“Yeah, I got the call, but I’m not happy about it. I’m on the way,” I said into the radio.

I turned on the police headlights and sped toward Tate Highland’s house. “Why do I always get these calls?” I asked myself.

Everyone told me that Tate was unbalanced. I felt terrible for the guy because I heard what he had gone through that night. But the accident with his omega happened years ago, and the guy couldn’t seem to move on. All that meant for me was another night of dealing with a loose cannon.

The radio blared back at me. “It’s a suitable job for a nice beta such as yourself,” the operator said.

I rolled my eyes. “Right. Over and out, losers,” I said.

I was the new guy in town, the Texan kid who made the profoundly stupid idea of moving to a small town up north. Watson County, the worst place on earth. It was my first day on the job, and I was already getting shit about my identity as a beta.

I pulled up to the lone house, near the massive lake. “Place gives me the creeps,” I whispered.

Tate walked onto his porch, dragging his rifle against the wood staircase. He waved as I put the car in park. I leaned out of the window and asked, “Mind putting down the weapon?”

Tate smirked. “Or what? Are you going to leave me for dead too?” he asked.

I stepped out of the car. Most officers would have cuffed him on the spot, but I was explicitly warned not to waste the resources on taking him to jail. Plus, it didn’t look like he had ever fired the weapon in the first place.

Tate was wearing an unbuttoned long-sleeve button-down shirt. His massive, muscular chest was exposed, revealing a set of tattoos. Chiseled face and all, his eyes couldn’t hide the real hurt embedded within them. Tate looked like a burning wreck of emotions.

“Come on, Tate. Just put it aside for a few minutes,” I said.

Tate sighed and leaned the weapon against his house. “Sure thing, officer,” he said. I looked toward my right and caught a glimpse of his son peering out from his shattered window. He quickly ducked under the covers.

“Okay, so what happened?” I asked him.

“Some bastards in a truck came by to mess with us. They threw a flaming torch through the window,” Tate said. I glanced down at Tate’s hands. They were shaking against his thigh. He noticed my eyes and quickly hid his hands out of sight.

The other officers at the station liked to describe Tate as a bearded sociopath, hell-bent on destroying his own life. All I saw was a man who couldn’t trust the world anymore.

Tate was a rugged and dedicated man. That was what I first noticed about him. He was a man who worked for what he got. Did he frighten me? Maybe a little. But I was also intrigued.

“A torch?” I asked.

“That’s what I said,” he muttered. “Here. You can come inside if you want.”

I gave him a short smile. “I’m okay with that as long as you keep that rifle out here,” I said.

Tate actually laughed. “Sorry about that. Those assholes riled me up a little, I guess. Sometimes I—”

I cut him off. The pain in his eyes was too much for me to bear at that moment. “It’s okay. You don’t need to explain. Just show me what happened,” I said.

We walked into his comfortable house. It was a cabin-style home, completely refurbished and very stylish. I kept wondering why the guys back at the station hated him so much, but I couldn’t figure it out.

I received their catchphrase all of the time: “You’ll realize how things work around here soon enough, beta.” Sure. All I knew was that somebody had been lying to me.

Tate quickly walked into his kitchen and grabbed two beers. He handed me a bottle, but I set it back down on the counter. “I can’t accept this,” I said.

Tate shrugged and put the beer back in the fridge. He fumbled at his own, quickly sipping at the contents. “I’m surprised you came down here, actually,” Tate said. “You’re that new beta cop that everybody has been talking about, right?”

I felt my back straighten as I tried to stand up taller. “Right. Moved here from Dallas,” I said.

I glanced down at his chest and gulped. “Well, this place is a hell of a lot different from Dallas,” Tate said.

“How so?” I asked. I wanted to get as much information as possible.

“Power. Lies. Corruption. You name it. It’s all around us. But it doesn’t matter what I say. You’ll call me crazy like the rest of them,” Tate said.

“Well, if you keep calling yourself crazy, you’re going to have some issues with that label,” I warned him. “Let’s just stick to the facts, okay?”

“Whatever you want,” he muttered. Then, he motioned toward the hall. “The torch is in my son’s room, but he’s asleep. I’ll knock first.”

Family pictures lined the hallway featuring better times and happier faces. Tate was front and center in most of them. Tate had his arm curled around his husband’s waist.

Tate’s eyes looked bright back then. His family was beginning to form for them. The emotional weight hit me dead center in the chest. I had my dad back home, and I knew that he struggled with a lot of the same issues.

Tate saw me eyeing the framed memories. “Good times, right?”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude,” I said.

Tate took a deep breath. I could see his eyes glaze over with deep ache. “It’s okay. But I know what you’re thinking. We’re still a happy family. I’ve gotten over those days,” he said.

I nodded. I wasn’t trying to analyze Tate. I was merely trying to figure out why this town had demonized this perfect, little family. It didn’t make any sense.

The door to his son’s room opened slowly. “I’m not asleep. Sorry, dad,” he said.

“It’s okay. Rowan this is…” Tate hesitated for a moment. “I never got your name.”

“Elliot,” I said. “Elliot Marie.”

“The new beta cop?” Rowan asked.

I let out a short, conflated laugh. “The beta cop. Sure,” I said.

“Hey, man. It’s cool with us. We’re different too,” Rowan said. Tate frowned but ultimately just shrugged his shoulders.

I’ve always been different to people. Back in Texas, there were plenty of betas, but I knew moving to a small town would set me apart. So far, I hadn’t met a single beta in the whole city.

I stepped into the boy’s room, immediately treading across the broken glass. I looked down and saw the torch and the patch of the burnt floor beneath it.

“The bastards ruined the carpeting. That’s going to cost me a fortune,” Tate muttered, shaking his head.

I exhaled sharply and walked over to the window. I leaned outside. “So, they just came up and threw it in?” I asked. I turned around and saw the boulder that accompanied the torch. It had rolled underneath Rowan’s bed.

“I don’t know why I even called,” Rowan said. “This happens at least once a month. They called me an ‘omega killer.’ Me. I don’t fucking understand.”

“Language,” Tate growled.

“Give it a break, dad. I’m done with this shit. Do you hear me? Let’s just move,” Rowan said. He was struggling not to cry, but eventually, the first set of tears broke through, dragging across his fair cheeks.

A fire of emotion ran through my chest. Every fiber of my being wanted me to find those men. Another part of me knew that wouldn’t happen. “I’m going to make a report. Can you give me the year, make, and model of the truck?”

“White Chevrolet,” Tate said immediately. It could have been a 2015, but I didn’t get a great look at it.”

“Okay,” I muttered. I had my work cut out for me. The worst part was that I knew the alpha cops back at the station were going to give me shit for taking on this case.

I picked up the torch and held it in my hand. There was so much hatred packed into a symbol like this. Why couldn’t people change and learn to become compassionate?

Tate sighed as he led me back out to the kitchen. Rowan turned off the lights of his room and shut the door. I walked out onto the porch and shook my head. “I’m sorry you had to deal with this tonight,” I said.

I meant it. The world was such an awful place sometimes. I always thought that cops were supposed to help, not interfere. “It’s okay. Really, it is. I don’t care what people do to me. I worry about my boy, Elliot. I don’t want him to feel like he’s in danger,” Tate said.

“That’s a reasonable request,” I said.

On the porch, the air was cold. I could see the stars’ reflection in the lake. It was peaceful out here, and I was standing close to the man everyone had warned me about.

Tate was kind, caring, and compassionate. On the other side of things, he was frustrated and alone. But wouldn’t anyone feel frustrated if no one was offering any solutions?

“I’m glad you came here,” Tate said. “We don’t have anyone on our side. And I’m not asking you to pick sides either. All I’ve ever asked is that you hear us out. It’s either that or I start going after trespassers. I’m not a violent person, Elliot.”

His cologne mixed in with the thick, earthy pine scent of the forest. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath inward. When I opened them again, Tate’s muscular chest was directly in front of me.

I gulped down and felt my cheeks turn hot. “I believe you,” I said.

When I felt my cock twitch inside of my pants, I knew it was time to go. If I didn’t leave, I’d do something I’d regret.

“I’m making a report,” I repeated. “White Chevrolet pick-up.”

Tate laughed. He knew I wouldn’t be able to figure anything out, but I think he respected me for trying. Either that, or he thought I was just plain dumb. I could live with either assumption.

“See you around, Elliot,” he said.

I smiled as I put the car in reverse. There was something kind about that alpha. I had to help him.