Page 30 of Hunted Omega: Part Two

For now, though, I’m here, staring at the empty space that could be my future. Whether Aria gives me the green light or not, I’m going to debug this mess I made one line of code at a time.

I’m going to rebuild my life, and maybe, just maybe, I’ll prove that second chances are worth fighting for. After all, if I can handle the pack’s tech security and open a damn salon, then I can handle whatever comes my way. Watch out, world. Quinn 2.0 is coming, and he’s bringing more than just hair dye—he’s bringing hope, determination, and a whole lot of heart.

The sun dips lower, and I know I have a long road ahead, filled with challenges and setbacks, but for the first time in a long while, I feel like I’m on the right path—a path that isn’t about proving myself to anyone else, but about finding a way to be better for Aria, for the pack, and most importantly, for me.

As I walk away, the lingering thought that sticks with me isn’t about the salon or even Aria’s reaction. It’s a simple, stubborn mantra that’s been guiding me all along—keep moving forward, because no matter how hard it gets, it’s the only way to find out if you’re on the right track.

15

ARIA

I can’t stop pacing.My apartment feels like a cage, every wall closing in as my thoughts spin out of control faster than a hamster on an energy drink. The lavender infuser, which I usually find soothing, now clogs the air like too much perfume at a retirement home.

I shove an orange candy in my mouth and turn the infuser off.

Quinn’s words keep bouncing around my mind like a ping-pong ball in a dryer.“I thought it could be a safe space for omegas… for you, if you wanted it.”It’s like he lit a spark I didn’t even know was there, and now I can’t put it out. I have a four-alarm fire of an idea and no extinguisher in sight.

I’ve spent too long letting others steer my life. This salon could be my chance to finally take control, to grab the wheel and screech off into the sunset like an omega with a mission.

Before I realize it, I’m grabbing a notepad and pencil, letting the scratch of graphite on paper steady me. Soon, I’m sketching layouts. It’s rough and messy, but the vision is there. The pencil moves almost on its own, forming lines and shapes of something that’s been buried inside me for way too long, like a time capsule I forgot I planted.

As I sketch, the scent of pencil shavings mingles with the orange, creating an oddly comforting aroma. My fingers tingle with each stroke, as if the energy of creation is flowing through them. The soft scratching of pencil on paper becomes a soothing rhythm, grounding me in the moment like a weighted blanket for my brain.

A memory floats up, as clear and sharp as a high-def replay.

“Sweetheart, you have real talent,” Aunt Sara said, admiring her freshly styled hair in the mirror. I was sixteen, the scent of hair spray and the warmth of the blow-dryer lingering in the air like a beauty parlor ghost. “Have you thought about cosmetology school? You could make a real career out of this.”

I shrugged, fighting the pride bubbling up inside me like a shaken soda. “Maybe,” I mumbled, scared to admit how much I wanted it.

Aunt Sara cupped my face, her touch gentle but firm. “Aria, you have a gift. Don’t let anyone tell you that you can’t follow your dreams, omega or not. Promise me you’ll at least think about it.”

I nodded, tears pricking at my eyes. “I promise, Aunt Sara.”

The memory fades, but the warmth of it lingers, mixed with a pang of grief. I glance down at my sketches, surprised at the detail and energy I poured into them so quickly. This isn’t just Quinn’s dream—it’s becoming mine. This is my chance to create something real, something that’s truly mine.

Damn it, I want that more than I want chocolate during my heat.

Aunt Sara would tell me to go for it. Hell, she’d drag me back to Quinn and demand I accept.

I grab my phone and dial Willow’s number before I can second-guess myself. The cool glass against my ear contrasts with the warmth of anticipation in my chest.

“Aria? Is everything okay?” Willow’s voice is tinged with that gentle concern she always seems to carry for us, like a mother hen with particularly snarky chicks.

“I’m fine,” I say, though my voice wavers like a tightrope walker on a windy day. “I just… I need to talk. Quinn had this idea for a salon, and I can’t stop thinking about it.”

I spill everything—Quinn’s proposal, the unexpected rush of excitement, and the ideas that have been crowding my mind ever since. Willow listens quietly, and when I finally pause, she lets out a soft, knowing laugh.

“Sounds like this idea has really caught you,” she says gently.

“It has,” I admit, pressing the heel of my hand to my forehead. “But Willow, am I crazy for even considering this? Working with Quinn after everything that happened? Am I setting myself up to star inOmega’s Biggest Mistakes: The Sequel?”

There’s a pause on the other end, and I can almost see Willow carefully weighing her words like a chemist with volatile substances. “It isn’t crazy,” she says, “but it is complicated. You have every right to feel cautious. You need to decide what’s best for you and what feels right in your heart. Remember, Aria, growth often comes from stepping outside our comfort zones. Just make sure you’re doing it for the right reasons, not because some alpha batted his eyelashes at you.”

I take a deep breath, letting Willow’s words settle over me like a warm blanket on a cold night. “I keep thinking… this could be more than just a salon. It could be a safe space for omegas—scent neutralizers, private booths for those who are scent sensitive or touch averse, maybe even a special room for omegas nearing their heat with extra comfort features, like a pillow fort, but classier.”

The ideas start flowing faster, my words tripping over each other like excited puppies. “And what if it wasn’t just asalon? What if it was a wellness center too? Massage therapy, aromatherapy, maybe even counseling services. A place where omegas could really relax and feel safe, like a spa, but with less cucumber water and morescrew the patriarchyvibes.”

“That sounds amazing, Aria,” Willow says, and I can hear the smile in her voice. “But it’s a big project. Have you thought about what it would take to actually pull it off? It isn’t exactly like setting up a lemonade stand.”

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