Page 110 of Hunted Omega: Part Two

“Shame,” the other replies, his voice sending chills down my spine. “She smells delicious.”

I suppress a shudder, focusing instead on memorizing their voices. The driver has a scar running down his neck, visible in the rearview mirror. The other man’s hands are calloused, his knuckles scarred. Fighters, both of them. Every piece of information could be crucial.

The van eventually comes to a stop, and I’m roughly pulled out, the sudden brightness making me squint. We’re at some kind of warehouse, a hulking structure of corrugated metal andconcrete. Broken windows gape like missing teeth, and the air is heavy with the scent of rust and stagnant water.

As they drag me inside, my shoes scraping against the rough concrete, I deliberately scuff them on the ground, leaving faint marks—another clue, another breadcrumb for my pack to follow. I make note of every turn and every door we pass through. Left, right, down a flight of stairs. The air grows cooler and damper.

I’m thrown into a small, windowless room, the impact jarring my bones. The door slams shut with a metallic clang, leaving me alone in the darkness, but not for long.

“Aria, my dear…” Noah’s smooth voice cuts through the darkness. “It’s been far too long. I hope you’ll forgive the… abrupt reunion.”

Noah steps into view, his face illuminated by the harsh glow of a single bulb swinging overhead. His scent—pine and smoke with an undercurrent of something rotten—fills the room, bringing back a flood of painful memories.

As Noah circles me, I force myself to stand tall, steadily meeting his gaze. I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me cower. His eyes narrow slightly, a flicker of surprise quickly masked by his usual smug expression.

“You’re looking well,” he continues, circling me like a predator. The soft tap of his expensive shoes on the concrete floor echoes in the small space. “Your new pack has been taking good care of you, I see. How… touching.”

I remain silent, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. This seems to anger him, his scent sharpening with rage.

“Nothing to say, Aria? And here I thought you’d be happy to see me.” His tone is light, conversational, but I hear the underlying menace.

I can’t help but scoff. “Happy? To see the man who treated me like property? Who hurt me, isolated me, and made me feel worthless? Try again, Noah.”

His eyes flash dangerously. “I gave you everything, and how do you repay me? By running off with a pack of second-rate alphas?”

“They are ten times the alphas you could ever hope to be,” I spit back.

Noah’s hand shoots out, gripping my chin painfully. “Do you have any idea what you cost me?” he snarls, his facade of calm cracking. Spittle flies from his mouth, landing on my cheek.

“You killed Sara!” I scream at him, pushing all of my rage and pain into my words. Spittle flies right back at him.

He grips my arms and shakes me like a rag doll. “You disrupted my plans.”

He leans in close, his breath hot on my face, reeking of mint and something darker. “But that’s all about to change. You’re going to help me rebuild everything, Aria. You’ll be the crown jewel of my operation—the perfect omega, trained and obedient, setting an example for all the others.”

I meet his gaze, summoning every ounce of defiance I possess. “Never,” I say, my voice low but fierce. “I’ve faced your worst before, Noah, and I’m stronger now. I’ll die before I let you use me to hurt another omega.”

Noah’s eyes narrow dangerously, the blue turning to ice. “We’ll see about that. You always were stubborn, but I have ways of breaking that spirit of yours.”

He turns to leave, pausing at the door. “Get comfortable, Aria. You’re going to be here for a long, long time.”

As the door slams shut behind him, the sound reverberating in my bones, I let out a shaky breath. The fear is still there, clawing at the edges of my mind, but something else burns brighter.

Determination. Rage. Hope.

I close my eyes, focusing on the bond I share with my pack. I can’t feel them, not really—the scent blockers in this place are too strong, leaving only the musty odor of damp concrete—but I know they are out there, searching for me.

I begin to explore my prison, my fingers tracing the rough walls, searching for any weakness or opportunity. I test the door handle, knowing it’s futile but needing to try anyway. It doesn’t budge. I run my hands along the floor, feeling for any loose tiles or hidden openings. Nothing.

As I search, I whisper a silent promise to myself and my pack, my voice barely audible even to my own ears. “I will survive this, I will escape, and when I do, Noah, you’ll regret the day you ever laid eyes on me.”

I settle back against the wall, my mind racing. Noah thinks he’s won, but he’s wrong. I’m not the scared little omega he once knew. I’m a force of nature now, tempered by the love and strength of my pack.

A memory surfaces, unbidden. It’s from just a few weeks ago, during a rare moment of peace. We were all piled together on the couch, watching some cheesy action movie. I remember the warmth of Zane’s arm around my shoulders, the sound of Dash’s laughter, and the scent of the popcorn Quinn made. Malachi looked at us with a soft smile on his face, and said, “This is what pack means. This is what family means.”

As the reality of my situation sinks in, though, a chill runs down my spine. I’m alone, with no idea of when or if help will come. The walls seem to close in, the darkness pressing against my eyes. For a moment, panic threatens to overwhelm me.

Then I hear a sound so faint I almost miss it. Footsteps approach my door. Is Noah coming back to start histraining?

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