Page 13 of Hunted Omega: Part Two

“Now, let’s open this bad boy, and you can tell me what’s really going on,” she says, her tone gentle but leaving no room for argument. It’s like being told to eat your vegetables by a really supportive drill sergeant.

I watch as she expertly uncorks the bottle, the pop echoing in the quiet apartment like a starting gun. The rich, burgundy liquid glugs into two glasses she somehow produced from thin air—or more likely from my kitchen cabinet. I swear, Cayenne could find wine glasses in a desert.

“I don’t even know where to start,” I admit, accepting the glass she offers. The wine’s aroma mingles with the candles’ scents, creating a cocoon of comfort around us. It’s like being wrapped in a hug made of fragrances. “Honestly, we better wait until the others get here.”

Cayenne takes a sip, her emerald eyes never leaving my face. I feel like I’m under a really caring, slightly tipsy microscope. “Start with why you look like you’ve been hit by a truck and smell like you bathed in bleach.”

I can’t help but let out a watery chuckle at her blunt assessment. Trust Cayenne to call a spade a spade, and then probably use it to mix cocktails. “Is it that obvious?”

“Honey, you’re many things, but subtle isn’t one of them,” she says with a wry smile. “Now spill.”

“Soon,” I reply as I sip. “Soon.” She isn’t happy I’m making her wait, but I’d rather not repeat myself again. It’s like ripping off a Band-Aid—I’d rather do it once and get it over with.

By the time Ginger and Willow arrive, I’ve managed to pull myself together, wiping away the last traces of tears. We settle into the nest of pillows and blankets I arranged in the living room, a cozy fortress of soft textures and comforting scents. It’s like we’re kids again, building a pillow fort to keep the monsters out, except now, the monsters are alpha drama and societal expectations. Each of us clutches a wine glass like it’s the key to survival, and maybe it is.

Ginger, ever the comedian, raises her glass high. “To Aria’s new digs! May the walls be sturdy and the neighbors hot!”

We laugh, and for a brief moment, it feels like any other girls’ night. The rich, earthy scent of Ginger’s perfume mingles with Willow’s light, floral aroma, creating a protective bubble around us. As the laughter fades, the concern in their eyes becomes impossible to ignore. It lingers, unspoken but palpable, like a cloud hanging over us—or like that one friend who won’t stop talking about their ex at a party.

Willow, always the most perceptive, breaks the silence first. Her voice is soft but firm. “Alright, Aria, spill it. We didn’t come armed with wine just to watch you brood in silence.”

I twirl the wine in my glass, the liquid catching the light as I try to find the right words. The fruity aroma of the wine wafts up. It’s like my emotions and my senses are having a boxing match, and I’m the referee. “I… I don’t even know where to start.”

“The beginning’s usually a good place,” Ginger suggests, her eyes serious.

I take a deep breath, feeling like I’m about to jump off a cliff. “Okay, here it goes. Willow, you know about the match with Pack Clarke, right?”

Willow nods, her eyes soft with concern. “I heard rumors, but I’d love to hear it from you.”

“Well, it’s true. Scent Synergy matched me with them. All of them.” I pause, waiting for the bomb to drop.

Ginger whistles low. “Damn, girl. You don’t do anything by halves, do you?”

I can’t help but let out a bitter laugh. “Trust me, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind for my love life. It’s like I’m on a roller coaster I never bought a ticket for, and the safety bar is loose.”

Cayenne leans in, her eyes fierce. “How are you feeling about it? Really?”

The words start pouring out of me like a flood. “I’m terrified. I feel like I’m losing control of my life. This mate bond… It’s confusing as hell. I didn’t ask for it, and I don’t want it, but there’s this… pull.” I run a hand through my hair, frustration evident in every movement. “And don’t even get me started on the independence thing. I’ve worked so hard to build my life and be my own person. What if this takes that away from me?”

Willow reaches out, placing a comforting hand on my knee. “Aria, a mate bond doesn’t have to mean losing yourself.”

“Doesn’t it though?” I counter, my voice cracking. “You’ve seen what happens to some omegas when they mate. It’s like they disappear into their alpha’s shadow.”

Ginger’s voice cuts through, sharp and determined. “That’s not going to happen to you. We won’t let it.”

I look around at my friends, seeing the fierce protectiveness in their eyes. It’s both comforting and overwhelming. “I just… I don’t know how to handle this. Pack Clarke are not bad guys, not really, but the way they reacted when they found out I was an omega… It hurt, and now this match… It’s like the universe is playing some sick joke on me.”

Cayenne squeezes my hand. “The universe might be a jokester, but we’re your ace in the hole. We’ve got your back, no matter what.”

I nod, feeling raw and exposed, but also strangely lighter. “Thanks, guys. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Willow leans back, her expression thoughtful. “Okay, so we know the situation. Now, let’s figure out how to tackle it. You have options, Aria. More than you think.”

“I just… I feel like I’m losing control of my life,” I finish, wiping at tears I hadn’t even realized were falling. The salty scent of my distress hangs heavily in the air, a bitter counterpoint to the comforting aromas of candles and wine. Drawing from a well of strength I didn’t know I had, I add, “I may be an omega, but I’m not some damsel in distress. If Pack Clarke thinks they can just waltz into my life, they have another thing coming.”

Cayenne squeezes my hand, her grip firm and reassuring. “Aria, you are the strongest person I know. No mate bond or pack of alphas can take away who you are unless you let them.”

Ginger nods vigorously, her eyes flashing with protective fire. “Hell yeah, she’s right, and if they try anything, we’ll kick their alpha asses back to the Stone Age.”

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