Page 18 of Hunted Omega: Part Two

Zane’s growl rumbles through the room, his alpha instincts flaring defensively. The scent of smoke and leather intensifies, filling the air with his protective anger. “What kind of repercussions?”

Dr. Reeves clears his throat, adjusting his glasses as if trying to buy himself time. “The Omega Registration Act is going into effect at the end of the month. All unregistered omegas are required to register and be matched, or there could be legal penalties. The law aims to categorize and regulate omegas for… safety and societal stability.” He hesitates, gauging our reactions before continuing. “If Aria remains unregistered, she risks fines, or worse, mandatory bonding.”

“Mandatory bonding?” Dash snaps, his voice as sharp as a knife. “Are you saying they could force her into a bond because she didn’t register? That’s insane.”

“She was furious,” Dr. Reeves admits with a strained chuckle, his voice losing some of its professional detachment. “I tried to explain that it isn’t just about the match, but about compliance with the law. All omegas will now have the last name Omega, and she… well, she didn’t take kindly to that.”

The realization slams into me like a freight train. Aria didn’t put herself in this mess, someone else did. Someone submitted her information without her consent. I can practically see the moment it clicks for Malachi and Zane too. Their scents shift to something darker tinged with anger and protectiveness. This isn’t just about a match, it’s about control, and Aria’s right in the crosshairs.

“We should go,” I say suddenly, cutting through Dr. Reeves’s explanation. The others turn to me, startled by the abruptness, and their scents spike with surprise. “Aria clearly doesn’t want to be here. We should respect that.”

Malachi’s eyes search mine, and after a moment, he nods, his scent settling into something calmer. “We have what we needed. Let’s regroup and figure out our next steps.”

We thank Dr. Reeves and leave the suffocating confines of Scent Synergy, the rush of fresh air outside a welcome relief.

The city’s hum is a sharp contrast to the stifling silence of the conference room, but it does little to lift the tension still clinging to us. The mix of scents—car exhaust, street food, and countless strangers—is almost overwhelming after the sterile environment we just left.

“So what now?” Dash asks, running a hand through his hair, his frustration simmering just below the surface. His scent is sharp, tinged with a bitterness that’s so unlike him.

Zane resumes pacing, his agitation building with every step. Waves of his smoky scent roll off him, making the air feel thick and heavy. “We can’t just sit back and do nothing. She’s our mate. We need to protect her, especially with these legal issues hanging over her head.”

“And how do you plan to do that?” Malachi challenges, his tone measured but firm. His cool, authoritative scent cuts through Zane’s agitation. “By forcing our way back into her life? We already made that mistake once.”

I watch them argue, my mind racing for a solution that doesn’t feel like a trap. There has to be a way to help Aria without pushing her further away.

“Let’s run a background process. Support without system overload,” I suggest, the words forming as if they are the simplest truth. The others turn to me, their expressions showing skepticism and hope. Their scents shift, curiosity overridingfrustration. I roll my eyes at them and explain in simpler terms. “We show her that we’ve learned from our mistakes through our actions.”

Malachi nods slowly, his eyes narrowing in thought. His scent softens, approval mixing with consideration. “It’s a start, but we can’t afford any more missteps. One wrong move, and we could lose her for good.”

As we part ways, each of us lost in our own thoughts, I can’t shake the image of Aria navigating this nightmare alone. The need to do something, anything, presses against my ribs like a vise. An idea takes root, uncertain but persistent. It’s risky, but if it works…

I pull out my phone and scroll through my contacts until I find the one I need. I have skills and resources. If I can’t reach out to Aria directly, then maybe I can help her from afar.

It’s time to put this big brain to use for something other than hacking and video games.

I find a secluded spot, my fingers flying over my phone as I search for a back door into Scent Synergy’s system. The challenge of breaking in sends a thrill through me, providing a welcome distraction from the heavy emotions weighing us down. I dive deeper, navigating through firewalls and security protocols, every successful bypass a small victory.

Scent Synergy’s defenses are formidable. Each layer I peel back reveals another that’s more complex than the last. It’s like trying to solve a Rubik’s cube that keeps adding new sides. My usual tricks fall flat, and I’m met with error messages and lockouts at every turn.

Frustration builds, my scent sharpening with irritation. I’m not just hacking a system, I’m digging for the truth buried beneath layers of deceit. Whoever submitted Aria’s information did so with purpose, and I’m going to find out who it was.

Unfortunately, I get kicked out at every turn. I need my computers and home office.

The thought of sitting in a room alone doesn’t have the same dopamine effect it usually does.

You know who could help…Cayenne.

Would she even answer, or does she hate me too much to care?

I dial her number anyway, my heart thudding as the line rings. When she picks up, her voice is sharp and guarded. “Quinn? What do you want?”

I take a deep breath, forcing my voice to stay steady. “Hey, Cayenne. I need a favor. I think someone put Aria’s information into Scent Synergy without her consent, and I need access to the back channels of their database to figure out who did it.”

There’s a pause, and I can almost feel her weighing whether or not to trust me. “Why should I help you?”

“Because Aria deserves to know the truth,” I say, urgency clear in my tone. “We’ve made mistakes, but this isn’t just about us. She’s caught in something she never asked for, and I want to help make it right.”

Cayenne’s silence stretches on, and I can practically hear the gears turning in her mind. When she finally speaks, her voice is softer, laced with concern and curiosity. “You really care about her, don’t you?”

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