Page 38 of Hunted Omega: Part Two

Malachi nods, his stance widening slightly. “We’re committed to keeping her safe. Anything you need, we’re on it.”

I watch the exchange, feeling a strange mix of gratitude and unease. This collaboration between Omega Guardians and the pack is new territory, and I’m not sure how to navigate it.

As Willow leads me inside, I glance back at the pack, taking in Quinn’s encouraging smile, Malachi’s seriousness, Zane’s intense focus, and Dash’s protective stance. For the first time, I consider the possibility that maybe, just maybe, they really do have my back. As I watch the pack interact with Willow, coordinating my protection, I feel a strange ache in my chest. They were all here for me, risking everything. How could I keep holding them at arm’s length?

Maybe letting others in doesn’t always mean losing myself.

“Aria.” Zane rushes up to the door, his voice low and urgent. I admit my whole body buzzes as he calls my name. “Let’s train again.”

“As in…” I trail off, surprised by his sudden request.

“Tomorrow morning, you and me.” He releases a long breath, his intense gaze softening slightly. “Let me teach you again. Please. Training isn’t just about physical strength, Aria. It’s about understanding the shadows within yourself and learning to harness them.”

All I can do is nod, a mix of anticipation and nervousness fluttering in my stomach. The intensity in Zane’s eyes stirs something in me—a mixture of anticipation and nervousness that has nothing to do with the training itself.

“Get some rest,” Willow says as she shows me to a quiet room. The space is simple but comforting, with soft lighting and a faint scent of lavender in the air. “We’ll talk more in the morning.”

I nod, sinking onto the bed as exhaustion pulls at me. The events of the day replay in my mind, the fear still sharp but tempered now by the sense that I’m not alone. The soft sheetsand the weight of the blanket provide a cocoon of safety, however temporary.

As I close my eyes, I overhear the pack talking in the hallway, their voices low but determined. Words like “round-the-clock protection” and “every resource” filter through the door, and the weight of what’s ahead settles over me.

Suddenly, I hear Dash’s voice rise, his frustration evident. “We can’t just keep her locked up here. What if there’s a breach? We need a backup plan.”

“Omega Guardians is the safest place for her right now,” Malachi responds, his tone firm but understanding.

“But is it really?” Quinn interjects, his voice uncharacteristically serious. “Noah got past us. Who’s to say he can’t infiltrate here too?”

Their words send a chill down my spine, but also ignite a spark of determination. They are right. I can’t just rely on others to keep me safe. I need to be ready for anything.

Tomorrow, I’ll have to figure out how to move forward, how to work with the pack, and how to confront the threat Noah poses, but for now, I’ll rest, holding onto the faint, flickering hope that maybe, this time, things will be different.

As sleep begins to claim me, one last thought drifts through my mind—no more escape routes for me. I’m planting my feet and facing this head-on.

The real test isn’t facing Noah, though, it’s trusting those who want to help while never forgetting that, in the end, I’m my own best defense. Come morning, I will rewrite this whole damn script.

19

ARIA

The sun is barely upwhen I step into the Omega Guardians dojo, the soft light spilling through the high windows bathing the room in a muted glow. The familiar scent of leather and sweat wraps around me like a tight coat—comforting and claustrophobic all at once.

I take in the space. Mirrors line one wall, all the training equipment is neatly arranged, and the soft blue mats beneath my feet absorb the sound of my footsteps. It’s a place meant for action, but right now, it feels like the silence is pressing in from all sides.

Zane’s already here, standing in the middle of the mat, his frame silhouetted by the pale morning light. He looks different—his posture relaxed and shoulders slumped in a way that makes him seem smaller and less alpha-like. Gone is the cocky, self-assured stance I remember. He looks open and almost vulnerable. It catches me off guard, and I hesitate for a second.

“Aria,” he says, his voice low and unsteady. “Thanks for coming.”

I nod, biting back the retort that sits on my tongue. There’s a lot I want to say, but words feel too sharp right now. We move to the center of the mat, circling each other slowly, the tensionbetween us electric. The soft squeak of our feet on the mat seems unnaturally loud in the quiet room.

“You ready?” Zane asks, raising his hands in a loose defensive stance.

Instead of answering, I lunge, throwing a quick jab at his midsection. He blocks easily, the sharp smack of skin on skin echoing in the dojo, but he doesn’t counterattack. He takes another step back, his stance wide and open, waiting for me.

This dance continues. I attack, and he defends, never striking back. Frustration builds with each missed opportunity to land a real hit, and resentment simmers just beneath my skin. The air grows thick with the scent of our sweat and the lingering traces of Zane’s alpha pheromones, a potent mix that makes my head spin.

“Fight back,” I snap, landing a punch to his shoulder that forces him to step back. The dull thud of the impact vibrates through my arm, satisfying but not enough.

Zane just shakes his head, calmness in his eyes that only stokes the fire in my chest. “I’m not here to fight you, Aria. I’m here to protect you.”

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