Page 41 of Storm
"Alex coming back?" he asks, though I know he heard every word.
I nod. "Tomorrow. We need to find a beta before then."
Reed raises an eyebrow. "Got anyone in mind?"
I think of Storm, of the cameras in the Omega House, of the hours I spent watching her interactions. One face appears more often than the others—the shy beta guard.
"Yes," I say. "I know exactly who we need."
* * *
The Omega Housefeels different as I enter through the staff entrance. I've belonged here for the past four years, my authority unquestioned. Now the beta guards give me wary glances, the house mothers whisper as I pass. News travels fast in places like this. Everyone knows I'm no longer in charge.
I resigned officially this morning—a formality, really, since claiming Storm made my position untenable, anyway. Protocol dictates that alphas who wish to enter the lottery must resign first, a rule intended to prevent exactly the sort of scandal I'm now embroiled in.
Veronica is waiting in my former office, her expression tight with disapproval. She's been the head house mother for fifteen years, managing the day-to-day operations with cold efficiency. I've never particularly liked her, but I've respected her dedication to the rules.
"Jonathan," she says. "I didn't expect to see you back."
"Just tying up some loose ends," I reply, keeping my tone neutral as I take a seat across from her. It feels strange to be on this side of the desk. "I assume the transition to new management is going smoothly?"
"As smoothly as can be expected, given the circumstances." Her mouth thins to a disapproving line. "I must say, I was... surprised by your actions at Choosing Day. We had no record of your pack entering the lottery."
I meet her gaze directly, wanting her to ask me directly if I entered.
Veronica's eyebrows rise slightly. "How convenient."
"I don't have to explain myself to you, Veronica." My voice hardens.
"Indeed." She shuffles some papers on the desk, a pretense at busy work. "Though it does raise questions. Especially coming so soon after Miss Harley's own... questionable selection."
I had forgot that I had been questioning Harley over her seemingly known match that day. Just as my name was drawn by Storm. It’s obvious the two omegas are friends and they rigged the draw. I don’t say anything.
"Pack Bentley," Veronica says with a small, sharp smile. "They were never on our list. No ticket, no registration. Yet somehow, they were chosen. And now you. I find the coincidence rather striking, don't you?"
I feel my carefully maintained composure slip for a moment, my scent spiking with shock before I can control it. Veronica notices—her eyes narrow slightly, her smile growing more satisfied.
"Something wrong, Mr. Kingsley?" she asks, false concern dripping from her voice.
I force my expression back to neutral, though my mind is racing with thoughts.How many times has the lottery been rigged by the omegas since I’ve been in charge?
"Not at all. As I said, I'm just here to tie up loose ends."
"I'm sure," Veronica says, not bothering to hide her skepticism. "And what loose ends might those be?"
I reign in my racing thoughts, refocusing on the immediate task. "I need to reassign one of the beta guards before I officially leave."
Veronica's eyes narrow. "Which one?"
"Frankie Calloway."
Her eyebrows shoot up. "The one who's always following Storm around like a lost puppy? Why am I not surprised?" The implication is clear in her tone.
"I need a pack beta," I say simply. "He's qualified."
"I'm sure that's the only reason," Veronica says, her voice dripping with disdain. "It has nothing to do with how he looks at your omega. Or how she looks at him."
I feel a muscle tick in my jaw but maintain my composure. "Do you have objections to the reassignment?"
