11. Storm
Chapter 11
Storm
F our in the morning. Witching hour. The time when the world sleeps its deepest, and guards are at their most vulnerable.
I've been awake all night, lying on the ridiculously comfortable bed in what Jonathan called "my room" before locking me in. Asshole . As if a locked door would keep me contained for long. Please. I was picking locks before I learned to ride a bike.
The blue-gray darkness of pre-dawn filters through the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the luxurious prison I've been thrown into.
The room is bigger than my room back at the Omega House, with sleek furniture, plush carpeting, and an en-suite bathroom with an actual bath. It’s like living in a perfect, beautiful nightmare.
I hate how much I enjoyed that bath.
It’s been three hours since hearing the last footsteps in the hallway, giving them plenty of time to fall asleep. I've spent that time studying my surroundings outside the large windows. I’m not in the city center anymore, That’s for sure. I didn’t think much about the car ride and how long it took. I was trying my best not to rub myself up against Jonathan like a cat in heat.
Either way, I’m gonna find Rook.
The door lock is easy enough to pick with the underwire from my bra, skills you pick up in the foster system. The real challenge will be getting out of the penthouse undetected. I need to use the stairwell. The elevator will make too much sound.
Silently, I ease myself from the bed, already dressed in the clothes from my backpack which I didn’t even think Jonathan remembered to grab—black leggings and a dark t-shirt, not what I would have chosen, but better for sneaking than that gold top and light blue jeans from the ceremony. My bare feet make no sounds against the plush carpet as I approach the door, carefully inserting my makeshift lock pick into the mechanism.
The satisfying click of the lock disengaging sends a surge of triumph through me. Step one, complete. Jonathan Kingsley might think he's all that, but his fancy lock just got beaten by a bra underwire. I snort.
I ease the door open just enough to peer into the darkened hallway. Empty. Perfect.
The layout of the penthouse is still fresh in my mind from when Jonathan dragged me through it earlier—living area to the right, kitchen straight ahead, elevator to the left. The stairwell is my target, my way out of this gilded cage and back to Rook.
Rook. The thought of him sends a pang through my chest. Is he looking for me? Does he know what happened? Of course he does—everyone in Crescent City must know by now. The whole thing was broadcast live. That was the point, after all. Maximum chaos, maximum distraction. If only Jonathan hadn't thrown me over his shoulder like a caveman, I'd be with Rook now, halfway to freedom. Why did I assume he would put me down when we were out of view of cameras?
Focus, Storm. The stairwell first, then Rook.
I slip into the hallway, staying close to the wall where the floor is less likely to make a sound. The penthouse is eerily quiet, the only sound the distant hum of the air vents. I move carefully, one silent step at a time, past what I assume are the other bedrooms, toward the main living area.
The space opens up before me, moonlight streaming through the massive windows to cast everything in silver and shadow. I pause at the edge of the hallway, scanning for movement, for signs of life. Nothing. They must be asleep.
I smirk to myself; probably thought I was your regular old omega. One who wouldn’t know how to pick a lock and escape. I slink toward the stairwell, keeping low, moving from shadow to shadow. This is almost too easy. Like taking candy from an asshole alpha.
"Going somewhere?"
The deep voice from the darkness freezes me on the spot. Reed. Holy fuck.
A lamp flicks on, revealing the stormy-eyed alpha sitting in an armchair by the window, looking like he's been waiting for me. Which, of course, he has.
"Just getting a glass of water," I lie smoothly, straightening as if I haven't just been caught red-handed. "Thirsty." I bat my eyelashes for good measure, laying the innocent omega act on thick.
Reed's expression doesn't change, but there's a dangerous glint in those blue eyes. "The kitchen's that way." He points in the opposite direction of the stairwell. "But we both know you're not looking for water with your backpack."
I consider my options—run for the stairwell, anyway? He'd catch me before I reached it. Try to fight? Against an alpha of his size and training? Not likely. Scream for Jonathan? Hell no.
So I do what I always do when cornered. I attack.
"Wow, you caught me sneaking out. Want a medal? Or maybe a gold star for your alpha achievement chart?" I move closer to him and give him the biggest, most sarcastic grin I have ever given anyone.
"Congratulations on figuring out that someone kidnapped against her will might try to escape. Real Sherlock Holmes moment for you there, Reed."
Reed's jaw tightens slightly. The only warning that my words hit a nerve. "Sit," he says, gesturing to the armchair opposite his.
"I'd rather stand. Sitting makes my ass fall asleep. Plus, I don't really do the whole 'taking orders from alphas' thing. Personal policy and all," I sass back at him.
"Wasn't a request." The authority in his voice might intimidate someone else, but I've been dealing with entitled alphas my entire life.
"Funny, it sounded exactly like a request. Maybe try using your words instead of barking commands? I know it's hard for alphas, what with all those big, confusing words like ‘please.’" I cross my arms, shifting my weight to one hip in a stance that screams fuck you.
Reed's eyes narrow dangerously. "You can sit and talk like a civilized person, or I can wake Jonathan and let him deal with you. Your choice."
Now that's a threat. Much as I hate to admit it, Reed is probably the lesser of two evils right now. I roll my eyes dramatically and flounce over to the chair, dropping into it with all the grace of a sullen teenager. "Happy now, Alpha?"
"Ecstatic," Reed deadpans. He leans back, studying me with those unsettling blue eyes. "Where were you planning to go? To Holloway?"
"No, I was heading to the 24-hour ice cream shop down the street. Midnight cravings, you know how it is." I examine my nails with exaggerated interest.
"You know he's looking for you," Reed says, ignoring my attitude. "Been searching the city since the moment Jonathan carried you out of that theater."
My heart skips at the mention of Rook, but I keep my expression neutral. Never show weakness. Never show how much you care. That's how they hurt you.
"I met him again, you know," Reed continues. "Last week."
"What did you do to him?" The words escape before I can stop them, urgent and raw.
A small, cold smile touches Reed's lips. "Nothing he didn't recover from. Just delivered a warning to stay away from Choosing Day. Not that he listened." He tilts his head, watching me closely. "But you knew that, didn't you? You knew exactly what you were doing when you pulled Jonathan's name."
"Oh sure, my master plan was to get thrown over Jonathan's shoulder like a sack of potatoes and locked in his fancy apartment. Really living the dream here." I gesture around us with wide, sarcastic movements. "Nailed it."
"Cut the crap." Reed's voice hardens. "You rigged the lottery. You set up this whole circus. You wanted our name to come up."
I laugh then, the sound harsh in the quiet penthouse. "Why the hell would I want to be claimed by Jonathan Kingsley? The man's so uptight he probably folds his socks. I was trying to escape, not get dragged back into another prison."
Reed's eyes narrow. "Not for you. For them." He gestures toward the city below. "For the beta-born alphas who are currently tearing apart the elite districts. For the rebellion you sparked when you pulled our name on live television."
I blink, momentarily thrown off balance. "What?"
"Don't play innocent," Reed says, his voice low and dangerous. "It was the perfect spark—corruption at the highest level, the head of the Omega House claiming a beta-born omega from his own lottery, breaking every rule the system is built on. And you made sure the whole city saw it happen."
Understanding dawns slowly. "You think I planned this? That I wanted to start a rebellion?" I let out a snort of disbelief. "Reed, you're giving me way too much credit. I'm not exactly playing chess over here."
"Aren't you?"
"Look, I know this might shock your alpha sensibilities, but not everything revolves around you and your pack. I chose Jonathan's name because you live closest to the theater. That's it. Geography, not politics." I lean forward, emphasizing each word. "I was planning to slip away in the confusion, meet Rook, and be halfway to freedom before anyone noticed."
Something shifts in Reed's expression. A flicker of surprise quickly masked. "You're serious."
"As a heart attack." I make an X motion over my chest. "Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in your eye, and all that jazz."
For a long moment, Reed doesn't speak, just watches me with those assessing eyes. When he finally breaks the silence, his voice has an edge I can't quite place. "Then you've made a colossal miscalculation, Little Beta."
The old nickname—the one he used before I presented as an omega—sends a shiver down my spine. I bristle at it anyway. "Don't call me that. I'm not your 'little' anything."
He ignores me. "Because what you've started? It's not going to end with your freedom. It's not going to end with you and Holloway riding off into the sunset. It's going to end with blood in the streets and a system in ruins. And you'll be right at the center of it all."
The weight of his words sinks in slowly, reality crashing down on me with crushing force. I hadn't thought beyond my escape, beyond reaching Rook. I hadn't considered the wider implications, the ripple effects of what I'd done.
"Well, shit," I say finally, trying to hide how rattled I am behind flippancy. "If I'd known I was going to start a revolution, I would've worn a better outfit."
Reed doesn't smile. "This isn't a joke, Storm."
"No kidding. My sense of humor tends to evaporate when I'm kidnapped by alphas and held against my will. Weird, right?" I cross my arms defensively. "What do you want me to say? 'Oops, my bad for accidentally starting a rebellion while trying to escape forced bonding?' Sorry, fresh out of apologies over here."
"Jonathan doesn't want you as his omega," Reed says bluntly. "None of us do. You're a complication we didn't ask for and don't need."
The words sting more than they should. I've spent four years hating Jonathan, wanting nothing to do with him or his pack. So why does Reed's dismissal feel like a slap?
"Well, that makes two of us, Stormy Blue Eyes. So let me go." I stand up, hands on hips. "If I'm such an unwanted hassle, just open the door and point me toward the exit. I promise not to send a thank-you card."
Reed laughs, but there's no humor in it. "It's not that simple."
"It's exactly that simple. Door, me, goodbye. Even an alpha should be able to grasp that concept."
"You saw the chaos at the ceremony," Reed says, rising to stand over me, using his height in a classic alpha intimidation tactic. Nice try, buddy. "Jonathan publicly claimed you in front of the entire city. If he rejects you now, it undermines the whole system. And more importantly, it makes him look weak. The alpha who couldn't control his own omega."
"So I'm trapped here because of his fucking pride?" My voice rises with indignation. "What is this, the dark ages? 'Me alpha, you omega, ugh ugh'?" I grunt and beat my chest in a Neanderthal impression.
"You're trapped here because of choices you made," Reed corrects, voice hard. "And I'm stuck dealing with the fallout until Jonathan figures out a way to fix this mess."
"Oh, I'm sooo sorry this is inconvenient for you," I shoot back, voice dripping venom. "Here I was thinking being forcibly claimed against my will was bad, but clearly your discomfort is the real tragedy here."
I glare up at him, refusing to be intimidated by his height or his scent or his alpha-ness. "What if I ran? Just disappeared? He could say I escaped—wouldn't damage his precious pride."
Reed's eyes flash. "You really think Holloway could keep you hidden? From Jonathan? From the authorities? From everyone who's looking for the omega who sparked a city-wide rebellion?"
Put that way, it does sound na?ve. I know Rook would try—he'd do anything for me—but against the full rebellion? Against the entire system? My scent would give me away every time. Not enough blockers in the world can hide it.
"He'd die trying," Reed adds, his voice matter-of-fact. "And you know it."
The thought of Rook dying because of my mistake makes my blood run cold. I can't let that happen. I won't.
"Fine," I snap, hating the surrender in my voice. "I'll stay in this alpha bachelor pad from hell. For now . But I'm not playing house with you guys, and I'm certainly not wearing any frilly aprons or baking cookies or whatever twisted omega fantasy you're all harboring."
Reed's lips twitch, almost like he's suppressing a smile. "Wouldn't dream of asking. I've seen your attempt at cooking."
I narrow my eyes, surprised he knows about my legendary inability to make anything more complicated than toast. "You've been watching me for years, haven't you? Through the Omega House cameras. Creepy much?"
"Security protocol," he says, but his eyes shift away briefly. Fuck. Has he been watching me in the mornings? Was it Reed and not Jonathan behind the lens of that camera? I try to calm my racing heart. I don’t know what’s worse.
Reed sighs, clearly tired of our little chat. "Back to your room."
"What's stopping me from trying again tomorrow night? Or the next?" I challenge, not moving an inch. "You can't stay awake forever, Reed Howard."
"Nothing," Reed says simply. "Except the knowledge that every time you try to escape, you put Holloway at greater risk. And I don't think you want his blood on your hands."
The words twist like a knife in my gut because he's right. I'd do anything to protect Rook, even if it means staying here, even if it means playing their game. For now.
"Has anyone ever told you that you suck at pep talks?" I say, but the fight is draining out of me.
Reed almost smiles again. "It's come up once or twice."
He escorts me back to my room, watching as I step inside. Just before he closes the door, I turn to face him. "I really didn't know what would happen," I say, not sure why I care what he believes. "I wasn't trying to start a rebellion. I was just trying to get back to Rook."
Something flickers in Reed's eyes, but before I can decipher it, he speaks. "Get some sleep, Storm. Tomorrow's going to be a long day."
"Yeah, being held hostage really takes it out of a girl," I quip, but my heart isn't in it anymore.
The door closes with a soft click. The lock engaging. I stand there for a long moment, staring at the barrier between me and freedom, the weight of reality crushing down on me.
I fucked up. Badly. And now Rook is in danger because of it.
I move to the window, staring out at the city lights spread below like stars fallen to earth. Somewhere out there, Rook is looking for me, probably putting himself at risk. The thought makes me sick with worry.
I need to find a way out of this mess. Not by running. That's too dangerous now, for both of us. I need a different approach.
Jonathan doesn't want me here. Reed certainly doesn't. Even I don't want to be here. There has to be a solution that satisfies everyone. A way to release me from this claim without making Jonathan look weak, without endangering Rook.
I pace the room, mind racing. Jonathan is the key. If I can convince him to let me go, to find some politically acceptable way to release his pack’s claim.
I curl up on the bed, not to sleep but to think, to plan. I've made a terrible mistake, but I refuse to accept that this is the end. There's always a way out. Always an angle. Always a solution.
I just have to be smart enough to find it. And I am one thing above all else, a survivor. Always have been, always will be.