Page 10 of Hunted Omega: Part Two

I take a deep breath, steeling myself. “Willow, I wanted to follow up on our previous conversation about security services.”

There’s a pause on the other end, then Willow’s voice comes through, sharp and clear. “Malachi, I appreciate your offer, but understand this—if this is some ploy to get to Aria, I’ll shut it down faster than you can say alpha posturing. Clear?”

I can’t help but smile at her directness. “Crystal clear, Willow. I assure you, our intentions are genuine. We want to help in whatever way we can.”

As I begin to outline our proposal, I can’t help but wonder how Aria will react when she inevitably learns of our efforts. My stomach churns, a mix of hope and dread swirling like a storm as I imagine her response to our intentions.

What if, in our desperate attempt to win Aria back, we end up destroying the very thing we’re trying to save?

The thought lingers, chilling me to my core as I end the call with Willow, the future as uncertain as ever.

4

ARIA

The shrill beepof my alarm cuts through my dreams like a chainsaw through butter. I jolt awake, my heart pounding faster than a caffeinated hummingbird. For a second, I’m lost in the sterile, unfamiliar walls of my new apartment in the Omega Guardians building, then reality crashes into me like a freight train of unwelcome memories.

Great. Another day in paradise.

I’ve faced down alphas and my own biology, so what’s one more battle in this war? Maybe I should start keeping score.

I take a deep breath, willing the panic to take a hike, before I slide out of bed. The cold floor jolts me back to reality as I shuffle to the bathroom. The mirror shows me a horror show—tired eyes, hair that looks like I’ve been electrocuted, and worry lines that could rival the Grand Canyon—but somewhere in that mess, there’s a flicker of determination. I cling to that spark like it’s the last lifeboat on the Titanic.

As I start my morning routine, panic flutters in my chest like a trapped bird. I need a solution, and fast. Preferably before I completely lose my marbles.

I’m just finishing up when there’s a knock at the door. I freeze, instinctively tensing, before I remember where I am. This building is supposed to be safe. I’m supposed to be safe.

Opening the door, I’m greeted by Sarah, my neighbor and fellow omega. Her bright smile is like a ray of sunshine cutting through my storm cloud of dread. Her scent—all sunlight and honey—washes over me. It’s almost sickeningly sweet, but hey, beggars can’t be choosers when it comes to comfort.

“Morning, Aria!” she chirps, her voice light and cheerful. “Just checking if you’re coming to the community breakfast this weekend.”

I force a smile that probably looks more like a grimace. “Thanks for the invite, Sarah. I’ll… I’ll see how work goes this week, but I appreciate it.”

Sarah nods, her smile softening into something more understanding. “No pressure. Just offering you an olive branch.”

As the door clicks shut behind her, guilt settles in my chest like a lead weight. These people are trying to include me, but I can’t shake the feeling that I’m an outsider, and that I’m taking up space I don’t really deserve. Story of my life, right?

The walk to work is a blur of noise and movement, the city pulsing around me in a relentless rhythm. I keep my head down, focusing on each step, and tell myself just to get through the day. That’s all I need to do.

The familiar scents of shampoo and hair dye greet me at the salon, a small comfort amidst the chaos of my life. I throw myself into the routine—cutting, coloring, and making small talk with clients. It’s easier to lose myself in the monotony and pretend, if only for a few hours, that everything is normal. That I’m not one sniff away from having my entire life turned upside down again.

The memory of Pack Clarke’s men linger at the edges of my mind like a persistent itch I can’t scratch—Malachi’s steady authority, Zane’s smoldering intensity, Quinn’s quirky charm,and Dash’s carefree warmth. Together, they create a perfect, maddening harmony that both terrifies and tempts me.

For a moment, I’m back in that room, surrounded by their overwhelming presence and feeling smaller than an ant at a giant’s picnic. The ghost of Zane’s accusing glare, the hurt in Quinn’s eyes, and the disappointment radiating from Malachi all come rushing back, along with the crushing weight of guilt and fear.

“Everything okay, Aria?” Jen, my coworker, peers at me, her brow furrowed in concern.

I plaster on my besteverything’s finesmile. “Yeah, just zoned out for a sec. Late night, you know?” The lie slips out easier than it should. I’m getting too good at this.

The rest of the day passes in a blur, each appointment a thin barrier between me and the thoughts I’m trying to keep at bay. By the time my shift ends, I’m exhausted but proud. I made it through without letting fear win. Small victories, right? I’ll take what I can get.

As I gather my things to leave, a sudden, aching loneliness settles in. Work interactions, as familiar as they are, only scratch the surface. I need real company, the kind that doesn’t feel like a chore. I need my friends. I need to feel normal again, even if it’s just for one night.

Me: Meet at the Rusty Anchor at 8? First round’s on me.

Ginger: Count me in! I’ll bring the tequila.

Back at my apartment, I kick off my shoes and rummage through my closet, tossing aside options that feel wrong. Too formal, too casual, too much effort for the night I want. I finally settle on ripped jeans and a loose, off the shoulder sweater that hugs just right. It’s comfortable but cute enough for wherever the evening takes us—not that I’m trying to impress anyone. Nope. Not me.

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