32. Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Two
Adrian
I lean against the counter, watching Zane pull ridiculous faces while our omega photographs him. His antics are exactly what she needs right now. Darkness crept into her eyes earlier, before she caught herself. Her words: “When I was younger, before I went to...” hung in the air, unfinished, and it took everything in me not to press for more.
Her scent soured before she caught herself and locked the darkness away behind that careful mask she wears. I force myself to wait. When she finally tells us about her past it will be because she trusts us, not because we pushed. That truth will be all the more precious for being freely given.
Even if she never tells us, I’ll do what I can to kill her demons.
She lowers the phone, giggling at Zane's crossed eyes and exaggerated pout, and my heart clenches at the sound. These moments of pure joy are so rare with her. Her sugared scent blooms with genuine happiness, and I want to bottle this moment, to keep her this carefree forever.
“Could I...” she starts, then bites her lip in that way that makes my alpha want to soothe her. “Would it be okay if I went around the penthouse? To take some still lifes?” The way she asks permission for such a simple thing makes my chest ache. She's such a contradiction, shy yet unknowingly seductive, traumatized yet somehow maintaining an innocence. The way she looks up through her lashes, both hopeful and prepared for rejection, stirs something protective inside me.
My head spins with what Cole and Zane told me earlier about her death certificate, signed by Mercer. Miranda Jensen, declared deceased alongside her parents in a fatal car accident.
Cole checked her parent’s death notices. They did pass in that accident. It’s black and white in the public records. So why did Mercer sign Mira’s death certificate when this omega is very much alive? The questions churn in my gut, making my hands clench into fists with protective fury that I quickly suppress before she notices.
“Little One,” I say gently, forcing my voice to remain steady despite the wrath simmering beneath the surface, “this is your home. You can go wherever you want, do whatever you like here.” The doubt that flashes across her face takes every ounce of my control not to gather her close and hold her in my arms, to take away everything that hurts her. I want to hunt down everyone who ever made her think she was less than cherished, anyone who convinced her she needs permission to exist.
The biggest red flag that tells me something is wrong was that she definitely was at Haven, and she hasn’t wanted to admit that. Dread turns my stomach to rocks wondering if that was the place that turned a beautiful teen into a guarded omega.
Mira smiles, small but real, and slips out of the kitchen with her new phone clutched in her hands. Her scent trails behind her, sweet with excitement and tentative joy. The sight of her leaving with such purpose, such quiet excitement, fills me with satisfaction. This is what we want, to see her bloom and rediscover passions that someone tried to strip away.
Zane leans against the counter next to me, crossing his arms. “She's still so guarded. Took hours last night for her to relax enough to forget whatever's weighing her down. You should have seen her, Adrian. When she finally let go, really smiled...” He trails off, losing himself in the memory.
“Something happened to her at Haven. Something very bad.” Haven is meant to be a, well, haven for omegas. Not a prison. I remember the omega at the gala event and how she looked so defeated. No, I correct myself. That's not the right word. She was a shell. A doll. Dressed, painted and lifeless. She looked trained . “I think something is terribly wrong there.”
Zane's scent shifts suddenly, and I catch the moment the idea hits him. “Sophie was at Haven.”
His sister, a few years older than Mira, might know something we don't. Sophie Thornton, now happily mated to her pack—James, Marcus, and David Reynolds—has become quite the advocate for omega rights through her art. Her latest exhibition on omega experiences drew national attention, making waves in the political sphere. “She went when it was first founded. But she’s never mentioned anything bad happening to her there.”
She’s not traumatized either.
“Sophie has a family. She has you. Your fathers. Your mother.” I hate to think of anyone hurting the children of Meredith Thornton. Mira was an orphan. There are no records of any siblings, and I think if she had any, she might not have lived in the conditions in which we found her. She was well and truly alone in the world. “If something bad happened to her, I’m sure your parents would have whisked her out before anyone could draw another breath. ”
“That’s an understatement,” Zane says.
“Think Sophie would mind a visit?” I ask. If anyone might understand what Mira's been through, it would be Sophie.
Zane's smile broadens. “Are you kidding? She loves any chance to show off little Isabella to me.” He pulls out his phone, fingers flying over the keys.
His phone pings almost immediately, and his grin grows wider. “Sophie says the coffee pot's already on. And,” he checks the message again, “she's got fresh muffins in the oven. Blueberry, your favorite.”
“Perfect,” I say, though anxiety churns in my gut. What will Sophie tell us about Haven? What horrors are we about to uncover? As far as I knew, she enjoyed being there.
“Should we tell Mira where we're going?” Zane asks, his scent sharpening with concern.
I shake my head slowly. “Not yet. Let's see what Sophie can tell us first. If we mention Haven directly...” I remember how Mira froze earlier, how her scent soured with fear. “Let's get some answers before we risk triggering her.”
“I’ll ask Cole to stay here and look after Mira. I’ll meet you at the front and we’ll drive there together after I’ve spoken to him,” I say.
Zane nods. “I’ll tell Mira we’ll be out for the afternoon.”
***
Sophie's townhouse sits in one of the city's most exclusive neighborhoods, all historic architecture and manicured gardens. The four-story Victorian has been lovingly restored, its deep blue paint and white trim immaculate. Window boxes overflow with winter blooms, and a wrought-iron fence encircles the property. It's exactly the kind of home in which you'd expect to find three successful alphas and their artist omega.
The door opens before we reach it, and Sophie stands there beaming. She's the picture of contentment, her honey-blonde hair loose around her shoulders, wearing a paint-splattered smock over designer jeans. Baby Isabella is nestled against her chest in a sling, sleeping peacefully, her dark curls peeking out, genetics she’s inherited from her biological father. Being Zane's sister, they share their green eyes and infectious smile. Sophie has always radiated a serene confidence that comes from being truly loved and supported by her pack.
She hugs Zane tightly, then freezes. Her nostrils flare as she catches our scent, and she pulls back with wide eyes. “Oh my Gods.” Excitement lights up her face. “You've been cleared for an omega? When did this happen? Why didn't you tell me? Mom hasn’t said a word. Did you tell her to keep it a secret from me?” The questions tumble out rapid-fire, her own jasmine scent sparking with joy.
Sophie's old enough that she escaped Haven's “placement program”. She got to choose her alphas, unlike omegas today who are assigned to packs. Hardwick brought in the rule that packs need to register with Haven and apply for an omega, stating the Institute’s algorithm is the best chance to match an omega with their forever pack..
I grimace, sharing a look with Zane. “It's... complicated, Soph. There's a lot more to the story.”
Concern sparks in her eyes. “Kitchen,” she says firmly. “This definitely calls for coffee and muffins before you tell me everything.” She leads us through their art-filled home, the walls covered with Sophie's paintings and photographs from their travels. “James and Marcus are at work, but David's upstairs in his office if we need him.”
The kitchen is warm and inviting, filled with morning light and the scent of fresh baking. Modern appliances blend seamlessly with vintage details, and a large island provides plenty of space for family gatherings. Sophie's latest canvas sits on an easel in the corner, bold strokes of color depicting an omega rights protest.
Sophie turns to face us and her expression grows serious. The carefree sister is replaced by the omega rights advocate. “Tell me everything,” she says, her green eyes sharp with intelligence. “And don't leave anything out.”
“Sophie, what we're about to tell you...” I lean forward, my voice low despite being in her secure home. Even here, in this safe space, some secrets are too dangerous to voice. “It has to stay absolutely secret. Lives could depend on it.” The weight of Mira's death certificate, of Haven's involvement, sits heavy in my chest .
“You have my word.”
She means it. Sophie is an advocate for omega rights, and she knows when to keep secrets. Zane and I lay out Mira's story… finding her in that malnourished state on the streets trying to pass herself off as a beta. We describe her flinches at sudden movements, her hoarding of food, her terror of authority. Sophie's scent shifts from concern to anger as we talk, her scent turning sharp with distress. “That’s terrible!”
“What was Haven like for you?” I ask finally. “When you were there?”
“For me?” She considers, tapping Isabella’s bottom gently when she starts to fuss. “It was... actually quite nice. Similar to a university dorm, really. We had comfortable rooms, good food, lots of social activities, although I attended when Haven was first founded and things weren’t as…strict…as they are for omegas today. I chose to go, not like it is for omegas today. I was only there for a couple of years before my heat and I found my mates, and well... there was no need to go back.” Her scent carries no trauma, just fond memories. “I made wonderful friends. I'm still close with many of them. Sarah's pack just had twins, and Rachel's expecting her first. We meet for coffee every month.”
What she says is true. She’s older than Mira and was close to twenty-one when Haven was founded. The picture she paints is nothing like what we suspect Mira experienced. “The omega classes were helpful. They taught us about our biology, about pack dynamics, about building healthy relationships. We had art therapy, nest-building workshops, even classes on omega rights and advocacy.”
If I didn't know better, I'd think we were talking about two completely different institutions. Nothing Sophie describes would make a vulnerable omega live on the streets.
“Haven did change, though. When Sylvia Mercer became the facility’s director and omega attendance was mandatory. I didn't experience them, but...” She trails off, looking troubled. “It was such a shame when she won the director position after Thomas Richardson. He was such a lovely man.”
The name catches my attention. “Richardson? ”
“Oh yes.” Sophie's face brightens with genuine fondness. “That alpha really understood omegas. Treated us like people, not just designations. He gave us driving lessons which he taught personally. Said omegas should be independent and capable.” Her smile fades. “Everything Mercer later dismantled.”
“Could he help us understand what happened?” Zane leans forward, his face sharpening with interest.
Sophie's face falls, and she clutches Isabella closer, as if protecting her from bad news. “Oh... you didn't hear about it? There wasn’t a lot of reporting on the tragedy come to think of it. It happened so long ago when you were busy starting Pinnacle. Thomas is dead. His whole pack too, except for their omega, that is. It was terrible.” She swallows hard. “No one expected their deaths because Thomas was always so careful. Such a good driver.”
“Sophie, how did Thomas die?” I ask, needing to know the answer and not wanting to hear it at the same time.
“This just never made sense to me because taking extra precautions was something he drummed into all of us, especially if we travel as a pack.” Sophie blinks wetness from her eyes as she looks at me. “His whole pack died in a car accident. All of them. Except their omega, Aubrey.”