Page 9 of Storm
My hands curl into fists. "My body, my choice."
"Not anymore." She stands, smoothing her white coat. "Not since you presented as an omega."
The words hit like a physical blow. I've lost control of even this—my own body.
"The new alphas who will be running this house will be visiting tomorrow to introduce themselves," she continues, watching my reaction carefully. "Your scent needs to be under control by then. If you refuse the medication, they'll have no choice but to use their alpha bark to ensure compliance."
Alpha bark.Fuck.
My breath catches in my throat. The memory of the last alpha bark is still fresh in my mind—the weight of it pressing down on me, forcing my body to obey against my will. It was the most violating feeling I've ever experienced.
"Fuck you," I whisper, but there's no real fire behind it. Just exhaustion.
"Some blockers will be brought with your dinner," Dr. Winters says, ignoring my comment. "I suggest you take it voluntarily."
As she turns to leave, something occurs to me. "Wait, new alphas? What happened to the old ones?"
Dr. Winters stops at the door and says, "There's a management change. This occurs when the pack prepares to join the lottery. They can't remain working here since it's against the lottery's rules. Typically, we experience a change every couple of years. You'll likely witness at least two more alpha packs during your time here."
My time here, until Choosing Day.
* * *
Night falls slowlyon the Omega House. Lights out at ten, followed by hourly patrols until midnight, then every two hours after that. But I won’t be here for that. I will be long gone and in Rook’s arms.
I lie fully clothed under my blanket, Rook's hoodie providing what little comfort I can find. The protein bars and money are wrapped in a t-shirt at the bottom of my backpack.
At 8:55 PM, I slip from my bed and press my ear to the door. The hallway is silent. I ease the door open, sling my backpack over my shoulder and move silently down the corridor, keeping to the shadows. The beta guards in the main rec room are all standing around chatting while some of the other omegas are still playing games or watching TV. Some lights are now off, as the evening is drawing to an end. Right on schedule. I hear one of the guards laughing and look over to see them all interested in what he has to say.
I should laugh at how easy this is. I quickly make my way across the room in the darkness, no one paying attention now I have the blockers in my system. Yeah, as much as I didn’t want them, I also didn’t want to be out there without them. There’s no way I would make it to Rook smelling like a tasty omega to all the alphas out there.
I push open the door to the garden slowly, wincing at the slight creak of its hinges. The cool night air hits my face like freedom. I stand still for a moment, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness, scanning the grounds for movement. Nothing. Just the shadowy outlines of trees and the garden.
I move quickly but carefully, keeping low, sticking to the patches of darkness between the security lights. My heart pounds so loud I'm certain someone will hear it.
The place I’m looking for looms ahead, and I duck under the tree, feeling along the fence for the rusted section. My fingers find the weakness and I pull it, creating a gap just wide enough for a small person to squeeze through.
Like a 5'2" omega who's lost too much weight.
I drop to my stomach and push my backpack through first, then wiggle through the gap. The metal catches on my hoodie, and for one terrifying moment I think I'm stuck. I pull harder, feeling threads tear, but I keep going. Freedom is on the other side.
Until a large, warm hand wraps around my ankle and hauls me back. I yelp before I can stop myself, my hands scraping against the dirt as I'm dragged backward. The hand on my ankle is like an iron shackle. Alpha.Fuck.
"Let me go!" I hiss, kicking out with my free leg. My foot connects with something solid, and I hear a grunt, but the grip doesn't loosen.
I’m flipped over and my eyes adjust to the dim light. His green eyes are almost black in the darkness, but I'd recognize that face anywhere—the sharp jawline, the perfect aristocratic features that scream old money and pure alpha bloodlines.
Jonathan Kingsley. Elite among elites.
"Little Beta," he says, his voice a low rumble that I feel in my chest.
I try to kick him again, but he shifts his weight, pinning both my legs with his hands. His scent envelops me in smoky cedar and sharp black pepper. It's powerful and dominant, filling my nostrils and making it hard for me to focus or think clearly. Damn omega biology.
"Get off me," I snarl, baring my teeth. "You have no right to touch me."
He tilts his head, studying me with those penetrating eyes. "I have every right. I run the Omega House."
My stomach plummets. "You're the new alphas?" I whisper, the words escaping before I can stop them.
