Page 62 of Hunted Omega: Part Two

Ginger nods, adjusting her purse strap with a grin. “And if any of those alphas forget how lucky they are, we’ll remind them loudly.”

Willow squeezes my hand one last time before stepping back. “Aria, you’re like that succulent, resilient as hell, and we’re your sunshine and water, always here to help you grow.”

I feel my throat tighten, emotions clawing their way up, but I force a smile. “You guys are like my personal pack of misfit superheroes. Seriously, what would I do without your chaos?”

Cayenne smirks, giving me a playful shove. “Oh, you’d probably be fine. Just way less fabulous without us.”

We all laugh, and it feels good, like maybe things aren’t as impossible as they seem. As they start to gather their things, Cayenne shoots me one last look, waggling her finger. “But seriously, call if you need us, even if it’s just to complain about Dash’s ridiculous hair or Malachi’s brooding.”

Ginger snorts, shaking her head. “Or Zane’s perpetualI’m too cool to careface.”

“And Quinn’s… everything,” Willow adds, a knowing smile on her lips.

I roll my eyes but can’t help the laugh that escapes. “I promise I’ll call. Thanks for… well, for everything.”

They each give me one last hug before heading to the door, filling my small apartment with the comforting noise of friendship. As the door clicks shut behind them, the silence settles back in, but it doesn’t feel as heavy as before. Their warmth lingers, a quiet reassurance that no matter what happens next, I won’t face it alone.

I lean against the door, inhaling the lingering mix of cinnamon, ginger, and lavender. It’s like a promise—soft, steady, and unwavering. I’m stronger than my fears, and maybe I’m brave enough to let these alphas in.

I sink onto the couch, staring at our makeshift pros and cons list. My eyes linger on one line—chance for true happiness and belonging.

I trace the words with my finger, my heart racing. There’s a part of me that craves that connection and sense of belonging, but am I brave enough to risk my heart again?

As I get ready for bed, my mind wanders back to the pack. Their scents linger in my memory—Malachi’s cedarwood and amber, Quinn’s soothing lavender and bergamot, Zane’s intense leather and sandalwood, and Dash’s invigorating citrus and ocean breeze. I close my eyes, imagining what it would be like to fully embrace those scents and let myself be part of something bigger than my fears. The thought sends a shiver down my spine, equal parts excitement and terror.

The soft glow of my bedside lamp casts shadows across the room as I curl up under the covers. Tomorrow, I’ll call and set up an appointment with a therapist. It’s time to face these fears and dig deeper.

My gaze falls on the small potted succulent, bathed in moonlight on my nightstand. As I drift off, the scents of the pack swirl in my mind—a tempting promise of belonging and a terrifying risk of losing myself all over again.

Maybe, though, I’m finally strong enough to take that leap.

28

ARIA

I standin front of my bedroom mirror, smoothing down my simple cotton dress for the hundredth time. The soft fabric catches on my calloused fingertips. The scent of orange creamsicle—my anxious pheromones—fills the air, mingling with the lavender candles I lit earlier. Their flickering light casts dancing shadows on the walls, creating an atmosphere that’s both intimate and slightly unsettling.

My heart races as I glance at the clock, its soft ticking a counterpoint to my rapid pulse. Zane will be here any minute. I take a deep breath and square my shoulders. I’m not the same frightened omega I used to be. I can do this.

Also, I have no idea what this is. Is he here to take me out? Did he have something to tell me?

Or… Or is this a booty call and am I okay with that?

Slick leaks from my core, telling me all I need to know about whatshethinks of it.

As if summoned by my thoughts, there’s a gentle knock at the door. The sound echoes in my small apartment, making me jump. I stride to the door, my movements more confident than I feel, and open it.

Zane stands there, his intense blue eyes softening as they meet mine. The familiar scent of leather and sandalwood washes over me, simultaneously comforting and thrilling. It reminds me of safety and danger simultaneously, much like Zane himself.

“Hey,” I say, my voice steady despite my nerves.

“Aria,” Zane replies, his lips curving into a small smile. His deep voice sends a shiver down my spine. “You look… radiant.”

I feel my cheeks warm at the compliment. “Thanks. Come in?”

As Zane passes, his arm brushes against mine, and I feel a jolt of electricity at the contact. I close the door, leaning against it momentarily to gather my thoughts.

When I turn, Zane is standing in the middle of my living room, his eyes roaming over the space. I see it anew through his gaze—the overstuffed bookshelf, the throw blanket draped haphazardly over the couch, and the small potted succulent on the windowsill. They are all pieces of the life I built since coming to Puritan City, fragile but growing stronger every day.

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