Page 27 of Storm
"That depends on the reader," I reply, my voice dropping lower. "I need to tell you something. Something important."
He nods as his eyes dart around the room. Most omegas are off in their rooms. But none of them are paying attention to us. We do this so often, it's routine. "This copy looks interesting," he says, pulling another book from the shelf, opening it as if to examine the pages. "Come see what you think."
We stand close, the open book between us giving us cover for the cameras. To anyone watching, we're just two people discussing books. But standing this close, I can see things I normally miss—the tiny flecks of gold in his brown eyes, the faint scar above his right eyebrow, the way his pulse jumps visibly at the base of his throat. Or the way his cinnamon heats up and makes my body react in a way I know my blockers should be stopping.
"I'm running on Choosing Day," I whisper, the words barely audible even to my own ears. "I've rigged the lottery with my own ticket."
His eyes widen slightly, but his expression remains neutral. "How?" His voice is so low I barely hear it. I point into the book and he nods. Keeping up the pretence.
"I stole a blank ticket. I'm going to write 'Pack Kingsley' on it."
He can't hide his shock at that and he turns to me. The book drops by his side, all the pretence gone. "Jonathan's pack? Why would you?—"
"Because they live closest to the theater where Choosing Day is held. Just a block from 427 Crescent Avenue." I lock eyes with him, willing him to understand. "That's where I'm meeting Rook."
"Rook?" He looks genuinely confused now.
"My alpha," I explain quickly. "From before the Omega House. We grew up together in the foster system. He promised to wait for me, to help me escape after Choosing Day."
Understanding dawns in his eyes.
I reach for the book at his side and point at the words I can’t actually see as my heart races. I turn a page in the book, trying to keep up the pretence. "I'm telling you because... because maybe you could meet me there. If you wanted to." The words rush out so fast that I can barely breathe as I wait for his reply. We haven’t spoken about this thing between us before. Never thought it could be more. But is this what it's like to tell the guy you're crushing on that you like him more than friends?
He's silent for a long moment. I hold my breath, watching the emotions play across his face. His scent changes and it grows sweeter.
"427 Crescent Avenue." He whispers the address that I have chanted in my head for the past four years. And my heart skips a beat.
"Right after the ceremony. As soon as I can get away, I will be there. Rook, too." I don't mention that I have no idea how I'll actually escape Jonathan and his pack once I've pulled their name. That's a problem for future me.
Frankie's eyes search mine, worry etched into the creases around them. "What if something goes wrong? What if you can't get away?"
The question hangs between us, heavy with implications. I hadn't allowed myself to consider failure. "Then I'll find another way," I whisper, trying to sound more confident than I feel. "I always do."
"Be careful, Storm," he says, his voice barely audible. "Jonathan... he fired Gage yesterday. No warning, nothing. Just escorted him out."
So he knows. Of course he does. The beta staff probably all know by now.
"I know," I say, the words tight in my throat. "That's why you need to be careful, Frankie. I shouldn't even be telling you this. I’m worried, but I wanted to let you know. Give you the choice."
He closes the book, sliding it back onto the shelf. His fingers brush against mine as he does, lingering a moment longer than necessary. "You be careful.”
The tenderness in his voice makes my heart squeeze painfully.
I search his face, seeing a determination there that matches my own. "I'll watch for you. At the address."
He squeezes my hand with the book I hold, his palm warm against mine. For a brief moment, neither of us moves, both reluctant to break this fragile connection. I hear one of the guards laughing and we let go as if we just got burnt.
“Do you know why Harley is outside?” he asks. I nod.
“She has the way to choose… ‘make her dreams come true’. But she’s missing a name and a beta guard. She hoped they would come, but they didn’t show.”
I can see the sadness for Harley on his face. Frankie doesn’t have a poker face, and I love that about him. He’s empathic and so so sweet.
Miranda enters the room, her suspicious gaze immediately landing on us.
"See you when my dreams come true," I whisper and he gives me the smallest of nods, his eyes saying everything his voice cannot. Be careful.
As I preparefor bed that night, I run my finger over the ticket hidden beneath my mattress, "Pack Kingsley" written in my neatest handwriting. There's poetry to it, using Jonathan's own name against him. Let him feel what it's like to be forced against your will.
