Page 31 of Hunted Omega: Part Two

Reality tugs me back like a bungee cord at its limit. “Not really,” I confess sheepishly. “I guess I got caught up in the dream. You know me—head in the clouds, my feet occasionally remembering they are supposed to be on the ground.”

“Dreams are important,” Willow assures me, “but so is being prepared. Why don’t you start with some research? Figure out what it would actually take to make this happen. You know, boring adult stuff like budgets and business plans.”

I nod, even though she can’t see me. “You’re right. I should start with research.” My eyes drift to my laptop on the coffee table. “Actually, I think I’ll dive in now. Thanks, Willow. You always know how to talk me down from the ledge. You’re like a therapist, but with better jokes and low hourly rates.”

“Anytime, Aria. Just… be careful, okay? And keep me updated. I want front row seats to the Aria show, whether it’s a blockbuster or a beautiful disaster.”

After we hang up, I settle onto my couch with my laptop. The glow of the screen lights up my face as I dive into the world of business plans, licensing requirements, and start-up costs. Hours pass in a blur as I scribble notes, bookmark pages, and slowly begin to shape my dream into something that could actually work.

With every new piece of information, doubt creeps in like a stealthy ninja. Can I really do this? And if I do, can I trust Quinn to be a part of it? What if this whole idea backfires? I imagine thedisappointment on Aunt Sara’s face if I fail and the smug looks from those who never believed in me.

I glance at my phone, Quinn’s number still on the screen. I could call him and share my excitement, my doubts, but the words stick in my throat like peanut butter.

My fingers hover over the screen, and I take a deep breath. The scent of orange finally calms me as I start typing.

Me: Quinn, we need to talk about the salon idea. Meet me at the coffee shop on 5th, ten tomorrow morning. Bring you’re a game and maybe some aspirin for my inevitable headache.

I hit send before I can talk myself out of it, then I toss the phone onto my bed like it’s a hot potato made of lava. My heart races as I wait for a response, not sure if I want one or not.

The phone buzzes almost instantly. I snatch it up, my stomach flipping like an Olympic gymnast as I read.

Quinn: Absolutely! I’m all ears and maybe a bit of nose too. Can’t wait to hear your thoughts! Should I bring pom-poms to cheer for your ideas?

I can practically hear Dash joking that he’ll be our first customer if we offer beer with haircuts. Well, he would have. Now, it’ll be coffee. And Zane? He’d just brood in the corner, pretending not to care while secretly checking the place out like a health inspector with trust issues. Malachi would probably insist on doing a full security assessment before we even opened the doors, as if we were guarding nuclear codes instead of hair products.

I stare at Quinn’s response, a mix of excitement and anxiety rolling through me like a tidal wave of emotions. This is real. I’m really considering this. Holy shit, what have I gotten myself into?

A knock on my door snaps me out of my thoughts. I open it to find Cayenne, her fiery hair as wild as her grin, looking likeshe just stepped out of a shampoo commercial for Fierce and Fabulous.

“Hey, bestie,” she says, walking in like she owns the place. “I brought wine and gossip, but it looks like you have news of your own.” She nods toward the sketches spread across my desk. “Either you’ve taken up abstract art, or you’re planning world domination. Please tell me it’s the latter.”

I hesitate, but then I spill. Cayenne listens, her eyes widening as I explain Quinn’s proposal and my own ideas.

“Holy shit, Aria,” she says when I’m done. “This is… big. Are you sure you’re ready for this? With Quinn of all people? I mean, I know he has those puppy dog eyes, but remember, even cute puppies can pee on the carpet.”

I sink onto my bed. “I don’t know,” I admit. “But it feels right, you know? Like something I’ve been waiting for without even realizing it. Like finding the perfect pair of jeans, but for my soul.”

Cayenne nods, her expression softening. “I get it, and hey, if anyone can make this work, it’s you. Just… be careful, okay? And remember, I’m here if you need me, even if it’s just to hide a body. I know a guy who could help with the business plan. Let me make some calls. I have connections shadier than a forest at midnight.”

I laugh, feeling some of the tension slip away. “Thanks, Cay. I’ll keep that in mind. You’re like my personal mafia, but with better hair and less concrete shoes.”

After Cayenne leaves, I curl up on my bed, hugging a pillow tightly. Sleep feels impossible, but I know I need to try. Tomorrow could change everything, and I need to be ready. Ready for what, I’m not sure. Maybe greatness, maybe disaster, but probably both.

As I drift off, I can almost smell the shampoo and hair spray, hear the hum of blow-dryers, and feel the warmth of acommunity finding a safe space. The dream feels so real, so close, that I can almost touch it. It’s like the best smelling, most empowering mirage ever.

Then, like a cold splash of water, doubt creeps in. What if this is all a mistake? What if I’m setting myself up for heartbreak… or worse? The memory of past betrayals, of thinking I could trust only to be let down, looms like a shadow. It’s like my brain decided to throw agreatest hits of your worstmomentsparty.

I shake my head, pushing the doubts away. No. I can’t let fear control me anymore. Tomorrow’s a wild card, but here’s the deal—I’m grabbing the wheel of my own life, no back seat drivers allowed. It’s time to take a chance and reach for something amazing, and if it all goes wrong? At least I’ll have tried. That’s more than I could say a few months ago when my greatest ambition was finding the perfect hiding spot from alphas.

This omega’s ready to show the world what she’s made of, even if my knees are shaking a little. Bring it on, universe. I have dreams, I have determination, and I have a secret weapon—the ability to make alphas question their life choices with just one raised eyebrow. Let’s do this.

16

MALACHI

My leather chaircreaks as I lean back, a sound that cuts through the heavy silence in my office. Outside, the sky bleeds from orange to purple, and shadows creep across the tense faces of my pack. The scent of their anxiety mingles with the bitter dregs of my cold coffee, creating a mix of unease that settles deep in my chest.

“Alright,” I start, keeping my voice low and steady to ground myself—and them. “We need to finalize our approach with Aria. Quinn, you said you ran into her?”

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