Page 57 of Storm
I sit at the table, knees pulled to my chest and chin resting on them, watching as the rest of them settle in. The seating arrangement feels deliberate—Jonathan at the head of the table, Reed to his right, Alexander to his left, then me beside Alexander, and Frankie beside me.
Frankie's noticeably tense, his shoulders hunched like he's trying to make himself smaller, his eyes darting nervously between the alphas as they pass containers back and forth. I hate seeing him this way, like he's afraid to breathe too loudly.
I peer into the open containers nearest me, trying to identify their contents without making it obvious that I'm clueless. I recognize rice, obviously, and something that looks like chicken with vegetables. But the rest? No idea. Growing up in the foster system meant food was basic at best—pasta, hamburger helper, the occasional frozen pizza when Mrs. Jennings splurged. And the Omega House? The same bland, nutritionally balanced meals day after day, not Chinese, nothing interesting.
"Here," Jonathan says, holding out a container toward me. "Do you want the kung pao chicken?"
I stare at the container, not wanting to admit I have no clue what "kung pao chicken" is. Is it spicy? Sweet? Will I make a fool of myself trying to eat it?
"I'm good," I shrug, trying to sound casual as I pick at the rice already on my plate.
Jonathan's eyes narrow slightly, a flicker of confusion passing over his face before he turns to offer it to Frankie instead.
Alexander watches this exchange with unusual interest, his sharp green eyes missing nothing. He leans closer to me, his voice low enough that only I can hear.
"Chicken with the little red peppers," he clarifies, nodding at my hesitation. "It's pretty spicy. I prefer the sweet and sour pork myself, the one with the pineapple. Or the beef and broccoli; it has those thick slices of carrots that soak up all the sauce. The sauce is mild but sweet, which is my favorite."
The subtle way he describes the dishes sends relief washing through me. He noticed. And instead of calling me out, he's helping.
"I'll try that one," I say, pointing to the beef dish he just described.
Alexander smiles and passes it to me. "Good choice."
I take a tentative bite and find that he's right—the sauce is mild with a sweet undertone, nothing overwhelming. It's actually delicious.
"Good?" Alexander asks, his expression warm with something that might be understanding.
I nod, taking another bite with more enthusiasm. "Really good."
"I had a feeling you'd like it," he says with a conspiratorial wink.
Across the table, Reed's eyes track this interaction, his stormy gaze unreadable. Jonathan seems tense, his jaw working as he chews, like he's grinding his food to death before swallowing.
"So, Frankie," Alexander says, turning his attention. "How long did you work at the Omega House?"
Frankie startles, nearly dropping his fork. "Um, f-four years, sir—I mean, Alex."
"The whole time Storm was there?" he asks, though I suspect he already knows the answer.
Frankie nods, his gaze flicking briefly to me before returning to his plate. "Yes. I started just a few weeks before Storm arrived."
"And you were what, sixteen?" Alexander continues casually. Something that he found out earlier during our card game.
Reed's head snaps up at that. "Sixteen? Aren't there age restrictions for working at the Omega House?"
I laugh, the sound sharp in the sudden tension. "Oh please. Like the Omega House cares about rules when it comes to betas. They're just disposable labor."
Frankie flinches slightly beside me, and I immediately regret my harsh tone.
"Sorry," I murmur to him. "I didn't mean?—"
"It's okay," he says quickly. "You're not wrong."
"Is that true?" Alexander asks, looking between Reed and Jonathan. "They hire beta teenagers to guard omegas?"
Jonathan's expression darkens. "Technically, the minimum age is eighteen. But enforcement is lax at best."
"They don't check too closely as long as you can do the job," Frankie adds quietly. "And they don't pay well enough to attract many adult betas who have better options."
