Page 28 of Hunted Omega: Part Two

Ginger nods, looking both excited and sheepish. “I know it sounds crazy, especially coming from me, but Aria, the workthey are doing is real. They aren’t just talking about change—they are making it happen.”

“And,” Cayenne adds, her eyes sparkling with something like hope, “I’m thinking of transferring here too. The opportunities for betas are incredible. I’ve already started mapping out the Omega Guardians’ systems. Give me a week, and I’ll know this place better than my own apartment.”

I lean back, stunned, the soft leather of the sofa squeaking slightly under my weight. My friends—my fiercely independent, alpha wary friends—are now willingly aligning themselves with Pack Clarke? It feels like the ground beneath my feet has shifted, leaving me off balance.

“I don’t understand,” I say, my voice small and uncertain. “How can you trust them after everything?”

Willow reaches over, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. Her touch is grounding, her skin cool against my feverish palm. “It’s not about blind trust, Aria. It’s about seeing actions that match words, and from what I’ve observed, Pack Clarke is really trying to make amends. They aren’t perfect, but they are trying. Sometimes, that’s all we can ask for.”

A heated discussion follows, each of my friends offering their perspective. I find myself thinking about each member of Pack Clarke.

“Guys,” I say, my voice cutting through their debate. “I think I need to take this one day at a time. I’m not ready to forgive and forget, but… maybe I’m ready to observe and see if their actions really do match their words.”

My friends fall silent, their faces a mix of pride and concern. Cayenne reaches over, her smile warm and reassuring. “Whether you’re kicking alpha ass or making nice, we’re your personal cheerleading squad—pom-poms are optional, but the snarky comments are mandatory.”

Ginger nods firmly, clinking her glass against mine with enough force to slosh wine onto the coffee table. “Always. We’re like a vodka, tonic, and lime. Separately, we’re good, but together, we’re a knockout that’ll leave you with a hangover and no regrets.”

Willow, a glint of mischief in her eyes, adds, “And speaking of observing, there’s an Omega Guardians event coming up. Pack Clarke will be there. It could be a good chance to see how they behave in a public setting. No pressure, just… something to think about. Plus, there’s an open bar. You know, in case you need liquid courage or a place to hide.”

I feel a flutter of anxiety mixed with something lighter, something almost like excitement. The thought of seeing Pack Clarke in a controlled environment, surrounded by the safety of Omega Guardians, is tempting. It’s a chance to observe, to assess, and to start figuring out what I want from this mess.

“I’ll think about it,” I say, surprised by how much I mean it, “but if I go, you’re all coming with me. I’m going to need backup and possibly a cattle prod… or at least some really pointy shoes.”

We spend the rest of the evening catching up, the heavy conversation giving way to lighter topics and shared laughter that echoes off the walls. As we toast to new beginnings—Ginger’s job, Cayenne’s potential transfer, and my uncertain but hopeful outlook—I feel a warmth spreading through me that has nothing to do with the wine.

Later, as I head up to my apartment, the idea of seeing Pack Clarke at the event both terrifies and intrigues me, but I push those thoughts aside for now.

Baby steps, Aria. You’re not running a marathon, you’re tiptoeing through an alpha minefield in stilettos.

I take a deep breath and open a window, feeling the crisp night air fill my lungs. The future is still a question mark, but forthe first time in a long while, it doesn’t feel like a threat. It feels like an opportunity.

I’m not going to let Zane or anyone else dictate my life. I’ll face this on my own terms, even if those terms include hiding behind a potted plant at a fancy event. This omega has backup, and we’re ready for whatever comes next.

14

QUINN

I strolldown the bustling shopping district, my mind racing a mile a minute. The street is alive with the chatter of people, the honks of impatient drivers, and the comforting, slightly bitter scent of freshly brewed coffee and occasional whiff of exhaust—urban perfume I’ve come to know all too well.

Today, though, it’s just background noise. Today, my eyes are locked on the for lease sign in the window of a corner lot that looks like it’s begging for a fresh start, just like me.

It began as nothing more than a thought. Aria loves her job, and she loves her clients—well, most of them—but I know she doesn’t feel completely safe at the salon, and I wondered how many other omegas feel that way. I don’t know a thing about hair, but what I do know is security.

This isn’t just a fleeting idea anymore—it’s a vision, something real I can offer. It’s a tangible way to show Aria that I’m not the same alpha she once knew. This salon isn’t just about haircuts. It’s a symbol of change, of growth, and finding a way forward. It’s a haven where omegas can feel safe, and maybe a place where Aria can find a piece of herself too.

“This could be it,” I murmur, my heart thudding in my chest like I just ran a marathon.

I dial the number for the leasing agent, my fingers tapping nervously on the phone screen. After two rings, a cheerful voice answers.

“Hi, this is Quinn. I’m calling about the space on the corner of Main and 5th,” I say, my voice a little too eager. “I saw the for lease sign and was hoping to set up a viewing.”

“Oh, great! I can give you the code to get inside,” the agent says, a bit of hustle in her voice like she’s juggling a few too many things. “We actually just installed a smart lock. Let me grab that code for you.”

I fumble for a pen, a mix of excitement and nervousness tightening my chest. “Yeah, perfect. I’m ready when you are.”

There’s a brief shuffle on the other end. “Okay, it’s 4972. Just punch that in, and the door should open right up. If you have any issues, don’t hesitate to call back.”

“Got it. 4972,” I reply, the numbers already burning into my memory. “Thanks, I really appreciate it.”

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