Page 36 of Storm
He escortsme back to my room, watching as I step inside. Just before he closes the door, I turn to face him. "I really didn't know what would happen," I say, not sure why I care what he believes. "I wasn't trying to start a rebellion. I was just trying to get back to Rook."
Something flickers in Reed's eyes, but before I can decipher it, he speaks. "Get some sleep, Storm. Tomorrow's going to be a long day."
"Yeah, being held hostage really takes it out of a girl," I quip, but my heart isn't in it anymore.
The door closes with a soft click. The lock engaging. I stand there for a long moment, staring at the barrier between me and freedom, the weight of reality crushing down on me.
I fucked up. Badly. And now Rook is in danger because of it.
I move to the window, staring out at the city lights spread below like stars fallen to earth. Somewhere out there, Rook is looking for me, probably putting himself at risk. The thought makes me sick with worry.
I need to find a way out of this mess. Not by running. That's too dangerous now, for both of us. I need a different approach.
Jonathan doesn't want me here. Reed certainly doesn't. Even I don't want to be here. There has to be a solution that satisfies everyone. A way to release me from this claim without making Jonathan look weak, without endangering Rook.
I pace the room, mind racing. Jonathan is the key. If I can convince him to let me go, to find some politically acceptable way to release his pack’s claim.
I curl up on the bed, not to sleep but to think, to plan. I've made a terrible mistake, but I refuse to accept that this is the end. There's always a way out. Always an angle. Always a solution.
I just have to be smart enough to find it. And I am one thing above all else, a survivor. Always have been, always will be.
Chapter12
Storm
Idon't remember falling asleep, but I must have at some point. My dreams are filled with Rook—his smile, his scent of strawberries and cream, his arms around me as we run through darkened streets toward freedom. In my dream, we're almost there, our fingers just brushing as we reach for each other across an ever-widening gap...
The sound of raised voices yanks me violently from sleep. Shouting male voices. And they are angry.
I sit up, momentarily disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings, before reality crashes back. Right. The penthouse. My luxurious prison. My massive mistake.
The voices grow louder, carrying easily through the door of my room. I slide off the bed. Moving silently toward the door, I press my ear against it, straining to hear.
"This is unacceptable, Jonathan." The voice is deep, commanding, cold as ice. "You've compromised everything we've built."
"The Governor called me personally this morning," another voice adds, this one smoother but no less authoritative. "Do you have any idea what the press is saying? What the public is thinking?"
I pull back from the door, my mind racing. These aren't just any visitors. These are Jonathan's fathers. The three alphas of the Kingsley dynasty. I've never met them, but their reputation I know. Three of the most powerful alphas in Crescent City, each controlling a different part of government.
And they're pissed.
Curiosity overrides caution, and I find myself picking the lock again with my trusty bra’s underwire. The mechanism gives with a soft click, and I ease the door open just enough to peer through the crack.
The scene in the living room makes me freeze. Jonathan stands rigid, his back ramrod straight, facing three older alphas who radiate power and authority in waves that reach me even at this distance. Reed is there too, slightly off to the side, his expression carefully neutral but his body tense.
"I've handled it," Jonathan says, his voice controlled but with an edge I've never heard before. I notice a tightness in his shoulders, a slight clenching of his fists at his sides—small tells that would be invisible to anyone who hadn't spent four years watching him.
"Contained?" The tallest of the three alpha fathers barks out a laugh, the sound devoid of any humor. He's dressed in a military-style suit, his eyes cold and calculating as they bore into Jonathan. "The entire city is in chaos. Beta-born alphas are rioting in the streets. The Governor is demanding answers. And our contacts at the press can only hold the wolves at bay for so long."
I lean forward slightly, trying to get a better view. The three fathers are all impeccably dressed in suits. Their ties alone probably cost more than everything I've ever owned combined. The power dynamics are clear even to me. Jonathan may be an alpha, may be the head of the Omega House, may be feared throughout Crescent City, but here, in front of these men, he's weakened.
"You and Alexander were already a scandal, forming a pack with Reed Howard," says the second father, his voice dripping with disdain as he gestures toward Reed. This one moves differently, smoother, more controlled, with the polished sheen of a politician. His suit is less severe than the first father's, his silver hair perfectly styled. "We allowed it because it suited our purposes. But this? Claiming an omega from your own lottery? And a beta-born one at that. Even for a Kingsley, that crosses a line."
Reed's jaw tightens slightly at the mention of his name, but he remains silent, a shadow at the edge of the confrontation.
"I didn't put our name in that lottery," Jonathan says, his jaw tight. His eyes briefly flick toward Reed, a silent exchange of something I can't decipher. "Someone else did. To trigger exactly this reaction."
The third father, who's been silent until now, steps forward. Unlike the other two, who radiate rage. His movements are unhurried, almost lazy, but his eyes miss nothing. "Then find who did it and make an example of them. Publicly."
