6. Hailey
Chapter 6
Hailey
D arkness cradles me when I wake. For a moment, panic flutters in my chest before memory slots into place—the blindfold must have shifted back over my eyes while I slept. The fabric feels different against my skin now, softer somehow. Less like a punishment and more like a shield.
I’m warm. That’s the next sensation that filters through. Warm and…surprisingly comfortable, considering I’d spent who knows how long running through the forest. The thought of the forest sends a shiver through me, but it’s distant, like a nightmare half-remembered.
That’s when I catch it. Pine . The scent wraps around me, fresh and crisp and so achingly recognizable that for one heart-stopping moment, I think I must have fallen asleep out there among the trees. The sweet scent of pine was my first taste of freedom—that initial breath of air after the crash. But this…this is different. Deeper. Richer. More…
A soft whimper escapes my lips before I can stop it. Safet y. Home . The scent speaks of shelter and protection, of strong walls and stronger arms. Of everything I’ve been denied for so long.
I find myself nuzzling deeper into the warmth surrounding me, chasing that scent. Some part of me knows I shouldn’t. Knows that six years of Reform Academy training is screaming at me to stop, to analyze, to think . But I’m so tired. So very tired of fighting every instinct, every natural response.
Just for a moment, I tell myself. Just one moment to pretend I’m safe. That I’m wanted. That I’m…
The clarity hits like a bucket of ice water. This isn’t pine from trees. This is pine and musk and…
Alpha .
My heart slams against my ribs as I try to bolt upright. Pain explodes through my body—cuts and bruises I’d forgotten making themselves violently known. Something heavy slides off my shoulders as I move, and I’m rolling, falling before I can catch myself.
The impact of the floor steals my breath. Every scratch and gash from my flight through the forest screams awake. My ribs feel like they’re trying to collapse in on themselves. A whimper escapes again before I can swallow it back.
Focus. Think .
The Academy’s mantras beat against my skull: An omega in the presence of an alpha must maintain proper posture. Must keep their eyes downcast. Must speak only when spoken to. Must…
The rest dissolves into static as my fingers scrabble against worn wooden floorboards. A cabin. I’m in a cabin. The memory fights through the panic—finding the building in the dark, breaking in, collapsing…
Something soft brushes my hand. Fabric. I grip the thing, searching for clarity in darkness that’s more than just the blindfold and the dark night. A jacket? It’s the thing that had been keeping me warm. An alpha’s jacket, carrying that devastating pine scent that had lulled my guard down. Which means…
A board creaks outside the room. On the porch.
I hear the slight squeal of a hinge as the door opens.
I freeze, my whole being going still as heavy footsteps enter the room. The alpha’s scent intensifies—pine and strength and something else, something that makes my instincts keen with recognition even as my rational mind screams danger.
“Easy.” The voice is deep. So very masculine but gentle in a way that makes it worse somehow. “You’re safe here.”
I press myself against the floor, fighting the dual urges to submit and to run. The Reform Academy never taught us what to do when these instincts warred with each other. The Academy’s cruelty was a blunt force; it left me scarred and broken. But it never prepared me for subtle manipulation. Because this alpha’s voice is silken. The silken voice of an alpha who sounds kind .
Even I know, alphas like this are the most dangerous of all.
My pulse races so hard I’m certain he can hear it. Everything in me screams to make myself smaller, to show submission before he can force it. The Academy’s lessons burn in my muscles—proper posture, downcast eyes, hands folded. But I can’t make myself move. Can’t do anything but press against the floor as his footsteps draw closer.
“You’re bleeding.” His voice rumbles through the room. There’s something off about his tone—concern? Confusion? I can’t tell. Can’t think past the way his scent wraps around me, making me want to roll over and bare my throat.
No. No. Can’t submit. It’s the exact thing I was running away from. A fiery pain shoots through my chest. I didn’t even get a chance to try to be properly free before getting caught again. All that hope was for nothing .
I’ve been caught, and now this alpha is going to take me back to whatever master was waiting for me to arrive on that transport. Worse yet, he might bring me back to the Academy, where I’ll definitely be punished for trying to run away.
A whimper slips past my lips, and I sink further into myself, knowing that making any sound at all will result in further punishment. The sound seems to freeze the alpha in place.
“I’m not going to hurt you.” He moves again, slower now. The floorboards creak under his weight. “But you’re injured. Let me help.”
I shake my head. The movement makes the blindfold shift, reminding me of my vulnerability. Of how I can’t see what he’s doing, where he is, if he’s reaching for me…
And oh no…I just denied his request. I brace for him to strike. Squeeze my eyes shut behind the blindfold, waiting for it.
Instead, something else happens.
The alpha’s scent shifts, taking on a sharp note of…distress? That can’t be right. Alphas don’t get distressed over omegas. They command. They control. They?—
Gentle fingers brush my cheek, near the blindfold’s edge. I jerk back, hitting the wooden frame of the bed behind me. Pain lances through my shoulders, drawing another whimper.
“Shh.” The sound is soft, almost pained. “I just want to?—”
The blindfold falls away.
Light stabs my eyes. I drop my head instantly, letting my hair fall forward like a shield. But not before I catch a glimpse—broad shoulders, firm jaw, rich chestnut hair, and eyes that seem to glow amber. He’s kneeling before me, which seems wrong somehow. Alphas don’t kneel to omegas.
From beneath my lashes, I steal fractured glances at my surroundings. Wooden walls. The bed I fell from. Simple furniture. The jacket that had covered me lies in a heap of dark fabric on the floor. It’s the same cabin I’d found. Through the window, I can see it’s not the absolute darkness of night as I expected, but that the rays of morning are already streaking across the bits of sky visible through the trees. Panic makes me breathe harder. How long had I been asleep?
“Look at me.” His voice is gentle, but I flinch anyway. He makes a sound—something between a growl and a sigh. “Please.”
The ‘please’ startles me more than any alpha command could have. Is this…is this some kind of trick? A test? As an omega, I’m supposed to follow every order given to me by my master…m-my alph a. Even when that command goes against everything I’ve been taught for the last six years? Alphas command. Omegas obey. Eye contact is forbidden unless explicitly ordered. Hesitation equals punishment.
But how can I not hesitate now? I’m unsure what to do, while also not wanting to stoke this alpha’s wrath. Alphas are known to be unstable. Prone to fits of rage. Impatience. And startling strength.
But this alpha…he’s breaking all the rules. The kneeling. The ‘please.’ The patient silence as he waits for my response. My heart thunders in my chest as I try to make sense of it. Is this some elaborate training exercise? Another lesson in obedience?
And his scent .
I didn’t know alphas could smell like this. So…clean. So… good . Like pine needles after rain, like mountain air and wilderness. Not the aggressive, overwhelming musk I’d been trained to submit to. This scent makes something deep inside me want to lean closer, want to breathe deeper, but I force myself to remain still.
I bite back another whimper in my throat, hoping I’m hiding the fact his scent alone makes something melt inside me. The vulnerability is so acute it brings tears to my eyes.
Finally, when he remains silent still, I risk another glance up. He’s watching me with an expression I can’t read—brows drawn together, lips pressed tight. He looks…lost? That can’t be right either.
“What’s your name?” he asks, still in that gentle voice that makes all my internal processes go awry.
I open my mouth, but no sound comes out. Speaking without permission was always met with swift correction at the Academy. The memory makes my throat close up.
He shifts his weight, and I can’t help the full-body flinch. His scent spikes with something sharp—anger?—and I curl tighter into myself, waiting for the blow, the command, the punishment .
“Fuck,” he breathes, and suddenly he’s moving away, putting space between us. “I’m doing this all wrong.”
The distance helps clear my head a little. Lets me breathe past the overwhelming pine-and-earth scent of him. He’s different from the alphas at the Academy. His movements are careful, telegraphed. He’s trying not to frighten me.
That makes him more frightening somehow.
“I’m Stone,” he offers into the silence. Like we’re having a normal conversation. Like I’m not a strange omega who broke into his cabin. Like this whole situation isn’t wrong in every way.
A low whine builds in my throat. I can’t help it—the omega in me wants to respond to his gentleness, wants to trust the safety his scent promises. But six years of training scream that it’s a trap. That any response will be wrong. That I need to be still, quiet, perfect…
My ribs throb. One of the cuts on my arm has reopened, a warm trickle of blood sliding down to my wrist. The pain helps ground me; reminds me I ran for a reason. That I can’t trust gentle words or kind eyes or a pine scent that makes me want to curl up and submit.
“You’re bleeding .” He stresses the fact again. His entire frame looks tight, as if he might snap, and I glance around, looking for a way out. But he’s standing near the only exit.
My breaths come hard as I drop my gaze again, swallowing hard just as he takes a step forward. I press harder against the bed.
Something close to a growl rumbles from his chest—not threatening, but frustrated. The sound hits something deep in me, making me want to bare my neck, to apologize, to be good…
No. No. No.
“I have medical supplies,” he says, each word measured like he’s talking to a spooked animal. Maybe he is. “You need treatment.”
The mere thought of him touching me sends tremors through my body. At the Academy, touch was never gentle. Never kind. It was correction, control, a reminder of our place. And back home…even though it feels like an entire lifetime ago…touch was…touch was nonexistent.
But my wounds are screaming now, the adrenaline fading enough for pain to take hold. The cut on my arm drips steadily, and my ribs feel like they’re wrapped in fire. The tiny scrapes and cuts from my time in the forest all burn at once.
The alpha’s scent shifts again, taking on an edge of urgency. “You’re going into shock.”
Am I? The room seems to be swaying slightly. Or maybe that’s me. The bed frame is the only thing keeping me upright right now.
He moves forward, and this time I’m too dizzy to flinch away. His hands hover near my shoulders, not touching, but ready to catch me. “Please. Let me help you.”
That word again. Please. Like I have a choice. Like my consent matters.
But there’s something raw in his voice, something almost desperate that doesn’t fit what I know of alphas.
“I—” My voice cracks from disuse and fear shoots through me at the fact I spoke. How long has it been since I’ve spoken? Since I’ve been allowed to? Oh God, he’s going to punish me. This act of kindness, or whatever it is, will snap, and he’ll punish me.
“Shh, it’s okay.” His scent wraps around me, steadying. Grounding. “Just nod if you understand me. The medical supplies are in the bathroom. I need to get them. Will you be alright if I leave for a moment?”
Leave? He’s asking permission to leave?
Nothing makes sense. The room spins faster. My arm throbs in time with my heartbeat.
I don’t know what to do. My head sways, and the alpha releases a distressed grunt. With little effort, his arms encircle me and he lifts me off the floor, setting me back on the cot.
“Shh, it’s going to be alright.” The promise is like his physical touch. Warm and right when it should all feel so wrong. “I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”
It’s not an alpha command—I can feel the difference—but my body obeys anyway. I stay pressed into the cot as he rises, as his footsteps retreat. The door stays open. I could run.
I should run.
But where? The forest nearly killed me the first time. And I’m so tired. So hurt. So…
The alpha’s scent lingers, pine and earth and safety that I can’t trust but desperately want to. As the room tilts sharply, my vision greys at the edges. I hear rapid footsteps returning, feel the displacement of air as he drops to his knees beside me.
“Stay with me.” His voice sounds far away. “You’re safe here. I promise you’re safe.”
Lies. Pretty lies wrapped in a gentle voice and pine scent. But I’m falling anyway, sliding into a shroud as consciousness slips away.
The last thing I feel is strong arms around me, cradling me like I’m something precious instead of broken. Unwanted. Only good enough to be desired in secret.
The last thing I hear is a ragged whisper: “What happened to you?”
Then darkness takes me again, but this time it smells like pine.