34. Hailey
Chapter 34
Hailey
T he world beyond the tinted windows seems impossibly bright, impossibly vast. Buildings stretch toward the sky like gleaming mountains of steel and glass, their surfaces flashing in the winter sun. Six years. Six years since I’ve seen a city, and everything feels alien and familiar all at once.
“Are those…billboards?” I press closer to the window, staring at the massive panels mounted high above the streets. They’re not like the ones I remember, the faded posters or the peeling paint. These are slick, digital displays, the images shifting seamlessly between ads.
“Digital advertising.” Finn’s voice is gentle beside me. His hand finds mine, squeezing softly. “They started putting them up everywhere about four years ago. Pretty, aren’t they?”
Pretty isn’t the word. Overwhelming. Mesmerizing. I watch as a woman’s face transforms into a cascade of butterflies, then reforms into a perfume bottle. The colors are so bright they make my eyes water behind the sunglasses.
“There are so many people,” I whisper, watching the crowds flow along the sidewalks. Alphas in tailored suits checking their phones, betas rushing past with earbuds in or balancing trays of coffee. “So many alphas and betas.”
“And omegas too,” Finn says.
I go still. What? Turning to face the window once more, I realize I’m holding my breath. “How do you know?”
Finn leans closer, pointing at a woman dressed in white. “See her, how she walks between her alphas? Or that one surrounded by beta attendants? You can always tell by the way people move around them, making space.”
I squint, watching more carefully now. He’s right. Scattered among the crowds are omegas—some walking close to protective alphas, others accompanied by smartly dressed betas who clear their paths and attend to their needs. It’s like watching a complicated dance, the way the crowds naturally part around them.
I can’t help but stare. Omegas. Walking freely. Shopping. Laughing.
“You okay?” Stone’s eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror, concern evident even through his stern expression.
I nod, not trusting my voice. An omega just walked past wearing the shortest skirt I’ve ever seen, chatting on a phone that looks nothing like the ones I remember. No collar. No trainer. Just…free.
Finn’s thumb traces circles on my palm. “It’s a lot, isn’t it? We can turn back if?—”
“No.” The word comes out as a whisper. “No, I…want to see.”
The car glides through traffic, and I try to absorb everything at once. The shops have changed—some of them names I don’t recognize. People carry themselves differently, too. Or maybe I’m the one who’s different, seeing the world through fresh eyes.
“Here we are.” Stone pulls into a parking structure attached to what looks like an enormous glass cube. “Ready?”
My heart hammers against my ribs and the scarf suddenly feels too tight, the sunglasses too dark. But Finn’s hand is warm in mine, anchoring me .
“Remember,” he says softly, “just stay close to us. If anything feels wrong?—”
“We leave immediately,” Stone finishes, opening our door. “No questions asked.”
The store entrance looms before us like a portal to another world. As we approach, the glass doors slide open silently, releasing a rush of climate-controlled air that carries a thousand unfamiliar scents. My steps falter.
“Breathe,” Finn murmurs, tucking my hand into his elbow. “Nice and slow. We’ll take it one aisle at a time.”
The lights hit me first—so bright, so sterile. For a moment, it feels like I’m back at the Academy. Back in that room where I was poked and prodded. It takes everything within me to move my limbs and walk beside Finn. Then the sounds: music playing softly overhead, the beep of registers, the murmur of voices, the squeak of cart wheels on polished floors. Colors assault my vision from every direction—packaging designed to catch the eye, signs announcing sales, displays arranged in rainbow patterns.
“Oh,” I breathe, swaying slightly. Everything seems to pulse with its own energy, its own urgency.
Stone moves closer, his bulk shielding me from the curious glances of other shoppers. “Cart or basket?”
“Cart,” Finn decides. “Better coverage.”
I don’t understand until he positions me between himself and the cart, creating a buffer between me and the rest of the store. Stone takes point, leading us toward what looks like a clothing section.
“Let’s start with the basics,” Finn says, his voice pitched low and soothing. “Undergarments first. Then we’ll work our way up to—oh!” He brightens suddenly. “Look at these!”
He holds up something made of soft-looking fabric in a pale rose color. “These are perfect for sleeping. They’re designed specifically for omegas in pre-heat—temperature regulating fabric, extra absorption…what do you think? ”
I stare at the garment, heat flooding my cheeks. At the Academy, I was often naked. Choice wasn’t part of the equation.
“I…I don’t…” The words stick in my throat.
“Here.” Finn’s voice gentles further. “Feel the material. See how soft it is? And look—” he points to different features as if discussing something completely normal, not intimate clothing that makes my ears burn. “The waistband is adjustable, and there’s this special lining that helps when things get… uncomfortable.”
A passing beta gives us an odd look. Stone shifts slightly, blocking their view.
“You’ll want several pairs,” Finn continues, adding packages to the cart. “And these too—they’re like regular underwear but with built-in protection. Much more comfortable than the old-fashioned kinds.”
He keeps up a steady stream of commentary as we move through the aisles, explaining each item as if teaching a particularly interesting lesson.
“Oh, these are new!” He holds up something that looks like a thin patch. “Scent modulators. They help regulate hormone levels during pre-heat. Much better than the chemical suppressants they used to use. And look—” he points to a small symbol on the package. “Omega-owned company. They actually test their products properly instead of just assuming what we need.”
Omega -owned? Am I imagining all this?
My attention snags on a group of omegas near the beauty section, their alphas hovering nearby. Three of them, probably my age or a little older, are sampling perfumes with practiced smiles that don’t reach their eyes. Two wear claiming bites proudly visible above their collars, and the third—I blink, not sure I’m seeing right—has multiple claiming marks. I watch as one omega sprays perfume with a too-sharp flick of her wrist, the mist “accidentally” catching another omega in the face. Their laughter is like wind chimes made of glass—beautiful but sharp enough to cut. Even as they share compliments, I can see the way they subtly angle their bodies to display their claiming marks, the way their eyes constantly assess and measure each other’s status, beauty, worth.
It’s…strange.
“Different world, isn’t it?” Finn murmurs, following my gaze. “Multiple claims aren’t as taboo anymore. Omegas kind of…run the world.”
Ok, I definitely am imagining all this.
I touch my neck reflexively, feeling phantom teeth that never actually marked me. The Academy had been very clear about our future: one master, one claim, no choices.
The omega with multiple claims picks up a lipstick, applying it with ease. Her friends offer opinions, their body language completely at ease. No flinching. No scanning for threats. No permission needed for such a simple act of self-expression.
“Speaking of choices,” Finn says gently, “would you like to pick out some things? Whatever catches your eye.”
I blink at him, uncomprehending. “I…can choose?”
Something flashes across his face before he forces a smile. “Of course you can, sunshine. Whatever you want.”
Stone, who’s been maintaining a protective perimeter around us, moves closer. “Within reason,” he rumbles, but there’s warmth in his tone. “Budget’s not unlimited.”
Finn rolls his eyes. “Please. Like you’d actually enforce a budget.” He turns back to me. “Ignore him. He’s just pretending to be responsible because he’s the alpha.”
“Someone has to be,” Stone mutters, but his lips twitch.
I stare at the shelves surrounding us, overwhelmed by options. Colors, scents, textures—how do people choose? How do they know what they want when want itself feels like such a dangerous thing?
A display of hair accessories catches my eye. Simple things—elastic bands, soft scrunchies, plain clips. Safe choices. Simple choices.
“Those?” Finn asks, noting my interest. “Good idea. Your hair’s long—you’ll need ways to keep it back.” He steers the cart closer, then steps back. “Go ahead. Pick whatever you like.”
My hand trembles as I reach out. The scrunchies are arranged by color, a rainbow of soft fabrics. Without thinking, I touch a pale blue one that reminds me of the sky.
“That’s perfect.” Finn grins. “What else?”
Emboldened, I select a few more—grey, lavender, a soft cream color. Each choice becomes a little easier, a little more certain.
“Look.” Finn points to another section. “They have matching headbands. Want to try some?”
Before I can answer, a commotion near the front of the store draws Stone’s attention. His posture shifts subtly, alpha protectiveness radiating from every line of his body.
“Just a kid throwing a tantrum,” he reports after a moment, but he stays alert. “We should probably wrap this up soon.”
Finn nods, but his voice remains light. “Just a few more things. Hailey needs proper clothes, and—oh!” His eyes light up. “The nesting section! We can’t forget that.”
I swear I notice Stone going rigid. “Finn…” But he doesn’t say anything else.
Finn turns his smile to Stone, but it feels like there’s something underneath.
“Finn, you don’t have to do that…”
Finn blinks. That smile still pasted on his face. “Of course, I do,” he says, and I’m sure something passes between them. A conversation I can’t read. “That way,” he says, “it’s my choice, too.”
Stone swallows hard, Adam’s apple bobbing, before his shoulders sag.
I feel the mood shift, but Finn is already guiding the cart toward an area filled with soft-looking fabrics and pillows. The scents here are different—calming, designed to appeal to omega instincts, I suppose. Several other omegas browse the displays, some with betas, some with their alphas .
“These are essential,” Finn explains, selecting various items. “Special blankets for nests—see how they’re weighted? Helps with the anxiety. And these pillows are filled with something that responds to body temperature. Much better than regular ones when things get…intense.”
I watch as he fills the cart with things I never knew existed. Things designed specifically for omegas, for our comfort, our needs. The Academy had given us bare minimum supplies—just enough to survive. But this…this is different. This is care.
A young omega nearby is discussing fabric choices with her alpha, their heads bent together intimately. The alpha keeps touching her—little gestures of affection, possession, pride. But there’s no fear in her scent, no tension in her posture. Just…contentment.
“Your alpha is very attentive.”
I startle at the voice. Another omega—older, with silver threading through her dark hair—smiles at me kindly. She gestures to Stone, who is scanning the store.
“I…he’s not…” I stammer, panic rising.
“She’s with me.” Finn steps in smoothly. “We’re redoing the nest.” He squeezes my hand. “Everything’s going to be new.”
Understanding softens the older omega’s expression. “Ah, such an exciting time.” She reaches for a particular blanket. “Try this one, dear. The texture is divine when you’re sensitive.”
My fingers brush the blanket she offers, and a small sound escapes me. The fabric is unlike anything I’ve ever felt—impossibly soft, with a slight weight that seems to sink into my bones.
“That’s the one,” Finn says decisively, adding it to our cart. “Thank you,” he tells the older omega, who beams at us both.
“Of course, dear. We have to look out for each other, don’t we?” She pats my arm gently. “But you have excellent support.” Her eyes flick between Finn and Stone. “Very excellent support.”
It’s only then that I realize she must think Finn is one of my alphas, too. When my head turns to him, he smiles and shrugs, but there’s something behind his eyes. Something sad that he pushes away as he beams at me.
As the omega moves away, I clutch the edge of the blanket, grounding myself in its texture. The store suddenly feels smaller, closer. Too many scents, too many sounds.
“Time to go?” Stone asks quietly, noting my distress.
“Just clothes first,” Finn insists. “She needs proper things to wear.” He steers us toward a section filled with racks of clothing. “Quick and easy choices, then we’re done. Promise.”
The clothing area is daunting in its variety. Styles I’ve never seen, fabrics in every color imaginable.
“Let’s start simple,” Finn suggests, pulling out soft-looking pants in a dark blue material. “Lounge pants. Comfortable but presentable. And look—” he shows me the waistband, “adjustable, like everything else we got. Flexibility is key.”
He adds several pairs to the cart, along with matching tops in soothing colors. Everything he chooses looks comfortable, unrestrictive. Nothing too tight or revealing.
“Do you like any particular colors?” he asks, holding up options.
I touch a soft green sweater, reminded of the forest beyond their house. “This…this is nice.”
“Perfect.” He adds it and similar items to our growing collection. “These are good transition pieces. Easy to layer, easy to move in. And when you’re ready for more options, we can always come back.”
A young omega brushes past us, her arms laden with bright, fashionable clothes. She smells of excitement and freedom, her voice bright with laughter. Her torn jeans would have earned severe punishment at the Academy.
“Different styles for different comfort levels,” Finn comments, noting my observation.
“What if…” I swallow hard. “What if I ever want to dress like that? ”
“Then you can.” His voice is firm. “It will always be your choice. Always.”
Stone shifts closer, his presence steady and reassuring. “Cart’s getting full,” he observes. “Anything else essential?”
Finn does a quick inventory. “I think we’ve got the basics covered. Undergarments, sleepwear, heat supplies, everyday clothes…” He turns to me. “See anything else you want to look at?”
I shake my head, feeling overwhelmed but in a different way now. The cart is filled with more possessions than I’ve owned in years. Things chosen for me, things I chose myself. Things I never knew existed, never knew I could have.
“Ready for checkout then?” Stone asks, already angling his body to shield me from the busy main aisle.
Finn plops something else in the cart I don’t recognize. “Yeah, just grab some of those scent-neutralizing candles over there. Two minutes.”
Stone nods and heads off.
The store feels different now, more crowded than before. Something, call it all that training at the Academy, makes my gaze shift to a group of alphas near the electronics section. They keep glancing our way. My fingers tighten on the cart handle, my breaths picking up. Thank god for the sunglasses or they would see how wide and panicked my eyes suddenly are.
Finn notices. As he always does. “Hey,” he murmurs, “look at this.” He holds up a soft grey scarf, deliberately positioning himself between me and their line of sight. “Good for layering, don’t you think?”
But I can’t focus on the scarf. One of the alphas has broken away from his group, moving through the aisles. Not directly toward us, but parallel, like he’s trying to cut off our path to the registers.
The scent hits me first—black pepper, thick and suffocating. Then his voice, pitched to carry: “Don’t often see two pretties like you out shopping alone.”
Finn stiffens beside me. The alpha inhales deeply, and his smile turns cruel.
“Oh,” he says softly. “Oh, now that’s interesting. I knew I was right. You’re an omega, aren’t you. A male omega playing protector.” He moves closer, blocking our path. “That’s not something you see every day.”
Finn’s hand finds mine under the pretense of showing me the scarf’s texture. His fingers are trembling slightly, but his voice remains steady. “We’re not alone.”
“No?” The alpha’s eyes glitter with malicious amusement. “Your alpha’s busy elsewhere, and you…” He leans in, making Finn flinch back. “You smell absolutely divine when you’re scared.”
My heart pounds so hard I can barely breathe. This alpha. He’s exactly like I imagined all alphas to be like. We’re in trouble. We should run. We should?—
“Step. Back.”
Stone’s voice cuts through the store like ice, but the alpha’s already reaching for me, his fingers wrapping around my wrist. His touch is acid, burning through my skin, through time?—
—hands holding me down, white coats, the smell of antiseptic?—
—“hold still, omega”—
—cold metal against my spine?—
I’m screaming. I must be screaming, but I can’t hear it over the roaring in my ears. The store dissolves into sterile walls and harsh lighting.
A crack splits the air. The grip on my wrist vanishes. Through the haze, I see Finn standing over the fallen alpha, his knuckles bloodied, chest heaving. He’s never looked less like a stereotypical omega, never looked more fierce.
“Don’t. Touch. Her.” Each word drops like shards of ice .
The alpha touches his bleeding nose, shock warring with rage on his face. The darkness that settles across his features makes some deep-seated fear rise so high within me I can no longer breathe.
He laughs and at his back, his friends move closer. Rolling their shoulders. Cracking the bones in their necks. Other shoppers edge away, and I wish we could, too.
“Hailey.” Finn’s voice breaks through the terror, gentle now. His hands hover near me but don’t touch. “You’re not there. You’re here with us. Can you feel the cart handle? The blanket?”
Stone is suddenly here. I can’t see him but his pine scent hits me, forcing calm even as terror fills my soul. I can feel his presence expanding to fill the space between us.
I’m shaking so hard I can barely stand. The fluorescent lights are too bright, too much like?—
“Look at me, sunshine,” Finn murmurs. “Just at me. Stone’s got everything else handled.”
Behind him, I dimly register Stone’s voice, low and deadly: “Your friend made a very poor choice. Now you all have exactly five seconds to walk away before I make even poorer ones.”
The alpha laughs, but there’s uncertainty in it now. “Hey, just being friendly. You can’t blame a guy for noticing such a rare specimen. A male omega? That’s quite a pet you’ve got there?—”
“You really want to do this?” Stone asks, and there’s something terrible in his calm. “Here? Now?”
“Four of us, one of you,” one of the alpha’s friends calls out. “Maybe learn to share.”
Stone smiles. It’s not a pleasant expression. “Five.”
“You can’t just?—”
“Four.”
They back away, dragging their friend with them. The alpha’s nose is still streaming blood, but his eyes are fixed on Finn with a different kind of expression now. Like he’s never seen anything like him before .
“Breathe with me,” Finn continues, his focus entirely on me despite the tremor in his own hands. “In through your nose, out through your mouth. That’s it. You’re doing so well.”
The older omega appears at his shoulder, her scent warm with concern. “Security’s called,” she says softly. “And my mates will bring your things to the vehicle. Don’t worry about the bill for now. We’ll take your details and you can pay later. Poor dear’s had quite enough shopping for one day.”
I try to focus on their voices, on the present, but the memories keep washing over me in waves. The rough grip of hands I didn’t want on my body. The sharp bite of needles. The endless training, endless submission, and the whip when I’d make a mistake…
“Finn.” Stone’s voice, closer now. “She’s going to collapse. Can I?—?”
“Careful,” Finn warns. “No sudden moves.”
Strong arms wrap around me, but slowly. Stone’s scent envelops me—pine and warmth and safety—as he lifts me against his chest. Not like that other alpha. Safe. Stone is safe. “Close your eyes, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “We’re going home.”
“My hand hurts,” Finn says suddenly, like he’s just noticing. His voice sounds young, almost surprised.
“I know.” Stone’s chest rumbles against my ear as he speaks. “You did good, Finn. Really good. We’ll ice it in the car.”
As they carry me out, I catch fragments of conversation from other shoppers:
“—never seen an omega fight like that?—”
“—did you see how fast he moved?—”
“—should press charges, that alpha clearly?—”
But it’s all distant, underwater. I press my face into Stone’s shirt and try to remember how to breathe.
The last thing I see before the store’s doors close behind us is the news screen in electronics. A grainy security image flashes across it—purple hair, defiant stance. The ticker reads: “MYSTERY OMEGA THIEF: WHO IS SHE? ”
My heart rate picks up again and Stone hums a tone in his throat, probably thinking it’s because I’m distressed. But even blurred and distorted, I’d know that purple hair anywhere. That defiant tilt of the chin. That fierce, desperate energy.
“Hailey?” Finn follows my gaze.
“Vi,” I whisper.
Finn turns sharply. “You know her?”
The image changes before I can answer, but it doesn’t matter. I’ve already seen her. Vi. Alive. Free.
Fighting back.