Page 19 of Hunted Omega: Part Two

“More than I ever thought possible,” I admit, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. “We all do, and we royally screwed things up, but this… this is bigger than our pack drama. Someone’s trying to manipulate her life, and I can’t just stand by and let that happen.”

There’s a heavy sigh on the other end of the line. “Alright, Quinn. I’ll help. Not for you or your pack though—for Aria.”

Relief washes over me, my shoulders sagging as the tension I’d been holding eases. “Thank you, Cayenne. Really.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” she warns, her tone sharpening. “This isn’t going to be easy. Scent Synergy’s security is no joke. We’re going to need to set up a secure connection. Can you get to your home office?”

I glance at my watch, calculating. “Yeah, I can be there in twenty minutes.”

“Good. I’ll remote in once you’re set up, and Quinn?” Her voice softens. “Be careful. If someone’s targeting Aria, they might not take kindly to us poking around.”

Relief floods me. “I’ll be careful. Thank you, Cayenne.”

As the call ends, I feel the weight of the plan settle over me. It’s a chance to make things right—a small step toward showing Aria that we’re trying. For the first time in weeks, it feels like we might actually have a shot at doing just that.

Tomorrow, I’ll present the idea to the pack. We’ll need to tread carefully and make sure we aren’t overstepping, but for now, I feel like we might actually have a shot at making things right.

The city buzzes around me, a symphony of scents and sounds, but all I can think about is Aria—her smile, her strength, the way her orange creamsicle scent lingers in my memory. We have a long way to go, but I’m ready for the challenge.

As I stare at my phone, the weight of what I’m about to do settles over me. This plan could be our salvation or our downfall. If I fail, I might not just lose Aria, but also tear apart the pack in the process.

Am I ready to carry that responsibility, and can I live with myself if I don’t try?

I realize I don’t think I can. Time to dive into the digital deep end and see what bytes we can catch.

8

ARIA

I stepout of Willow’s office, and my brain feels like it’s been through a blender set tomate bonds and omega rights.

Caught between a rock and a hard place? More like trapped in a maze where every turn leads to another dead end labeled “Scent Synergy.” I’m trying not to panic, but let’s be real, I’m about two seconds away from a full-blown freak-out.

Omega Guardians HQ is like a balm for my frazzled nerves. All sleek lines and cozy vibes, it’s designed to make omegas feel safe. The air’s thick with calming pheromones and subtle scent neutralizers. It’s like being wrapped in a security blanket, if security blankets came with a side ofyou’re not going to die today, promise.

As I round the corner into the lobby, my world tilts sideways faster than a drunk sailor on a roller coaster. A scent hits me like a freight train of alpha masculinity—cedar and amber with a dash ofI’m the boss, deal with it.Standing at the reception desk, commanding attention like he owns the place, is freaking Malachi.

My heart does a gymnastics routine in my chest, and breathing suddenly seems like an advanced skill I never mastered. Fear and anger duke it out in my gut, creating a blendof panic that’s becoming way too familiar. This is supposed to be my fortress of solitude, my alpha-free zone, and yet here’s Malachi, like the world’s most persistent pop-up ad.

For a hot second, I’m back in that nightmare when Pack Clarke discovered my secret. Zane’s glare, Quinn’s puppy dog eyes of betrayal, and Malachi’s disappointment all come rushing back, along with a metric ton of guilt and fear.

I dive behind a potted plant like it’s a shield against alpha pheromones. My hands grip the pot so hard I’m half expecting to leave dents. Part of me wants to curl up in a ball and pray for invisibility, but another part, the part that’s sick of feeling like a mouse in a house full of cats, is itching to march over there and demand answers.

And then maybe roll over and present my belly like a good little omega.Ugh, stupid biology.

As I’m having my internal debate, snippets of Malachi’s conversation float over. His deep voice sends shivers down my spine.

“…meeting with an omega… collaboration… support…”

My blood turns to a slushie, and fear tastes like pennies on my tongue. Is he here for me? Has he somehow sweet-talked Omega Guardians into gift wrapping me for him?

Before my brain can veto the terrible idea, I step out from behind my leafy fortress. My scent spikes with a cocktail of anger and anxiety strong enough to make a skunk jealous. “Malachi,” I call out, my voice sharp enough to cut diamonds. “What are you doing here?”

Great job, Aria. Accuse first, ask questions never. Real mature.

He turns, surprise written all over his annoyingly handsome face. For a split second, I catch something softer in his eyes—relief, maybe even concern—but it’s quickly hidden behind his usual mask. His scent shifts, washing over me with calmingpheromones. It’s textbook alpha behavior, and it only fans the flames of my anger.

“Aria,” he rumbles, his voice doing things to my insides that I’m not ready to deal with. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

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