Chapter Twenty-Nine
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
DRIVING INTO NEW York City after work is terrible. As much as I love the nightlife here, I will take Starburgh traffic any day of the week.
I am meeting my omega mentor, Ayla, for dinner. The bistro she chose is adorable. Round marble tables and white steel chairs sit on the sidewalk. A long bench designed with the same pattern as the chairs runs from the side doors to the front corner. Each chair and bench has patterned cushions affixed to it, adding a pop of color.
It is social media worthy, which is precisely why she chose this spot. Ayla has made a living with her travel blog, ‘An Omega’s Search For Fate’, earning a decent following and enabling her to live comfortably without a pack.
She’s also one of the many omegas who had a Fated connection manifest at the age of twenty-one and is waiting until she meets them instead of settling with a chosen pack. We’ve lamented her long wait many times over the three years we’ve known each other.
How she hasn’t given up after almost a decade of patience, I don’t know. I can barely handle waiting a few months for my mates to get their heads out of their asses, let alone years!
“Bea! You look incredible!”
I give Ayla a little spin, showing off my periwinkle shorts and matching blazer. Soulbound may have air conditioning, but even their system struggled to combat today’s high nineties heat.
“Me? Look at you!” Ayla’s style is what I would describe as fantasy chic. She always dresses like she’s going to traipse through a forest and wander into another realm. Her white, puff sleeved dress has light blue floral details. The fabric sweeps around her calves while dipping low on her chest. It exudes sensual innocence.
“Sit, sit! We have so much to catch up on!”
I take the seat across from her. A server comes to take our drink orders, leaving us with menus to look over.
“Tell me everything! I’ve missed a lot since you graduated in May!”
Smiling, I dive into a brief recap of life on tour, Omen’s identity being outed, and chasing my dreams as a band manager. Ayla is attentive, dancing in her seat and cheering my successes.
“That sounds wonderful!” she says as our drinks are dropped off. We pause long enough to place our orders, but as soon as the server walks away, she’s bombarding me with follow-up questions. “What happened between you and those gorgeous bodyguards you mentioned?”
My bottom lip pushes into a pout. I miss Ridley like crazy. It’s only been a week since he left, but my chest feels hollow without him by my side. “It turns out they are my Fate matched mates.”
Faster than I can blink, I’m pulled into a tight hug. “Oh my gosh, Bea! That’s amazing!”
Giving her a tight smile, I shake my head. “It is, but it’s also very complicated. They were called away for work, and I don’t know how long they will be gone.”
She gives me an understanding nod. Omegas aren’t built for separation. It’s hell on our instincts to go without our mates after we’ve met them. Her head tilts in consideration. “You don’t seem to be struggling.”
Sighing, I tell her about Orion and our date the night before. When she learns he too is leaving for a few weeks, she lets out an indignant huff. “Fate really seems determined to test your mettle! I’m sorry you are in this situation. Hopefully, your mates will return soon.”
I switch gears as our food arrives, asking about her life. She spent the summer traveling across Europe searching for her future pack. Unsuccessfully, if the sadness in her light brown eyes tells me anything.
Dinner is light and fun, despite both of our longing for our mates. We laugh and catch up. It’s exactly what I needed after the hell the past few weeks have been.
“Thank you, Ayla! If you aren’t traveling for a while, we should do this again!” I tell her as I hug her.
Her arms tighten around me before she pulls away. A sheepish look takes over her face. “I am leaving again, actually. I, uhm, I signed up for First Glance Pack.”
My jaw drops. “You-“
I am a jumble of mashed words as I try to get past the initial shock. “You’re not going to wait for your Fate matched mates?”
Ayla’s eyes are so full of heartbreak, it guts me. “I’ve waited almost a decade,” she says with a shrug. “If I wait any longer, it may be too late for me to see my pack dreams brought to life. I know I’ll always wonder if they’re out there somehow, but I’ve also come to terms with it. Fate doesn’t want our paths to cross.”
“Oh, Ayla.” Tears brim along my lashes, but I blink them away. If I start crying, she will too, then we will both be blubbering messes in the middle of the bistro.
“It’s okay, you know? Not everyone is blessed by Fate, and even those of us who are don’t always get to find our happily ever after. I can build a new future with whatever pack I meet on the show.”
The way she’s twisting her hands tells me she isn’t fully confident in this plan. Year after year of searching has to be wearing down on her. I don’t fault her for giving up. Fate may lay paths for us to walk, but it is our decisions that guide us down them. Perhaps her Fate Matched mates have diverged down a path leading them away from her.
“You deserve all the happiness this world can bring. I’m always here if you need support too,” I remind her.
With one final hug, we part ways. My heart feels heavy, concern eating at me as I think of all the tangled fates around me. It’s a universal truth that happiness is never guaranteed in this life. We have to work for it.
Stepping out onto the sidewalk, I realize I need to pee. Trying to wait until I get home will be a disaster, so I head inside of the bistro. Weaving through the tables, I’m startled to see Shiloh sitting in one of the booths. A little girl, probably three or four, stands on the seat beside him, hanging off of his arm and peppering him with endless questions. My ovaries weep, seeing him smile softly down at her.
Glancing up, his eyes find mine. They widen as he looks me over. I am very aware of his attraction to me. It’s definitely mutual. Everything outside of the physical pull between us is where things get complicated.
The man sitting across from him turns to see what has caught his friend’s attention. Seeing the same nose and coffee-colored eyes, I assume this must be Shiloh’s brother. His voice isn’t necessarily loud, but I hear his words clearly as he asks my boss if he knows me.
My breath freezes in my lungs as I wait for his answer. I don’t know why this moment matters so much, but it does. Our future seems to hinge on his response. I expect a professional brush off, some polite explanation about working for Soulbound. What I don’t expect is to be swept under the rug completely.
“No, I do not know her.”
Emotion jolts down my spine, making my shoulders curl inward. An instinctive reaction to his perceived rejection. The mixture of embarrassment and hurt his words cause has my heart thudding painfully against my ribs.
I truly am nothing to this alpha. Aren’t I?
Whatever pull exists between us frays, one harsh word away from snapping. Ayla’s words have never felt truer- sharing a Fated connection doesn’t always mean you’re guaranteed a happy ending.
Closing my eyes, I gather every ounce of strength I possess. When I open them again, the badass woman I pretend to be is back in her rightful place. Fuck Shiloh Acherley. He may be my boss, but he holds no power over me outside of work.
Strutting past their table, I don’t look at him. He made his choice. I won’t belittle myself by hanging onto his reaction.
Reticence and apprehension, the masks I’ve grown accustomed to wearing since the hospital released Omen. Watching her wither, growing weaker as she aimlessly shuffles around our tiny apartment, is testing my limited patience. My frustration only increases when I remember each of my Fate matched mates has abandoned me for one reason or another.
Which is precisely why we are sitting on the balcony of a New Jersey concert venue. For a few hours, we can pretend the outside world doesn’t exist and get lost in the hypnotic siren’s call that is Candy Courage’s music. I dance in my seat as the stage lights up in familiar shades of pink and purple. Omen sits beside me, a tentative but exhausted smile on her face. She was reluctant to attend, but I wasn’t taking no for an answer. Being a rejected omega doesn’t mean she gets to give up on the wonderful life ahead of her.
Foster catches my eye from her other side, raising one thick brow before he shakes his head. Him being here is also part of the reason Omen agreed to come. She can’t tell us both no, not when she hasn’t seen our other best friend in a few months with being on tour, then in hiding.
The girls of Candy Courage take the stage and I whoop loudly with the crowd. The VIP passes around our necks ignite a small spark of hope in my chest. If my Fate matched mates won’t stick around, maybe I can convince these gorgeous alphas to claim me instead.
Hypnotic beats and soul-reaching screams fill the venue, echoing through my body and draining all of my worries. Getting lost in the lyrics, it’s easy to forget the heartache pulsing in time with each beat of my heart. Loneliness doesn’t weigh as heavily when Azalea’s voice is lifting me up.
My joy comes crashing down when they announce a surprise guest. Of course, Primordial Covenant would be here. They’ve been trying to talk to Omen since her televised encounter with her father. Not that their attempts have been successful. I blocked them at every turn.
When they turned their backs on my bestie, I promised they would never get another chance with her, and I meant it. She deserves better than weak men who assume the worst of her.
“We can leave,” I offer as the show ends. It will suck to walk away when I could meet my idols, but if that is the price I have to pay to keep Omen away from those assholes, I will gladly pay it.
Her head shakes, a resolve straightening her shoulders that brings proud tears to my eyes. She’s so fucking strong. It really sucks that I cannot lessen the weight she carries. Foster gives me a sharp nod from behind her, his eyes slightly narrowed. He doesn’t agree with my attempts to keep Omen’s Fate matched mates from her. Sure, bonding with her mates is an infallible plan to bring her chemical rejection to an end and stop her from spiraling, but until we’ve exhausted every other option to save her, it isn’t worth the risk of them hurting her further.
Unfortunately, it isn’t my call to make. Only Omen can decide if she will give them a second chance.
Grumbling beneath my breath, I grab her hand and lead us to security. They scan our badges and we join the line of VIPs waiting to see the band. We’re the last to be called into the room, which I know is intentional. As much as I love Candy Courage, I can’t help but feel a little salty that they helped to set this meeting up.
When we finally step into the room, my nose immediately itches. Their scents are all soft and floral, matching their names. Blended together, they smell like a spring garden. A scent that is much too sweet for me. My life would be easier if I could become enamored with their scents and join their pack, but Fate has decided that isn’t an option. Naturally.
If only one of my actual Fate matched mates—preferably one who actually enjoys my company—stayed with me. The longing in our connection has me crying at the drop of a hat, and that isn’t good for my boss bitch energy.
Focusing back on the magnificent band before me, I let my inner fan girl loose. Might as well enjoy this meeting, even if I’m a little sad we’re incompatible.
When their security team lets them know it is time to call it a night, I feel Omen tense beside me. Part of me wants to demand we leave now, before Pack Graves can step into this room and do more damage to my fragile bestie, but a sharp look from Foster reminds me that isn’t my call to make. Crossing my arms over my chest, I plaster my most spiteful expression on. Let these bastards try to tear Omen down. I will destroy their career before burying them alive. Fucking assholes.
Someone knocking on my nest door pulls me from the clutches of sleep. Stumbling into my bedroom, I jolt when something crashes against our front door. What the fuck is happening?!
Crouching, I slip through my bedroom door and hurry into Omen’s. The glow of her phone from the side draws my attention to where she’s sitting with her head on her knees. Dark circles line her eyes, and the sunken shape of her cheeks makes my stomach roll. She somehow looks even worse than she did before we went to the concert. I knew I shouldn’t have let those jerks in Pack Graves see her.
Foster had pulled me out of the room in the middle of their so-called apology when I tried to call them on their shit. Whatever half-assed excuses they came up with after I left must have been more draining for Omen than she let on. Sinking onto the floor beside her, she pulls the screen away from her ear so I see she called the police. I lean my head against her shoulder, needing the comfort of physical contact to calm my growing anxiety. The 9-1-1 operator’s responses are muted, but the sound still helps to calm me.
Several minutes later Omen shifts away, pulling me to my feet on her way to the living room. I blink several times to clear the sleep from my eyes before noticing the red and blue lights outside of the window. Oh, the police are here. Good.
I follow her to meet them at the door, flinching when the officer points out the broken piece of our reinforced door. My instincts are going haywire, panic building in my stomach.
Someone tried to break into our apartment.
Were they after Omen? After her father was arrested and his cult was dismantled, we thought the threats against her were gone.
“While your security measures seem strong enough to stand if the attacker returns, it would be best for the two of you to stay elsewhere for the next couple of days.”
My mind sluggishly follows the officer’s words, a thank you numbly slipping from my lips before he steps back outside. Omen grabs our suitcases as I finally catch up to what is happening. Usually, we would go to my parent’s house, but no one is home. We’d be just as vulnerable in my childhood home as we are here.
“Where are we gonna go?”
She stops and stares at me for a beat before swearing. “I’ll call Donovan.”
Grabbing my suitcase, I carry it in and drop it onto my bed. My back hits the comforter beside it while I wait to see what the leader of the DAU has to say. Hopefully, they can spare some bodyguards to house sit us until the police figure out who tried to break in.
Omen pokes her head back in several minutes later, letting me know we have to go to Donovan’s for the night. A frustrated sigh slips from my lips as I force myself to my feet. It takes half an hour for our ride to get here, which gives me enough time to pack enough outfits for the week and cram my makeup inside.
It’s nearly five in the morning when we crash in Donovan’s spare rooms. I’m so tired I can barely keep my eyes open long enough to pull back the stiff blankets. Last night went from the highlight of my year where I got to meet my idols, to being forced from my home.
What fresh hell will tomorrow bring?
“Good morning, Bea.” Donovan’s beta partner, Natasha, is sitting in their kitchen when I find my way downstairs. The willowy beta is a blessing as she directs me to their coffee pot and a cabinet of mugs.
Her partner walks in before I can sit down, directing us into their sitting room to wait for Omen. I’m antsy as I sit cross-legged in a large armchair. With my job, I can’t go into hiding at a safe house, so what am I going to do?
“I’ve spoken with your parents,” Donovan says, turning his body so he is facing me. “Unfortunately, they are assisting with recovery operations in New Hampshire for the foreseeable future.”
Nodding, I slump against the cushions. I assumed as much, but was hoping one of them would be able to return, even for a few days.
“After careful consideration, and a call to the FCDA, we have found somewhere for you to stay until the intruder is caught. Your boss at the label, Shiloh Acherley, lives in an esteemed apartment building with high end security. He has agreed to take you under his protection.”
I’m speechless. Of all the places they could send me, staying with Shiloh was never a possibility I entertained. He acts like my existence is a nuisance to him half the time, so how am I supposed to trust him to keep me safe? Any alpha off the street could walk up and claim me, and Shiloh would happily shove me into someone else’s arms.
“No way-“
“This isn’t a discussion, Bea. You will stay with Shiloh, and he will be responsible for your wellbeing until the threat against you has been taken care of.” Donovan’s voice is stern, some of his alpha presence leaking into his tone and demanding my compliance.
I cross my arms over my chest and glare at him. This is ridiculously unfair! My life is already being turned upside down by the break in, shoving me into an apartment with a man I don’t trust is just adding salt to an open wound.
Omen chooses this moment to appear. She’s clinging to the walls as she shuffles down the stairs. Dark circles ring her dull green eyes. My chest aches seeing how lifeless she looks. As loathe as I am to say it, I know Donovan is going to send her to Pack Graves. Being in their presence will curb the worst of the rejection.
Even if they don’t deserve to be blessed with a single second of her time.
She collapses in on herself when Donovan confirms my suspicion. Hearing she’s being forced to let her Fate matched mates protect her can’t be easy. I may not trust Shiloh with my heart, but at least his actions haven’t caused me physical harm. Not like the misery Pack Graves’ rejection has caused Omen.
The drive into Starburgh is spent in silence. Each of us lost in thought. The sleek building we pull up to screams wealth and class. Of course Shiloh lives here. Where else would my stylish, uptight boss call home?
Donovan helps me with my suitcase, riding up the elevator to the top floor with me. We step into a hallway with only two doors. The one on the left opens and Shiloh’s familiar face greets us. His eyes scan me from head to toe, a smidgen of relief flashing in his eyes when he finds me unscathed.
“Mr. Acherley.” Donovan offers him a hand to shake.
I grab the handle of my suitcase from his other hand and step around them both. Shiloh scowls as I duck beneath his arm and walk into his apartment. My shoes are toed off by a fancy table in the entryway, and I leave my stuff in a pile beside them.
This place is insane. The view alone is worth the price he must pay to live here. I can see all of Starbugh spread out below us. Whatever glass the building architects used must dull the sound from outside, though, because there is a blissful lack of traffic noise.
An open concept living room and kitchen area makes up most of this corner of the apartment. It’s all dark hardwoods and stainless steel fixtures. His kitchen is so clean I wonder if he’s ever used it. He seems like a takeout kind of guy.
Buttery soft leather couches sit caddy corner in the living area. I sink into one, still exhausted from the chaos of the night before. Maybe I should ask Shiloh where he got his couches. I would love to have one of these in my nest.
“I see you’ve made yourself at home.”
Groaning, I turn my face into the soft material and pretend like I cannot hear him. I may be forced to co-inhabit his space for a few days; that doesn’t mean we are suddenly on good standing. The ground beneath our feet shattered ice, one second away from splitting and sending us both crashing into frigid waters.
“Ignoring me is quite childish, but if you refuse to speak, fine. You can listen instead. While you are staying here, you will pick up after yourself. I do not tolerate messes.”
I can hear his feet hitting the floor as he paces by the windows behind me. The sound is oddly comforting. Almost rhythmic. What a weird thing to be soothed by.
“Your work schedule is being adjusted to match my own so that I may drive you to and from the office each day. If you have any outside appointments that cannot be rescheduled, forward them to me in an email, so I may add them to my calendar.”
Sleep makes my eyes heavy, and my body relaxes at the sound of his voice. I feel like I am floating as he continues to lay down the rules for my stay, drifting to dreamland made of sunny shores and gently lapping ocean waves. It’s been so long since I caught a hint of his amber and white sand scent, I’d forgotten how wonderful he smells.
Something fluffy lands on my shoulders, tickling my cheek for a few brief seconds before it is tucked around my neck. I burrow deeper into the feeling. My mind supplies the knowledge that Shiloh has wrapped a blanket around me, and I faintly wonder why he even cares. The thought floats away on the ocean breeze, leaving me to enjoy my temporary vacation from reality.