Page 26 of Hunted Omega: Part Two

My stomach churns like I swallowed a live eel. For a split second, I consider turning the key in the ignition and driving away, but no. I’ve rehearsed this moment a thousand times in my head, pacing my room like a caged animal and muttering apologies to an invisible Aria until I was hoarse. I can’t keep running from this, not when the memory of her hurt expression haunts me every time I close my eyes.

The image of Aria’s face that day flashes through my mind—her eyes wide with disbelief, her scent soured with fear and betrayal. I let my alpha pride take over, and I growled and postured like some mindless beast.

“You lied to us!” I snarled, my words dripping with venom. “How can we trust you?”

The moment the words left my mouth, I knew I crossed a line. The hurt in her eyes and the way she flinched away from me was like a bucket of ice water, shocking me out of my rage. That was the moment I knew I needed help.

Dr. Harper’s voice echoes in my mind, calm and insistent as always.“Zane, avoidance is a form of self-protection, but it’s also a barrier to growth. What are you really afraid of?”

“Rejection,” I admitted in our last session, the word heavy and bitter on my tongue. “That she’ll look at me and see the monster I was, not the man I’m trying to become.”

“And if she does?” Dr. Harper pressed gently. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

“She’ll hate me forever,” I whispered, the fear raw and choking, like a hand around my throat.

“Or,” Dr. Harper suggested, her voice softening, “she might see your effort to change. But you’ll never know if you don’t try.”

The memory fades as I spot Aria leaving the building, her head down and her pace brisk. My heart hammers against my ribs like it’s trying to break free. I take a deep breath, inhaling the familiar scent of my car—a mix of leather, coffee, and the faintest trace of Aria’s perfume from months ago. It’s now or never.

I get out of the car, the door’s slam echoing louder than a gunshot in the busy street. Aria’s steps slow as she senses movement behind her, her shoulders hunching as she glances back. When her eyes land on me, her entire body goes rigid, like a deer caught in headlights. The scent of her surprise—a sharp, citrusy note—hits me even from this distance.

“Aria,” I call out, my voice cracking with nerves I can’t quite swallow. My throat feels like I gargled sand.

She stops but doesn’t turn around immediately. When she finally faces me, her expression is guarded, and her eyes dartaround like she’s calculating the quickest way to escape. The wariness in her gaze is like a knife twisting in my gut. She used to look at me with trust, with a warmth that made me feel like maybe I was more than the mess of my past, but now… now all I see is caution and maybe even fear. The scent of her anxiety mingles with the city smells of exhaust and street food, creating a nauseating cocktail.

Her eyes flash with a fire that both challenges and captivates me. Even in her anger, Aria’s spirit is undeniable. It reminds me of why I fell for her in the first place—that unbreakable core of strength that shines through no matter what.

“Zane,” she says, her tone as sharp as a blade. “What are you doing here? Come to yell at me some more, or is this a new kind of torture you cooked up?”

Her words hit me like a physical blow. I take a step closer, then I stop when I see her flinch. The last thing I want to do is make her feel trapped. “I… I was hoping we could talk,” I say, my voice losing its edge, the alpha confidence I’m supposed to have completely gone. “I know this is… unexpected and probably the last thing you want.”

Her eyes narrow slightly, a familiar crease forming between her brows. “Talk about what? Why would I want to talk to you after everything? You made your feelings pretty clear last time.”

I swallow hard, my throat as dry as sandpaper. This is it. The moment I’ve been rehearsing in my head for weeks, and yet, the words still feel inadequate.

“I want to apologize,” I blurt out, every syllable heavy with the weight of my failures. “I was wrong, Aria, so wrong that I’ve spent every day since trying to untangle the mess I made of myself. I know that doesn’t fix anything, but I needed you to know.”

Dr. Harper’s voice nudges at the back of my mind.“Specificity is key in apologies. Acknowledge exactly what you did wrong and how it affected the other person.”

I take a deep breath, forcing myself to meet Aria’s eyes, even though every instinct is screaming at me to look away. “I was cruel to you. I dismissed your feelings, your autonomy. I let my alpha pride and my insecurities drive me, and in doing so, I hurt you deeply. I’m sorry, Aria, truly sorry, and I know sorry doesn’t even begin to cover it, but it’s all I have right now.”

For a moment, Aria just stares at me, her expression a mix of emotions I can’t quite read. There’s anger, sure, and definitely skepticism, but there’s something else there too—something that almost looks like surprise, or maybe hope. It’s a glimmer, but it’s enough to keep me going. The air between us feels charged, like the moment before a thunderstorm breaks.

“Why now?” she asks, her voice cutting through the air like a whip. “Did you suddenly grow a conscience, or is this just another game? Because I’m done playing, Zane. I’m done being the chew toy for your mood swings.”

Her words sting, but I deserve them. “Because I’m clawing my way out of the pit I dug myself into,” I say, the words tumbling out in a rush. “Therapy, anger management… I’m trying to be better, to be worthy of… of your forgiveness, even if I don’t deserve it. I know that doesn’t erase what I did, but I’m hoping it’s a start.”

Dr. Harper’s words ring in my ears.“Remember, Zane, apologies aren’t about making yourself feel better. They are about acknowledging harm and giving the other person the space to process it.”

I watch Aria carefully, seeing her process my words. Her brow furrows slightly, that familiar crease deepening between her eyebrows. She’s thinking, weighing, and I can almost see the gears turning in her mind. Finally, she exhales, her breathshuddering like she’s letting go of something heavy. The scent of her conflicted emotions—a mix of anger, confusion, and something softer—washes over me.

“I… appreciate your apology, Zane, but I need time and space—a lot of both,” she says, her voice softer now but no less firm. “What you did… It isn’t something I can just forgive and forget because you say you’re sorry.”

It’s not the forgiveness I hoped for, but it’s a start. I nod, stepping back to give her the space she asked for. The concrete is rough under my feet, grounding me in this moment. “I understand. You didn’t have to hear me out, but you did. That means more than you know. And Aria? I meant what I said. I’m going to be better. Not just for you, but for myself too.”

Aria nods before turning away, her steps quick and deliberate as she walks down the street. I watch her go, the distance between us growing with each stride. The city seems to close in around her, swallowing her up in its noisy, chaotic embrace.

As she disappears around the corner, I pull out my phone, my fingers trembling as I dial Malachi’s number. It rings twice before he picks up, his voice steady and sure as always.

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