Page 29 of Hunted Omega: Part Two

“Good luck with the viewing! I think you’ll love the space,” she says brightly before hanging up.

I take a breath, staring at the keypad on the door. 4972. This could be it.

I take a few steps forward, my feet sinking into the worn carpet. The space is smaller than I imagined, but it has potential. Lots of natural light pours in through the windows on both sides of the room, and the high ceilings give it an airy feel.

I make my way to the back of the room, where there’s a small kitchenette and a bathroom. The kitchenette is in desperate need of some TLC, but I can picture Aria taking her breaks there, brewing coffee and having lunch with her coworkers.

As I turn to head back out to the main room, I notice a door tucked away in the corner. Curiosity gets the best of me, and I walk over and open it.

To my surprise, there’s another room behind it. It’s smaller than the main area, but it has its own sink and counter space. This could be perfect for Aria’s private workstation.

A smile spreads across my face as I imagine Aria’s reaction if she saw this place. She would love it.

My heart swells with determination as I pull out my phone and start taking pictures of every inch of the space. This is happening.

After snapping a few more photos for reference, I exit the salon and lock up behind me. As I walk back to my car, my mind races with ideas.

Maybe we can have live music nights once in a while? And workshops on self-defense for omegas? The possibilities are endless.

I can make sure that every single omega in here feels safe, secure, and wanted.

I turn to leave, stepping out into the bustle of the street, the sun warms my face. Just as I start to walk away, I nearly collide with someone.

My heart leaps when I look up and see Aria standing right in front of me, her eyes wide with a mix of surprise and suspicion. Her scent—orange with that unique Aria twist—wraps around me, familiar and grounding. It’s like a punch to the gut.

“Aria,” I blurt, my voice catching in my throat. This isn’t how I planned any of this to go down. Not at all.

She blinks at me, her eyebrows knitting together in a way that indicates she’s about two seconds away from deciding if she’s going to walk away or fight. “Quinn? What are you doing here?” There’s an edge to her tone, like she’s weighing the pros and cons of sticking around.

I scramble for words, anything to fill the awkward silence. “I… I’m opening a salon!” It comes out too fast, too eager, and Iwince internally. I sound like a kid bragging about his new toy. Great job, Quinn. Real smooth.

Aria’s expression shifts from surprise to something more guarded. She glances at the empty space behind me, and I can see her trying to piece it all together. “A salon?” She sounds skeptical, like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Yes,” I say, trying to rein in my nerves. “I thought it could be a safe space for omegas… for you, if you wanted it.” I’m rambling, the words spilling out faster than I can catch them. “No pressure or anything, but I wanted to do something that shows I’m serious about making things right.” I’m babbling, and I know it. I’m moving too fast, throwing everything at her without stopping to think.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Aria’s eyes flicker with something—maybe hope, but it’s buried deep under layers of hurt I can’t even begin to untangle. Her body language screams that she’s on high alert, and I realize I overwhelmed her—again.

“I’m sorry.” I backtrack quickly and step away to give her space, holding my hands up to show I’m not a threat. “I didn’t mean to spring this on you. It’s just an idea, something I’m working on. No pressure, I swear.” The words tumble out like I’m trying to put out a fire with a squirt gun.

Aria’s shoulders relax a little, and I cling to that tiny bit of progress like it’s a life raft in choppy waters. “Quinn, I… I appreciate the gesture, really, but this is a lot to take in. I need time.” Her voice softens, losing some of the bite, and it feels like a small win.

I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Of course. Take all the time you need. There’s no rush and no expectations.” I mean it. I’ll wait as long as it takes.

Aria gives a small nod, her lips twitching into the faintest hint of a smile. It’s barely there, but to me, it’s everything. “Thank you for telling me. I’ll… think about it.”

As she walks away, I watch her go, my emotions churning inside me like a storm. Relief, hope, and regret mix together, making my head spin. I want to run after her and say something more, but I know that isn’t what she needs. This isn’t about me bulldozing my way back into her life. It’s about giving her the space to decide what she wants, and if that means waiting, then I’ll wait.

I turn back to the storefront, taking in the dusty windows and the way the late afternoon sun casts long shadows across the floor. This is more than just a place to cut hair. It’s a shot at redemption. It’s a chance to build something real, something that’s not weighed down by all the mistakes I’ve made, and it’s a way to show Aria that I’m not the same guy who messed everything up.

Pulling out my phone, I dial Malachi, letting the familiar sound of his voice steady me as I fill him in. “Malachi? We need to talk. I have an idea—and I just ran into Aria,” I say, my heart still racing from the unexpected encounter.

Malachi listens quietly, his presence on the other end of the line acting as a grounding force. “One step at a time, Quinn,” he says, his tone firm but gentle. “It sounds like a good start. Keep me posted and remember why you’re doing this.”

As I hang up, I can almost hear Dash making some smart-ass comment about me opening a salon. Zane would just give methatlook, the one that says he’s pretending not to care, even though I know he’d be the first to show up for the opening, brooding in the corner like he’s too cool to be there.

Cayenne, though, would probably pat me on the back and tell me to keep going, determination shining in her eyes like a dare.

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