60. Hailey
The gala is in full swing now, the hum of conversation growing louder as more and more people arrive. The space seems to pulse with energy, a mix of clinking glasses, the soft strains of the orchestra, and the low murmur of deals being made in the shadows.
Stone and Jax are in constant motion, weaving through the crowd like seasoned warriors navigating a battlefield. Every conversation is a delicate dance, every smile, handshake, and words carefully chosen. They’re working hard, harder than I’ve ever seen them, to regain their footing on the social ladder. Whatever interference the Academy caused—whatever damage they did—it’s clear that Stone and Jax are determined to overcome it.
And, somehow, it’s working.
I can see it in the way people respond to them. The lingering glances of respect, the subtle nods of acknowledgment. Even those who seemed skeptical at first are softening, their gazes warming as Jax’s quiet authority and Stone’s effortless charm start to win them over.
“They’re doing it,” Finn murmurs beside me, his voice low enough that only I can hear. His gray eyes follow Stone and Jax as they move through the room, his expression a mix of pride and relief. “Turning up here, being present—it’s working.”
I nod, my chest swelling with the same mix of emotions. Pride, relief, and something softer, something warmer, as I watch the three of them—my pack—fight to protect what’s theirs.
But even as I smile, even as I let myself feel that flicker of hope, my gaze keeps drifting.
Waiting for him .
I know I shouldn’t. I know I should be focusing on the moment, on what’s happening in front of me. But I can’t help it. My mind keeps circling back to Ren, to the empty space where he should be.
I told myself not to expect too much, not to hope too hard. But as the night drags on, as Stone and Jax continue to rebuild what the Academy tried to tear apart, I feel the weight of his absence like a stone in my chest.
“Hailey?” Finn’s voice pulls me back, and I realize I’ve been staring at the doors again.
“I’m fine,” I say quickly, forcing a smile. “Just…taking it all in.”
Finn doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t press. Instead, he squeezes my hand lightly. “You’re doing great,” he says softly, and the warmth in his voice eases some of the tension in my chest.
I nod, drawing strength from his steady presence, and try to focus on the task at hand.
But then, just as the night seems to be hitting its peak—just as Stone and Jax manage to draw a crowd of influential alphas into a conversation that could turn everything around—the air in the room changes.
It’s subtle at first, a shift so small it’s almost imperceptible. But then I hear it—the faintest ripple of murmurs, the kind that spreads like wildfire in a place like this. Heads turn, conversations falter, and the charged energy of the gala seems to freeze in place.
I follow their gazes, my breath catching as I see him.
Ren .
He steps into the room like he owns it, his presence commanding without him even trying. Gone is the scruffy, unkempt male I last saw stalking through the forest. His beard is gone, leaving his strong jawline sharp and clean, and his curly hair has been neatly trimmed into the familiar crew cut I remember from when we first met.
But it’s not just the grooming that makes him look so different. It’s the suit.
The dark, perfectly tailored fabric clings to his broad shoulders and powerful frame. He’s wearing all black. A crisp black shirt and black tie adding a touch of sophistication that only amplifies his raw, untamed energy. He looks like he doesn’t belong here—and yet, somehow, like he’s the only one who truly does.
My heart falters, a mix of emotions crashing over me so quickly I can’t sort them out. Relief. Disbelief. And something deeper, something I’m not ready to face yet.
Ren’s pale blue eyes scan the room, sharp and unrelenting as they take in every detail. And then, as if sensing my gaze, they lock on mine.
Everything else fades away.
The murmurs, the music, the crowd—it all disappears, leaving only the two of us.
He moves toward me, his steps slow and measured, like a predator closing in on its prey. People part for him without a word, their gazes flicking between him and me as if trying to piece together what’s happening.
But I don’t care. I can’t look away.
When he reaches me, he doesn’t acknowledge the others. Not Stone, not Jax, not even Finn. His attention is solely on me, his gaze softening in a way that makes my chest ache.
The way he fills out his suit should be illegal—all controlled power wrapped in tailored perfection. His scent, sandalwood and smoke, hits me like a physical force.
He stops just inches away, his towering frame making me tilt my head back to meet his eyes. And then, to my utter shock, he takes my hand in his, his touch warm and steady, and bows slightly. His lips linger just a fraction too long against my skin, and I feel the ghost of his touch long after he straightens.
“I-I didn’t think you’d come,” I whisper, voice barely audible.
Ren straightens, his pale eyes holding mine with an intensity that makes my knees weak. “I believe I made you a promise,” he says simply, his voice low and steady.
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, but before I can say anything, Ren finally turns his attention to the others.
Stone and Jax are staring at him, their expressions a mix of shock and disbelief. But it’s Finn who draws his focus.
The two of them lock eyes, the air between them crackling with unspoken tension. For a moment, no one moves, no one speaks.
And then Finn steps forward, throwing himself into Ren’s arms.
Ren catches him easily, his arms wrapping tightly around Finn as he presses his face into his neck. “I’m sorry,” Ren whispers, his voice rough with emotion. “I’m so sorry.”
Finn shakes his head, his hands gripping Ren’s shoulders tightly. “You can apologize properly later,” he says, his voice thick. “We have a lot to talk about. But not here.”
Ren nods, his expression softening as he pulls back slightly. Finn wipes his eyes quickly, his gaze flicking toward me for a moment before settling back on Ren.
For the first time in what feels like forever, I feel…whole.
I did this .
I brought him back.
For the first time in my life, I feel like I made the right decision. Like I’m helping them. Like I’m part of something bigger than myself.
It feels good.
But I should have known that something like this, this perfect life where an ‘unwanted’ omega like me can find a pack, a family, a home, was just a thing of dreams .
As the hours pass, we settle into an uneasy dance. The night is winding down, but the energy in the room remains electric, a charged hum of tension and triumph weaving through the conversations.
By now, I’ve fallen into a rhythm—watching, listening, and offering quiet reassurances when Finn glances my way. My hand brushes his arm every so often, his steady warmth a reminder that I’m not alone while Ren trails behind us, a silent shadow, his presence as commanding as it is unobtrusive.
His presence here, showing that Pack Ironwood is steady, strong, and unified, seems to make the negotiations even better.
I glance back at him once, just for a moment, and he catches my eye. The faintest flicker of a smile tugs at his lips. It’s enough to soothe the knot of nerves in my chest, at least for now.
“We’re almost through,” Finn says under his breath, leaning closer so only I can hear.
“I think it’s going well,” I reply, though my voice is quieter than I’d like. “Everyone seems…receptive.”
“They’re receptive because Jax and Stone know how to play the game,” Finn murmurs, his gray eyes scanning the room. “But this last conversation—this one’s critical.”
I nod, even though my stomach twists with unease. There’s something about the way Finn says it, the weight in his tone, that makes me feel like this moment is more important than anything else that’s happened tonight.
We move toward the far side of the room, where a small, exclusive group has gathered near the marble staircase. The air feels heavier here, the laughter quieter, more restrained. These are the power players, the ones who don’t need to flaunt their influence because it’s already understood.
Stone and Jax lead the way, their shoulders squared and their expressions carefully neutral. I follow a step behind them, walking beside Finn, who’s unusually quiet. Ren, as always, brings up the rear, his presence a silent reassurance that I cling to even as my nerves threaten to fray.
It’s not until we’re closer that I realize who we’re approaching.
It’s that woman. The one we’d seen on the TV that evening in Finn’s nest, when we were curled up watching that ridiculous dating show. Veyra Heath. The business mogul who’d been interested in Iron Fitness—the one Stone had seemed reluctant to discuss.
At first, I think she’s an omega.
It’s the way she holds herself—poised, graceful, her movements fluid and unhurried. Her presence commands attention without demanding it, and there’s something almost ethereal about the way she stands at the center of the group. She’s breathtaking, with dark eyes framed by lashes that fan her face like delicate feathers. Her sleek black dress hugs her figure in all the right ways, the fabric shimmering faintly under the chandelier’s light. Her hair, a cascade of midnight silk, frames her strong, regal features, and her smile—polite but distant—suggests a quiet, effortless power.
I’ve never seen an omega like her.
But then she speaks.
“Stone Ironwood,” she says, her voice smooth and low, like velvet over steel. “I’m surprised to see you here. I was curious to see how you’d handle…recent events.”
Her voice reaches me, and the familiar cadence strikes like a slap across the face, sharp and disorienting. My steps falter, and I barely manage to keep my balance as the sound of it echoes in my mind. It’s familiar—too familiar—and the realization is like a jolt of electricity racing down my spine.
No.
It can’t be.
I force myself to keep moving, my hand gripping Finn’s arm to steady myself as Stone responds.
“We’re handling them,” he says simply, his tone firm but respectful .
Jax steps forward then, his usual charm tempered by a quiet intensity. “We appreciate you taking the time to meet with us, Veyra. As alpha to your renowned pack, your neutrality has always been a cornerstone to our city’s stability, and we’d like to ensure that stability continues.”
Alpha.
The word lands like a second blow, leaving me breathless.
She’s not an omega.
She’s an alpha .
And now that I know, I can feel it—the weight of her presence, the subtle but undeniable way her authority fills the space around her. Female alphas are rare, almost unheard of, and standing this close to one is nothing short of surreal.
I glance at Finn, but his expression is unreadable, his gray eyes fixed on Veyra with a quiet intensity. Stone and Jax, meanwhile, seem completely at ease, their movements calm and deliberate as they hold her attention.
But I can’t focus on their words.
All I can think about is her voice, the way it lingers in the air like a memory I can’t quite place. It’s familiar in a way that makes my chest tighten, my stomach twist. I know that voice. I know it.
And then it hits me.
The Academy.
The room tilts for a moment, and I have to fight to keep my breathing steady as the memories flood back. Her voice, calm and commanding, echoing through the sterile halls. Her scent—that muted jasmine that I could always smell when she leaned too close. I didn’t know her name then. I never saw her face. But I knew the sound of her voice, the feel of her presence, the way it made my skin crawl and my heart race in equal measure.
It’s her .
The realization sends a fresh wave of anxiety crashing over me, but I force myself to stay calm, to keep my expression neutral. I can’t let her see how she affects me—not here, not now .
“Ah, you’ve never met our omegas, have you?” Jax says, his voice calm but firm. “This is Finn.”
Finn steps forward slightly, offering a polite smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. I remember how he’d reacted when we saw her on TV that evening; the way he’d commented about not wanting to get on her bad side. There was something in his tone then—a wariness that went beyond mere business caution. “Veyra,” he says smoothly. “I wasn’t in pack Ironwood at the time, but we’ve met before.”
The alpha’s dark eyes travel over Finn with a slow, assessing gaze that makes my skin crawl.
“Of course,” she purrs. “The charity gala for disadvantaged omegas, wasn’t it? How could I forget an omega like you?” The way she says it—like she’s savoring each word—sends a chill down my spine. “You made quite an impression.”
Finn’s smile remains fixed, and at my back, I suddenly feel Ren closer. I must be imagining it, but I swear I hear a low growl in his throat.
“And this,” Jax continues, gesturing toward me, “is Hailey.”
The sound of my name pulls me back to the present, and I realize too late that Jax and Stone have stepped aside, revealing me, and that all eyes are focused my way.
I step forward instinctively, my hand outstretched in a gesture of respect. “It’s an honor to meet you, Alpha Veyra,” I say, but my voice has gone almost inaudible, thin and shaky under the weight of the moment.
Her gaze flicks down to my hand, and for a moment, she doesn’t move. The silence stretches, thick and suffocating, before she finally speaks.
“You haven’t taught your omega not to touch strange alphas?” she asks, her tone light but laced with condescension. “Surely you know scent transfer is…unseemly. ”
Her words hit like a slap, and I feel my cheeks burn with humiliation. I pull my hand back quickly, my heart pounding, but I force myself to keep my expression neutral.
“I’m sorry,” I say, my voice trembling slightly. “I didn’t mean to offend.”
Her smile tightens, the curve of her lips polite but firm, the kind of smile meant to dismiss rather than welcome. Her gaze lingers on me for a moment longer than it should, her dark eyes sharp and searching, before she finally looks past me, her attention shifting back to Stone and Jax as if I’m no longer worth acknowledging.
But I can’t move.
Because now I’m certain.
It’s her.
It’s subtle, but it’s there. The faintest flicker of recognition in her expression, the way her gaze swept over me just a little too long, like she was cataloging every detail. Her smile had faltered—barely—but enough for me to notice.
And the way she dismissed me, the coldness in her voice, the sharp edge of condescension… It wasn’t just because I’m an omega.
It was calculated.
I watch her as Jax and Stone continue to speak, but I can’t hear anything. My pulse hammering in my ears as I try to piece it together. Her perfectly calm demeanor, her poised and polished exterior—it’s a mask, and I know it.
Because I remember her voice.
I remember the Academy.
And now, as I stand here, I see it in the way her fingers tighten ever so slightly around the stem of her champagne flute, the faint tension in her shoulders as she glances toward me out of the corner of her eye. She’s hiding it, but she knows exactly who I am.
The realization sends another wave of nausea rolling through me. She remembers.
She remembers me .
I…I can’t move.
Because that voice—her voice—has triggered something deep inside me.
It’s like a switch has been flipped, and suddenly I’m not standing in a grand ballroom surrounded by my pack. I’m back at the Academy, my heart racing, my stomach twisting, the sharp scent of antiseptic and fear filling my lungs.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t think.
No. No, it can’t be her. It can’t be.
Out here? In the open? Walking around others, socializing like she’s normal? It can’t be her. Doubt fills my mind.
I have to be sure.
I step forward again, ignoring the way Finn’s hand brushes against mine in a silent question. My knees feel weak, but I force myself to curtsy, the gesture small and deliberate.
The faintest trace of her scent reaches me then—jasmine, light and delicate but unmistakable. My stomach twists violently, the memories clawing at the edges of my mind.
I need to leave. Now.
“Alpha Veyra,” I say, bowing my head slightly, keeping my tone polite and measured. “If you’ll excuse me, I believe the evening’s pace has caught up with me. I wouldn’t want to risk embarrassing my pack by overstaying my welcome.”
The alpha’s lips curve faintly, her smile polite but cold, her soulless dark eyes still boring into mine. “Of course,” she says, her tone smooth, almost amused. “It’s always wise to know your limits.”
My jaw tightens, but I keep my face neutral, offering a small nod of gratitude. “Thank you for your understanding.”
I step back slowly, careful not to seem rushed or panicked, even though my heart is hammering in my chest. Finn is instantly at my side.
“Excuse us,” he says suddenly, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. He steps closer, wrapping a gentle hand around my wrist. “We’ll leave you to your discussion.”
My stomach twists violently, and for a moment, I think I’m going to pass out.
It’s her.
It’s her .
The certainty crystallizes in my mind with terrible clarity.
Widow.
I manage to keep my expression calm, though every muscle in my body feels like it’s screaming. I have to tell them. I have to let them know. But not here. Not yet. I have to wait. I have to wait until a better moment.
Finn doesn’t wait for their response. He guides me toward the far side of the room, his grip firm but not unkind. Ren follows, his presence a silent shield that I’m suddenly grateful for.
When we’re far enough away, Finn stops and turns to me, his gray eyes filled with concern. “Hailey,” he says softly, his hand brushing against my cheek. “What just happened? Talk to me.”
“I’m fine,” I lie, though my voice is unconvincing, thin and brittle. My chest feels tight, an invisible weight pressing down on me, and I force myself to look anywhere but at Finn. “It’s…nothing. Just…overwhelmed. That’s all.” I can’t tell him yet. If she’s here, socializing with these people, who knows who else is in on this? Who knows who else is affiliated with the Academy?
Finn doesn’t buy it. “Come on,” he says softly, his hand steady as he guides me toward a quieter corner of the room. Ren moves with us, his sharp eyes darting toward the other guests, scanning for potential threats as if he can sense something is wrong even without me saying a word.
Finn finds an empty chair near a side table, pulling it out for me before crouching down to meet my eye level. His hand doesn’t leave mine, grounding me even as I try to focus, to breathe, to stop the storm raging inside me .
“You need to sit down,” Finn says gently. “Take a second. Whatever it is, we’ll handle it. Just—breathe, Hailey.”
I lower myself into the chair, my legs trembling so badly I’m afraid they might give out if I don’t. My gaze flickers toward the far side of the room, where Veyra stands, regal and composed, her dark eyes now fixed on Stone and Jax as if nothing had happened. But I can still feel her focus, the weight of her presence, as if she’s completely aware of me.
I try to look away, but I can’t help it. My eyes keep drifting back to her, drawn to the very thing I should be avoiding. My heart pounds wildly in my chest, every beat echoing in my ears like a deafening drum.
Ren catches the way my gaze keeps slipping. “I’ll get you some water,” he says, keeping his voice low. He doesn’t wait for a response, slipping into the crowd with the kind of quiet efficiency I’ve come to expect from him.
“Hailey?” Finn says, squeezing my hand, pulling my attention back to him. “You’re safe. You’re with us. No one is going to hurt you here. Look at me.”
I try to focus on him, on the steady warmth in his eyes, but the walls of the room feel like they’re closing in. My breaths come faster, shallower, until it feels like I’m not breathing at all.
“I—I can’t,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “I can’t—breathe.”
Finn’s hand tightens over mine, his calm beginning to crack as panic seeps into his expression. “Hey, hey. Hailey. Focus on me. Just me. Forget everything else. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
But I don’t feel okay. I feel like I’m drowning, like there’s no air left in the room, and every breath I try to take is swallowed by the crushing weight in my chest. My fingers dig into the arms of the chair as my vision blurs, the edges of the room tilting and spinning.
Finn looks through the crowd, probably trying to spot Ren, but quickly gives up. His arm slips around my shoulders, his body shielding mine as he helps me to my feet. “Come on,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing in my ear. “Let’s get you some space.”
The room is still filled with guests, but Finn moves quickly, keeping his body between me and anyone who might see the panic written across my face. The moment we’re outside, Finn guides me toward the side of the building, away from prying eyes. The crisp air hits my skin, and I gulp it down desperately, though it doesn’t feel like enough.
“Hailey,” Finn says, his hands framing my face, forcing me to look at him. “Listen to me. You’re okay. You’re safe. Just breathe. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Just like we’ve practiced before. Come on, you can do it, sunshine.”
I try, but the words won’t come. The air won’t come. My chest heaves, my lungs burning, and tears blur my vision as I clutch his arms, trying to ground myself in the warmth of his touch.
“Talk to me,” Finn pleads, his voice trembling now. “What’s wrong? What happened back there? Was it her? Was it Veyra?”
I nod, the motion jerky and frantic, and Finn’s eyes widen slightly.
“She’s—” I choke on the words, my voice shattering under the weight of the truth. “She’s Widow. From the Academy. It’s her .”
Finn freezes, his hands gripping my arms tightly as the words sink in. His gray eyes widen, shock and disbelief flickering across his face. “What?” he breathes, the word barely audible. “Hailey, are you sure?”
I nod again, my breath hitching as a sob escapes my throat. “I’m sure,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “It’s her. I’d know her voice anywhere. I’d know her scent. It’s Widow.”
Finn’s grip tightens, his face going pale as he processes the revelation. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, his silence heavy and deafening.
And then, just as the vise around my lungs begins to loosen, allowing me to draw a full breath for the first time since the ballroom, a shadow moves at the edge of my vision. I turn, instinctively stepping back, but I’m not fast enough.
It happens in a blur—something flashes in the dim light, and Finn’s eyes widen with recognition a split second before he lunges toward me.
“Hailey, down!” he shouts, already reaching for me.
But the attacker is faster. A tall figure in black swings something heavy—a baton or pipe—catching me across the back of my skull. The impact is violent and sudden, sending me lurching forward with a choked gasp. White-hot pain explodes behind my eyes as I stagger.
Finn catches me before I can fall, his hands gripping my arms. “Hailey!” His voice cuts through the haze, sharp with panic as he pulls me against him, his body instinctively turning to shield me.
Through the blinding pain, I see the attacker circling, weapon raised for another strike. The figure is massive, face obscured by a dark mask, movements precise and practiced.
“Behind you!” I try to warn, but my voice comes out weak and garbled.
Finn spins, pushing me behind him as he raises his arm to defend against the blow already descending. The attacker feints, shifts direction, and strikes with brutal efficiency—not at Finn’s raised arm, but at his unprotected temple.
The sickening crack of the impact echoes in the stillness. Finn stumbles, his eyes wide with shock. I watch them roll over as consciousness slips away. He crumples to his knees, his hand still clutching my wrist even as he falls.
“Finn!” I scream, lunging toward him. The movement sends fresh waves of agony pulsing through my skull, but I don’t care. I reach for him, desperate to catch him, to protect him.
The attacker doesn’t hesitate. As I move toward Finn, the weapon swings toward me again. I try to duck, but my reflexes are too slow, my balance compromised by the first blow. Something cold and unyielding slams into the side of my head .
Pain bursts like firecrackers through my skull. My vision darkens at the edges, narrowing to a single point of focus—Finn’s face, slack and vulnerable, a thin trickle of blood running from his temple as he collapses fully onto the ground.
My legs give out, and I crumple beside him, my hands reaching blindly for his. Terror floods my veins, cold and paralyzing, as I try to push myself up, to crawl toward him, but my body won’t obey. My head throbs with relentless pain, and my vision wavers, the edges blurring in and out of focus.
“Stay down,” a low, cold voice growls above me.
I freeze, the sound sending a jolt of dread through me. It’s not a voice I recognize, but the malice in it is unmistakable.
I try to lift my head, to get a better look at the figure standing over me, but the pain is too much. My arms tremble beneath me, and I collapse back onto the cold, unforgiving ground.
“Don’t fight,” the voice commands, sharp and cruel.
I feel hands—rough and unkind—grabbing at my arms, dragging me up as my legs dangle uselessly beneath me. Panic surges through me, adrenaline momentarily cutting through the fog of pain as I start to thrash weakly in their grip.
“Let me go!” I choke out, my voice barely more than a rasp. “Finn! Finn, wake up!”
But Finn doesn’t stir. He’s still lying there, crumpled and motionless.
“Shut her up,” another voice hisses, this one sharper, more impatient.
A cloth is pressed against my face, and a sickly sweet smell floods my senses. I try to turn my head away, to hold my breath, but it’s no use. My body betrays me, dragging in a deep, involuntary gasp, and the world tilts violently.
My limbs go numb, the fight draining out of me as the darkness creeps in.
“Finn…” I whisper weakly, my voice fading to nothing.
The last thing I see before unconsciousness claims me is Finn’s still form lying on the ground, his face pale and peaceful, as the world blurs and disappears.
And then, there’s nothing.