn't matter. The family was furious. Olsen was thrown in juvie. His aunt used that chance to disown him. He had nothing."
Fred let out a long, stunned exhale. "Jesus."
"After that, he disappeared for six years. When he came back… he wasn't the same. Like something inside him died."
"Sounds like some Netflix drama," Fred muttered, half in awe, half disgust.
"Right? He changed his name. Took revenge on his aunt. Destroyed her. Then married Charlotte, yeah, the same girl. Her family welcomed it. Probably because he became someone powerful. Built up an import-export business. Which doubled as a front for drug smuggling and exploiting omegas."
Fred whistled. "That guy doesn't just toe the line. He sets it on fire."
"He lost faith in the law," I said quietly. "After everything he went through, when no one protected him, he started thinking the system only works for the powerful. So he became one of them. Found the loopholes, manipulated them, and mocked the law every step of the way."
Silence settled between us, heavy and suffocating.
Fred broke it first. "My dad used to say: 'Monsters aren't born. They're made.' And I think we just found living proof."
I looked at him. Eyes on the road, jaw tight. Fred's the kind of guy who hides his depth behind sarcasm and laziness. But every once in a while, he says something so grounded, so damn real, you can't help but see through the mask.
"We're here," he said.
We pulled up to a blackened, rusted gate barely hanging on its hinges. The mansion beyond looked like something straight out of a horror movie—moss-covered walls, flickering lights, creepy-crawling bugs. A haunted house for the damned.
Fred and I jumped out just as the cop cars rolled in behind us. Before they could stop us, we sprinted toward the entrance. The door creaked ominously. One side was nearly off its hinges.
We didn't wait. We turned on our phone flashlights and barged in.
The police officers followed, spreading out and calling out clearings as they went: "Negative." "Nothing here." "Empty." Room after room, broken beams, rotting walls. Nothing but shadows and dust.
My pulse thudded in my ears.
Was my father wrong? Was Olsen even here?
But Amanda's phone had pinged here. And Olsen wasn't the type to leave loose ends.
Fred and I pressed deeper, checking every decrepit corner. The mansion was a shell, the north wing, the east wing, all empty. But then—
Whispers.
Footsteps.
All of us froze.
The sound came from the southeast. Fred and I exchanged a look. The officers nodded. We followed.
A flight of stone steps led down to a heavy wooden door. Light spilled out from underneath it.
Fred and I flanked the door with three officers behind us. We exchanged one last glance.
Then together, we kicked it open.
BANG.