16. Finn
Chapter 16
Finn
H er voice catches like fabric on barbed wire as she begins her story, and my fingers curl against the counter’s edge, fighting the urge to comfort her. It’s strange how my usual omega territoriality seems nonexistent with her—where I should feel threatened by another omega in my space, I only want to protect. Something about her pulls at my instincts in a way I’ve never experienced with another omega. Maybe it’s how small she looks in Stone’s clothes, or how her scent keeps spiking with fear despite my attempts to keep the kitchen saturated with my own calming pheromones.
At first, I think she’s lying. A Reform Academy? In this day and age? But as she continues, describing the sterile bedroom and strict routines, my skepticism turns to horror. Her hands flutter against her thighs as she speaks, fingers kneading the fabric like a nervous cat. The way her gaze keeps going to the door while her body unconsciously orients toward me—these aren’t the tells of a liar. This is trauma, raw and real.
She describes the daily “lessons” in submission, the constant reminders of her place in society, and I remember how she fell to my feet earlier. Fuck. My stomach turns as she mentions the suppressants they were given, the way they were kept isolated from each other. Everything designed to break them down, to make them perfect, compliant omegas for whatever alpha purchased them. She can’t be making it up. It’s too…too horrific.
The accident she describes with the truck sounds like something from an action movie—the way the truck rolled and almost tore apart. But I recognize that distant look in her eyes, the unconscious way her fingers drift to her temple when she talks about it. There’s probably still a bump there, hidden under her hair.
I have the same tells when I remember my own accident. The one that changed everything. That slight wince that crosses her features, the way her words get a bit choppy and disconnected—those are the marks of someone who’s lived through metal crushing around them, who’s felt the world spin and shatter.
I know because my hand does the same thing, reaching for the scar hidden in my hairline whenever I think about my own wreck. It’s like muscle memory of trauma.
She talks about running through the woods, about being so tired and cold she thought she would die. About climbing the fence and finding the cabin. Of thinking anything was better than freezing to death outside. Her voice gets quieter when she mentions waking up to find Stone. How he brought her food and bandaged her wounds. How he brought her clothes and the fluffy blanket I saw her sleeping under.
Her hands wring when she mentions that, eyes darting to the door again. She probably wants it back. I’ll have to go get it for her later.
When she finishes, silence fills the kitchen. I realize I’m gripping the counter so hard the skin over my knuckles has stretched thin.
“So Stone…he didn’t bring you there. He found you?” I ask finally, trying to keep my voice steady.
She nods, wrapping her arms around herself. “He…he just st arted bringing things. Food. Clothes. But he never…” She swallows hard. “He never tried to make me submit or…or claim me.”
She says that like it’s something natural and expected. Like she expected the first alpha she met to do just that. I open my mouth to tell her that’s not how it works. That omegas are so rare, so precious, that we’re the ones who get to choose. That most of us are spoiled brats who pit alphas against each other, who see other omegas as competition rather than potential friends.
God, I remember being like that once—turning my nose up at other omegas, seeing them as threats to my status. There are so few of us that most cities only have a handful, and we’re constantly trying to outdo each other for the best packs, the most powerful alphas, the most luxurious lives.
The fact that she expects to be claimed, to be forced into submission…it makes my blood boil. What did they teach her at that place? What kind of twisted reality did they create?
“Why didn’t Stone call the police or bring you to the hospital?” I think out loud, and immediately regret it when Hailey’s scent spikes with terror.
“No!” She stands so quickly the barstool scrapes against the floor. “Please, no police. No doctors. They’ll send me back. They’ll?—”
“Okay, okay,” I say quickly, raising my hands in a placating gesture. “No police. I promise.”
She’s trembling now, looking between me and the door like she’s calculating her chances of escape. “Thank you for the food,” she whispers. “I should go.”
“Go where?” The words sound sharp, and I force myself to soften my tone. “Sorry, I just…you’re safe here, Hailey. You don’t have to run anymore.”
Her scent turns bitter with fear, and I respond instinctively. I want to gather her close, to nuzzle and comfort her the way pack does. But she’s not pack. Yes, her scent draws me in a way that’s strange and, frankly, worrisome, but she’s not Ironwood. So I hold back, knowing touch might make things worse right now.
“Please,” she whispers, and God, the way her voice breaks makes some part of me ache to help her. “I can’t go back there. I won’t.”
“You won’t,” I say firmly, letting my scent project calm and safety. “No one’s going to make you go anywhere. I just…” I run a hand through my hair, gripping the strands. “I don’t understand why Stone didn’t tell us. Why he kept you hidden away in that cabin instead of bringing you here?”
She shrinks in on herself at the mention of Stone, and something protective rises in me. It’s a new sensation. One I’ve never had for anyone outside my alphas. And yet, it doesn’t feel wrong.
Whatever’s going on with Stone, with all of them, I can’t let it hurt her. She’s been hurt enough.
“Look,” I say softly, moving slowly around the counter. “You need rest. A proper bath.” I gesture at her borrowed clothes. “Clean things to wear. I have plenty you can borrow until we figure this out.”
Her eyes widen slightly at the mention of a bath, and I catch a flash of longing in her scent before she suppresses it. When was the last time she had a real bath? The cabin only has that tiny shower, and it’s not plumbed for hot water.
The fact I can scent her emotions so easily is even baffling. That kind of scent-bond, that deep emotional connection, is something that usually only develops between pack members after months or years together. Even other omegas I’ve known for ages remain mostly closed off to me, our natural competitiveness creating barriers between us.
But with her…it’s like those walls don’t exist. Like something in her calls to something in me, raw and instinctive and impossible to ignore. Is it because she’s been trained by this Academy to be open? Submissive. To not guard herself ?
“I…” she starts, then stops, biting her lip. “I don’t want to impose. I can stay in the cabin until?—”
“Nope.” I’m already shaking my head. “Impose? Honey, this house is built for a pack. There are five bedrooms upstairs. There’s only one available since the others sleep in theirs.” The words come out more bitter than I want, and I see her flinch. “Sorry. That’s not…I just mean there’s plenty of space. And having you around might be nice.”
At least she’d be someone to talk to instead of the empty rooms, the walls, and the plants in my little garden.
I try not to think about how lonely it’s been. Or how much I’ve missed having someone who understands the way I think, the way I feel. Even if she’s nothing like the polished, competitive omegas I’m used to, there’s something about her that calls to that part of me that needs pack, needs family.
“The alphas…” she starts nervously.
“Won’t be back until tonight,” I finish. “And even then, they won’t hurt you. Whatever’s going on between all of us right now…” I swallow hard past the lump in my throat. “This is still a safe place. I promise.”
She studies me for a long moment, and I let her. Let her see the truth in my eyes, in my scent. Finally, her shoulders relax slightly.
“A bath sounds nice,” she admits quietly.
Relief floods through me. “Come on,” I say, gesturing toward the stairs. “The main bathroom has this huge soaking tub that’s basically heaven. And I have some bath bombs that smell ah-mazing .”
A little flutter goes through me. A spark of happiness that’s so sudden I almost stumble on the first stair.
As I lead her upstairs, I try not to think about how Stone kept her hidden, about why he didn’t tell us, about what it means for our already strained pack dynamics. Right now, all that matters is taking care of this lost, frightened omega who somehow found her way to us.
And later? Later, I’m going to have some very serious questions for my alpha.