9. Hailey
Chapter 9
Hailey
P ain comes first.
It ripples through me in waves, each throb a reminder of…of…
The memories slam into me. The cell. The escape. Running blind through the forest. An alpha’s growl.
My eyes snap open as panic tears through me. The unfamiliar ceiling above me swims into focus, and my heart pounds so hard I can barely breathe. Where am I? I’m still in that cabin. But how long have I been unconscious? I try to sit up, but my body screams in protest, every muscle burning from exertion and fear.
An alpha’s scent surrounds me. Rich and deep pine. It feels like it’s everywhere—but the most potent source is the jacket draped over me once more. I shudder at the sensation of it, even as my treacherous omega nature wants to burrow deeper into that scent. To forget there’s a world outside and I’m on the run.
Years of training war with instincts I thought they’d beaten out of me.
Eyes down. Always down. Never speak unless commanded. The rules are branded into my bones.
The room is brighter now. Early morning light spills across the floor that I force myself to study. Medical supplies are scattered nearby, and my arm…I blink down at the neat bandage wrapped around the worst of my cuts. Someone removed the rope from my wrists and treated my wounds while I was unconscious. The alpha?
H…how? Why ?
My insides twist with unease. An alpha touched me while I was defenseless. But…but he didn’t…
The fragments I remember don’t make sense. Strong hands catching me as I fell. A deep voice promising safety. But that can’t be right. Alphas don’t serve. I’m the one that’s supposed to play that role.
Oh, God…am I in trouble? Have I gotten myself into even more trouble than before?
A sound outside makes me curl smaller, pressing into the wall. Footsteps. Heavy ones. Alpha ones. Coming closer.
My vocal cords constrict, barely containing a whimper. I should kneel. Should present. But my body won’t move, locked in terror between training and the desperate need to run.
But he’s done all this for me. If he comes in here and sees me awake and alert but not in position… The terror of what this strange alpha might do shocks me into movement.
I scramble into position just as the door opens, my knees hitting the wooden floor hard enough to bruise. Training takes over—back arched, ass raised, arms stretched forward, forehead pressed to the cold boards. The position is ingrained, muscle memory born of pain and punishment. Present properly or suffer the consequences. My body assumes the pose before my mind can even process the shame.
The alpha’s footsteps stop abruptly. His pine scent spikes with…something I can’t identify. Not arousal. Not anger. But something that makes my shoulders tremble.
“You’re awa—What are you…No. God, no. Please get up.”
The command confuses me, goes against everything I know, but an order is an order. I start to rise, keeping my eyes firmly on the floor.
“Stop. Wait.” His voice sounds strained. “Just…sit however is comfortable. Please.”
I try to hold it back. The whimper comes out anyway. Nothing about this makes sense. The strange gentleness in his voice, the lack of expected punishment, the way he keeps saying ‘please’ like I’m a person instead of property. I freeze halfway between positions, trembling with uncertainty.
His scent shifts again, taking on notes of distress that make the omega in me want to comfort him—a dangerous, forbidden impulse. Never engage unless you are needed or commanded to.
The heavy footsteps retreat several steps.
“I’m going to set this bag down,” he says, voice carefully controlled now. “There’s food and clothes. Take what you need. But please…please don’t kneel like that again.”
My eyes burn with confused tears. I’ve done something wrong, but I don’t understand what. I’m supposed to maintain position until given clear direction, but he’s already ordered me up twice. The conflict makes me tremble harder.
A soft sound comes from his direction—almost a growl. “You’re safe here. No one will hurt you. No one will…expect that from you. Ever.”
The words don’t make sense. None of this makes sense. His pine scent wraps around me, simultaneously soothing and terrifying because it feels so right when everything else feels so wrong.
I remain frozen, caught between training and confusion, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for the mask of kindness to fall away. Waiting for reality to reassert itself in pain and punishment.
But the alpha just sets down his bag with careful movements. I can feel his eyes on me, even though I don’t dare look directly at him.
He’s waiting for me to sit .
Stiff legs take me back to the cot where I sit, the soft creak sounding loud in the silence.
The alpha releases a heavy breath. “I, uh…I didn’t know what you might like. There’s fruit and chicken. Some clothes that might be too big for you, but they’ll work for now. And I also brought more medical supplies.”
My hands tremble in my lap. Why isn’t he demanding proper presentation? Why isn’t he…?
His footsteps move closer and my shoulders hunch, face scrunching as I wince, waiting for the punishment, the pain, the…
“Fuck.” I hear him whisper. “You’re shaking.” He stops moving. “I’m not going to hurt you. I promise.”
Promises mean nothing. I learned that lesson in blood and tears.
“When was the last time you ate?”
It’s a direct question. Those require answers. “I…I don’t…” My voice cracks from disuse. How long has it been? “T…two days?”
He growls something low in his throat before his footsteps retreat again. There’s rustling, and I risk a discreet peek.
He’s pulling things from the bags, setting them on the small table. His movements are precise, controlled, like he’s trying not to startle me. From beneath my lashes, I catch glimpses of broad shoulders, strong hands being deliberately gentle with packages and containers. His chestnut hair curls slightly at the ends, and my fingers itch to trace those soft waves.
The sudden desire shocks me, like a current of electricity after years of numbness. I haven't wanted to touch anyone—haven’t wanted anything at all—since they broke me of such impulses. Yet here I am, fighting the urge to reach out, to connect. The Academy would consider this failure; weakness.
The horror of that thought makes me drop my gaze immediately.
The scent of food hits me next, making my stomach clench. Two days might have been optimistic. Between halving my already meager Reform Academy portions and skipping meals entirely, I can’t remember the last time I actually ate properly. Not that starving myself had made any actual difference in the end.
“This looks good.” He sets something on the edge of the cot, far enough away that I don’t have to be close to him to reach it. “Best to start with the fruit. Small bites.”
My hands twitch in my lap, but I don’t move. Can’t move. Haven’t been given explicit permission.
He makes that sound again—that pained almost-growl. “You can eat. Please eat.”
Permission granted. I reach slowly for what he’s left—an apple, perfectly ripe. My fingers tremble as I bring it closer, waiting for him to snatch it away. To make me beg. To…
But he just moves back to the table, keeping his distance as he continues unpacking supplies. I take a tiny bite, then another when nothing happens. The sweetness explodes on my tongue, making my eyes water.
“These are the clothes.” He hesitates. “You don’t have to wear them if you don’t want to. But it would help keep you warm.” He hesitates again. Through my peripheral vision, I see him run a hand through his hair. “And I need to check your bandages, but…” He trails off, scent flickering with something complex. “That can wait until you’re more comfortable.”
Comfortable. The word almost makes me laugh, but that would be disrespectful. Nothing about this situation makes sense. His kindness terrifies me more than cruelty would. At least cruelty I understand.
The apple is half gone before I realize I’m still clutching his jacket with my free hand, drawing comfort from that pine scent that speaks of safety and…something else. Something that makes me stir in ways that six years of training apparently didn’t touch. I turn it over in my mind, but I can’t put my finger on it. I don’t know what it is. I don’t unders?—
A sound outside makes me jump, the apple tumbling from suddenly numb fingers. The alpha moves faster than I can track, catching it before it hits the floor.
“Just a bird,” he soothes, but he doesn’t try to hand the apple back directly. Sets it on the cot instead. “You’re safe here. I swear it.”
I want to believe him. That’s the most terrifying part. Something in me wants to trust that pine scent, those gentle hands, that careful distance he keeps maintaining.
The longing to surrender to that trust aches in my bones. Six years of vigilance has left me exhausted, and his gentle presence calls to something deep in me—something that recognizes safety when it’s offered. But hope is dangerous. Hope is what got broken out of me, piece by piece, until I stopped reaching for it.
I know better. Don’t I?
The silence stretches, broken only by the distant bird calls through the window. I keep track of the alpha even with my head bent and my gaze not meeting his. When his pine scent shifts with something I can’t identify, it makes my skin prickle with awareness. The half-eaten apple sits between us like a question I don’t understand.
“So,” he starts, then stops. “You must have been freezing out there last night.”
I remain silent, hands folded in my lap.
More silence. His scent twists with what might be confusion.
“The woods aren’t safe at night,” he tries again. “Especially not in this weather. Temperature’s dropping every day.”
Still not a direct question. Not an order either. My fingers twist together, but I keep my eyes down.
He adjusts his hip where he’s standing, leaning against the table. “You don’t want to answer me…”
Dread surges through me. I can detect it in my own scent. And it seems he can smell it, too .
“…or maybe you…can’t?”
I can almost hear the gears turning in his head.
“I’m being honest when I say I won’t hurt you…”
Yes, so he’s said. But only time will tell if that is even true.
He utters a low sound, dragging his hand through his hair again. I’m making him frustrated. My anxiety spikes some more. But I can’t speak to him when he isn’t commanding me to. The stress of doing that, even when it seems safe to do so, but being eventually wrong, makes my vocal cords stiffen and dry up. It’s happened before at the Academy. One particular lesson with Widow taught me never to become so complacent again. Not after she forced my hands into ice water till they became numb and swollen for days. And all because I’d replied to her once when she’d been talking to me in much the same way this alpha is doing right now.
“The cabin,” he finally says, voice careful. “Were you trying to reach it specifically?”
A direct question. I can answer this. “No, Alpha.”
He inhales sharply at the title. His scent darkens with what might be frustration, though he keeps his tone gentle. “You were running through the woods at night. Where were you trying to go?”
He’s smart. He’s asking direct questions now. I have to be careful.
My hands clench in my lap. “Anywhere, Alpha. Away.”
“Away from what?”
“The Academy, Alpha.” The words come out barely above a whisper. What if he already knows the Academy and brings me right back there? I’ve never scented him before. Trust me, I’d remember. His pine scent is distinctive. But that doesn’t mean that he’s not affiliated with the institution.
One time, I’d heard Widow boasting about the sheer number of alphas they have signing up for their services. But even if this alpha knows about the Academy, it doesn’t matter. It’s clear I tried to run away. I can’t lie. He would see right through me .
His footsteps shift, a restless movement quickly stilled. “What academy?”
“The Reform Academy, Alpha.”
A long pause. His scent spikes with something sharp that makes me want to curl smaller. “And what exactly is the Reform Academy?”
What? He doesn’t know? Is this another trick? Another test?
My voice comes out practiced and hollow. “Where omegas learn their proper place, Alpha.”
A low sound rumbles from his chest—not quite a growl, but something that makes my muscles lock with tension. He moves away suddenly, his footsteps harsh against the wooden floor. When he speaks again, his voice is tight with controlled emotion.
“How long were you there?”
How long? That’s tricky. I only know because when I first arrived there, I’d only been fifteen. “S-six years, Alpha.”
The silence that follows feels heavy, charged with his agitation. I can hear him breathing—heavy, measured breaths that don’t quite mask the anger in his scent. I’ve said something wrong, but I don’t know what. My shoulders hunch further.
“And before that?” His voice is still carefully controlled. “Where were you before the…Academy?”
The question makes my throat constrict. “Home, Alpha. With my parents.”
“Until?”
“Until I revealed, Alpha.” My fingers twist together in my lap. His resulting growl makes my anxiety spike. My answers aren’t sufficient. I have to fix this, and fast. “Th-they came for me shortly after I revealed. It’s protocol for families that can’t afford the Omega Center and for omegas that are…”
Saying that it’s for omegas that are unwanted makes shame fill my soul. But he should already know that. It’s just how it is. That’s what Ma had said just before they’d handed her the five thousand bucks .
Another sharp spike in his scent, another controlled breath. “ They ? Who are ‘ they ’?”
I blink at the floor, his question actually rendering me speechless. Because…I don’t know who they are. I’ve never…they’re simply the alphas and betas who run the Academy. People whose faces I’ve never known.
“The alphas and betas who run the academy, Alpha.” Anxiety threatens to overwhelm me because I know he won’t be happy with that answer. And as usual, that core part of me wants to be good. Wants to please him. “Th-they ensure all omegas receive proper training.”
He moves again, pacing. The floorboards creak under his weight. Each heavy step makes me flinch, though he stays on the far side of the room.
“And yesterday?” he finally asks. “How did you end up in these woods?”
I swallow hard. This is where the punishment will come. “I…I ran, Alpha. During transport. I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t.” The word comes out harsh, making me cringe. His scent immediately shifts to something softer, regretful. “Don’t apologize for running. Please.”
But I should apologize. Disobedience must be acknowledged. Must be punished. The confusion makes my eyes burn.
“Transport to where?” he asks after another long pause.
“M-m-my Master.” Tears swell in my eyes. I want to fall to my knees and ask him not to take me there now that he knows, but he ordered me to sit. “I…I completed my training.”
Something shatters. I jerk at the sound, heart slamming into my ribs, but don’t dare look up to see what he’s broken. His scent is a storm of emotions I can’t interpret, and a whine slips past my lips even though I try to hold it in my throat.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he whispers, more to himself than to me. Then, louder but gentler: “How old are you?”
“Twenty-one, Alpha. ”
“Twenty-one—” He cuts himself off. More controlled breathing. “You were fifteen when they took you?”
“Yes, Alpha.”
The sound he makes isn’t quite human. I press back against the cot, unsure if I should present again, if I’ve angered him somehow. But he doesn’t come closer. Instead, his footsteps retreat until I think he must be by the door.
“I need to…” He stops; starts again. “I’m going to step outside for a moment. Just…just a moment. You’re safe. Stay here. Eat more if you can.”
The door opens and closes. Through the walls, I hear what might be another crash, followed by what definitely sounds like a fist hitting something solid.
I clutch his jacket closer, breathing in that pine scent that still somehow speaks of safety, even as confusion and fear make me tremble. Nothing about this makes sense. His anger doesn’t feel directed at me, but I don’t understand why else he would be so affected.
Through the walls, I can hear him moving. Pacing. Twigs snap as he moves. His scent is still turbulent, though the sharp edge of anger has dulled to something heavier. Sadder, maybe.
I should feel relieved he’s outside. Should use this moment to gather my thoughts, plan my next move. But his absence makes me feel strangely untethered. Lost.
The apple sits half-eaten beside me, its sweet scent mingling with the lingering trace of his pine. My stomach cramps, reminding me how long it’s been since I’ve eaten properly. But Widow’s voice whispers in my head about discipline and control.
A bird calls again, closer this time. I flinch, then force myself still. It’s only a bird. You remember those, right, Hailey? Before you were locked up in the Academy’s walls, surrounded by metal and only the sound of other whimpering omegas.
I swallow hard.
The window shows patches of grey sky between the trees. It must be early still. Or maybe just overcast. I’ve lost all sense of time since…
Since the transport. Since running. Since…
My breathing slows down as the memories surface. The crash. The other omegas still stuck in that truck. Did they try to run? What happened to Vi? Had anyone followed me? Would they be looking? They must be looking.
Oh God, what if they find me here? What if they hurt him for helping me?
The thought surprises me. I shouldn’t care. He’s an alpha. They’re all the same in the end.
Aren’t they?
His footsteps pace in front of the cabin. I can almost feel his agitation through the walls. Nothing about him fits what I know about alphas. His gentleness. His anger at things that should be normal. The way he keeps asking instead of commanding.
If this is all some elaborate trick…a test…some new form of training…
But why would they bother? I’ve already failed. I ran. Proved myself defective despite six years of…
Through the walls, a phone rings, breaking the tense silence. His footsteps pause, and I hear him answer with a clipped “ What ?”
A pause. His scent shifts with frustration.
“Now? I’m taking the day off, Jax.” Another pause. “No, I understand, but—” Silence. A twig snaps as he moves. “The quarterly reports can’t wait until—” More silence. “Fine. Yes. Give me a few minutes.”
The call ends with what sounds like him jabbing the screen harder than necessary. His agitation is so high now that it bleeds through the walls as if he was right beside me. I try to even my breaths, but the scent still makes skin prickle. Heavy footsteps pace outside before the door opens again.
His pine scent floods the room, twisted with reluctance and something that might be worry. I keep my eyes fixed on the floor as he moves closer, stopping a careful distance away.
“I have to go into the office.” His voice is tight. “I don’t want to leave you alone, but…staying out here with you might cause more problems right now.”
I remain still, waiting. The conflict in his scent makes me want to whine in distress.
“Look at me.” It’s spoken gently, not an alpha command. “Please.”
The request confuses me. Without the command behind it, I shouldn’t…but he asked… My head lifts slowly, eyes meeting his for the first time. The intensity in his gaze makes me want to look away, but something holds me there.
“You’re safe here,” he says, each word stressed. “No one knows about this cabin except me. No one will find you here.” He runs a hand through his hair, frustration evident. “I need you to stay. Please stay. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
I blink at him, confused. He’s not using his alpha command. He could force me to stay, but he’s… asking ? The concept doesn’t compute.
“There’s food,” he continues, gesturing to the table. “Water. Clothes. The bathroom is just there.” He gestures with one hand. “Whatever you need. No one comes to this part of the property. Just…” His scent spikes with worry. “Just please be here when I get back.”
He backs away slowly, like he’s afraid any sudden movement will startle me. At the door, he hesitates. “A few hours. That’s all. I promise.”
Another moment of hesitation. I can smell how much he doesn’t want to leave. Finally, he steps out, closing the door with painful gentleness behind him. His footsteps crunch through the fallen leaves, growing fainter until they fade into the forest sounds.
I’m alone .
I stand on shaky legs. No alpha command holds me in place. I could run. Should run.
But the scent of perfectly cooked chicken draws my attention to the table. My stomach growls, mouth watering at the sight of the food he left.
Widow’s voice slithers through my memory: “Look at the pig, boys. No self-control. No discipline.” The crack of her whip against my back. “An omega who can’t control their appetite must be trained to. You will eat only the scraps left from your master’s table. You’ll be thankful if all he gives you to eat in a single day is his essence.”
This chicken looks perfectly prepared. I haven’t seen food look this good in…well…in years. Not since before the Academy, when I used to walk past expensive restaurants and spot people eating within.
This dish looks prepared with love and care. This isn’t some scraps from his table. And it’s nothing like the food at the Academy.
I remember the tests. Food left out, seemingly unattended. But there were always eyes watching, waiting to catch us being greedy. Disobedient.
This has to be another test.
Why would he just give away such perfectly prepared food?
My feet carry me to the door before I fully register moving. The cool air hits my face as I step outside, my body trembling with more than just cold.
Somehow, I find my way back through the trees until I reach the fence where I’d collapsed last night. Beyond it lies freedom. Or maybe just another kind of cage. Everything I know about alphas, about the world, tells me not to trust this alpha’s kindness.
I stand there, frozen between staying and running, as the wind whispers through the trees.