Page 13 of Storm
“Did you do it?” she asks, her gaze flicking to the camera as if to remind me that she knows I’m always watching. Her uncertainty clings to the air, buzzing between us like static.. She looks wild, untamed, and her scent—usually sweet—has turned bitter.
“I did,” I tell her, keeping my voice steady, controlled. “Rook is no longer welcome in The Pit. I can’t stop him from fighting elsewhere. But he won't ever fight there again. I made sure of it.”
A lot of money changed hands to make that happen. A hell of a lot. I told myself it’s because I need her compliance here at the Omega House while I look for Fox, but I know that’s not the truth.
The memory of that deal is still fresh. It took all the power plays I've learned from being a Kingsley and then some. And it drained more than just my finances. The Pits don’t give up fighters like him easily, not without a price that leaves a mark and none of it landed in Rook's hands.
I paid a four-year lease on a small apartment near the last foster home he stayed at with Storm. He received it when they set him free, was told he had done a good job, and this was his reward. He has no idea who was behind it. And I will forever keep it that way.
She shifts her weight on her feet, and I can smell her scent changing. Not sweet but has less of the bitter taste on the wind. Something in me stirs when I see her reaction, a protective instinct I don't understand. I push it aside.
“Do you have proof?” she fires back, her voice laced with suspicion. Storm’s eyes narrow, and I can’t blame her for asking. Deep down, I’d ask the same if our roles were reversed.
“Yes.” I pull my phone from my pocket and flick to a photo from the investigator I hired to make sure the deal was complete. I turn the screen to her, and she takes a step forward, her eyes focusing on the image.
When she bites her lower lip in concentration, I feel a strange tightness in my chest that I refuse to acknowledge. It's just the omega scent affecting me, I tell myself. Nothing specific to Storm. Just biology, instinct. Nothing more. I look away as the silence stretches.
“How do I know you’re not lying? Or that this is a fake photo.” Her words come fast now, fueled by doubt, each one hitting harder than the last. She looks away from me, as if the lights in the garden suddenly need her full attention.
“You’ll have to trust me, Storm.” At the sound of her name, her eyes snap to me. Her pupils are dilated, her eyebrows furrowed in uncertainty.
“Do you have any idea how much he means to me?” Her breath hitches, like she’s said more than she meant to, like she’s given away a piece of something she’s kept close. It shifts the air between us.
“I know.” My voice comes out low and rough, a growl that betrays my thoughts.She’s not mine.I don’t care about this omega—more lies, I tell myself. I glance away, hoping she won’t see how she affects me. There's something about her that sets her apart from the other omegas - a defiance that shouldn't intrigue me, but does. When I look back, Storm is watching me like a hawk, and I swear I see a flicker of something. My chest rumbles in warning. My alpha, close to the edge.
She bares her teeth when she’s cornered and I can’t decide if she means it as a challenge or if she’s trying to protect herself. It twists something in me all the same, stirring instincts that I don’t want to acknowledge. I find myself drawn to her spirit, her defiance. It's dangerous territory, and I know it. It’s a reminder of how dangerous this game is, how easily Storm can unravel me if I’m not careful. I find myself stepping closer, curious about the way she stands her ground when everyone else here falls in line.
Her eyes follow me, every step of the way, but she doesn’t back down, doesn’t try to run.
Then my phone rings, snapping me from the moment, a jarring intrusion into the singular focus I had on her.Fuck. I take a deep breath, trying to clear my head and focus on what matters as I glance down at the phone in my hand. Reed’s name flashes on the screen, and it feels like the world tilts, shifting everything. My entire focus changed in an instant.
“Talk,” I say as I answer, my voice raw.
“I found him.” Reed's tone is controlled, but I can hear the urgency beneath it. My fingers tighten around the phone, the smooth surface feeling cold against my skin as I try to steady my heart.
“I found Fox.”
Chapter5
Storm
Four Years Later
I lay sprawledacross my bed, the sheets barely covering me as my fingers slide expertly over my slick clit. My free hand clutching the fabric beneath me, knuckles white with the intensity of the pressure I’m building inside myself. Every stroke sends a jolt through me, each one making the world blur at the edges until the only thing that’s real is the heat and the friction and the humiliating thrill of it all.
Each morning since I turned eighteen, this is how I start my day. An act of rebellion that has become routine. At first, making myself come was about proving a point. Showing that alpha asshole Jonathan that he couldn’t control my body, no matter how much they tried.
But then something changed. It started to become more. I felt it deep, a dark little seed that took root and grew in the depths of me. Imagining his piercing green eyes watching me from the camera in my room only made me hotter.
Each moan past my lips, taunting, daring him to come to me it stoked a fire. I arch my back, fingers working faster as I chase my release. The dark chocolate notes of my omega scent thicken in the air. Let the cameras see. Let Jonathan watch if he's still monitoring me after all this time. With one name always on my lips.
"Rook," I whisper as I come.
The pleasure crests and fades, leaving me panting in the tangled sheets. For a few precious moments, the emptiness recedes. Then reality crashes back—I'm still here. Still trapped. Four years gone.
I push myself up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. My reflection in the mirror catches my eye—I'm no longer the half-starved girl who arrived here. My curves have filled out. My wild auburn curls are tamer, but still frame my face with defiant wisps. My skin glows with a health that doesn’t match the prison I’m trapped in.
Four years in this place has changed me physically. But inside, I'm still the same Storm who first walked through these doors—just with better survival skills and a deeper pit of rage.
