Chapter Two
T he bus lurched to a stop, and my stomach followed a second later. I’d arrived at the Shaker City terminal. My limbs were stiff, my mouth dry, and my scent-suppressant patch had peeled at the edges. The moment the doors hissed open I hesitated.
The city’s scent hit me like a wall. Hot pavement, diesel fumes, caffeine, and the unmistakable bite of alpha pheromones riding the air in jagged waves. It was disorienting after so long in hiding. I kept my head low, my hood up, my bag clutched tightly in my lap like it held my sanity.
You can do this, I told myself. You have to.
I drew a steadying breath before stepping off onto the cracked concrete of the buzzing terminal. People were shouting, laughing, taxis were honking, and heels were tapping.
Then I saw her. Maddie. A splash of violent ginger against the gray walls, bouncing on her toes like a child who'd been promised ice cream. Her face broke into that familiar grin when she spotted me, and something inside my chest loosened just a fraction. In a world designed to trap omegas like me, Maddie had always been my one constant, my tether to something resembling normal.
She stood just beyond the crowd, waving when our eyes met. Wearing black jeans and a slouchy gray sweater, her wild ginger curls were pulled into a loose braid behind her. She looked so casual, so confident. Like she didn’t even feel the suffocating tension that clung to me.
Relief cracked open inside my chest.
I moved toward her, one hesitant step at a time.
The moment I reached her, Maddie pulled me into a tight hug, burying her face in my shoulder. “You came,” she whispered.
“I did.” My voice caught. “I don’t know how.”
“You didn’t need to know how. You just needed to show up. And you did.”
I clung to her, letting the comfort of her presence ground me for a moment longer.
Maddie pulled back, hazel eyes scanning my face like she was memorizing it. "You look tired as hell. And skinnier. Have you been eating actual food, or just those protein bars you pretend are meals?"
I shrugged. "Been busy with rehearsals." The half-truth tasted stale on my tongue.
“You ready?”
I shook my head. “Not even close.”
Maddie laughed softly. “Good. That means it matters.”
With her hand on the small of my back, she guided me toward the sidewalk, away from the crowded station and into the busy city. Taxis flew by, horns blared, the sun beat down, and for the first time in a long while, I didn’t feel alone.
“Did you eat anything on the bus?” Maddie asked.
“Couldn’t keep anything down.”
She didn’t push, just nodded, understanding written across her face. “We’ll grab something later. Let’s get to the theater first.”
Shaker City hadn't changed, there were the same brick buildings with their peeling paint, the same coffee shop with its chalkboard specials, the same feeling of being slightly out of step with time. This small southern town existed in its own pocket of reality, where the harsher omega laws of neighboring states couldn't quite reach. Not yet, anyway.
"So," Maddie filled the silence as we walked, "tell me everything. How has training been? Did you finish your routine? Have you been out since I last saw you? Meet anyone interesting?" She waggled her eyebrows at the last question.
“Training is always brutal." I focused on the concrete beneath my feet. “Long days. Blisters on my blisters. The usual. And no, I didn't ‘meet anyone.’"
What I didn't say: I couldn't meet anyone when I didn’t dare venture outside. Not with my twentieth birthday looming like a guillotine. Three months until the state would legally force me to bond, to breed. Three months of freedom, if you could call it that.
"Someday," Maddie sighed dramatically, "you're going to let someone past those walls of yours, Summer Rayne. Maybe even me." She squeezed my arm, the gesture somehow both teasing and sincere.
"You're already closer than anyone," I admitted quietly. "Be satisfied with that."
We turned onto Main Street, and I instinctively tensed. More people meant more alphas. More alphas meant more risk, even with the suppressants dampening my scent. My fingers twisted into the strap of my bag, knuckles whitening.
Maddie noticed. She always noticed, but didn't comment. Instead, she launched into a story about her latest art installation, something involving recycled electronics and social commentary. I half-listened, grateful for the distraction as we navigated the crowded sidewalk.
"—and then the gallery owner wanted me to tone it down. Can you believe that? Like, what's the point of art if it doesn't make people uncomfortable?" She stopped mid-sentence, her posture shifting subtly.
I followed her gaze to a cluster of men outside the hardware store. Alphas. Something primitive and terrifying shivered along my spine. One of them, the tall one with a leather jacket turned as we approached, his nostrils flaring.
My scent suppressants weren't perfect. They never were.
"Well, look at this," the alpha drawled, pushing off from the wall. His eyes moved over me like invasive hands. "Don't think I've seen you around before, little Omega."
I dropped my gaze to the sidewalk, my body automatically making itself smaller. "Just passing through," I lied, my voice barely audible.
"That so?" He stepped closer, and the air seemed to thicken. "Cause I'd remember a scent like yours. Sweet, like cotton candy." His friends chuckled, and heat crawled up my neck.
Maddie stepped between us, five-foot-four of furious beta. "She said she's passing through. Your hearing broken along with your manners?"
The alpha's expression darkened. "You should teach your pet Beta some respect."
"And you should teach your knot not to rise every time you smell an Omega," Maddie fired back, her voice carrying enough to draw stares. "Or is that asking too much of your evolutionary dead-end brain?"
I tugged at her sleeve, panic rising. "Maddie, don't—"
"Listen to your Omega friend," the alpha growled, looming over us. "She knows what's good for her."
Maddie didn't flinch. She planted her feet and stared up at him with a fearlessness I'd never understand. "Back. Off." Each word was a bullet.
For a moment, I was certain he would strike her. Instead, something like grudging amusement flickered across his face. "Fierce little thing, aren't you?" He stepped aside with exaggerated courtesy. "Enjoy your stay in Shaker City, Omega. I hope it's a long one."
The threat beneath his words wasn't lost on me. I pulled Maddie away before she could respond, then exhaled.
"You shouldn't have done that," I whispered when we were a block away. "He could have hurt you."
Maddie snorted. "Please. That alpha asshole? All posture, no bite. Besides," her voice softened, "nobody talks to my best friend like that. Not while I'm around."
I swallowed the knot in my throat. "You're insane, you know that?"
"Sanity's overrated." She grinned, then pointed ahead. "Look, there it is. The Royal in all its faded glory."
The theater rose before us, an Art déco relic with its name spelled out in lights that would glow red against the night sky. Even in daylight, it had a certain haunted elegance, like an aging film star still clinging to her makeup and sequins. My heart did a complicated flutter at the sight of it.
"They've been renovating the east wing," Maddie explained, leading me toward the side entrance. "New rehearsal spaces, better dressing rooms. Nothing too fancy, the historical society would have fits but definitely an upgrade from the closet they used to put you in."
Tracing my fingers along the weathered brick, I said, "I don't care about the dressing room. I just want to dance on that stage again."
"And you will," Maddie's voice held absolute certainty.
We paused at the entrance, and I felt the weight of the dance settling on my shoulders. One performance. One chance to prove I belonged somewhere. That I was more than just an omega waiting to be claimed.
"You coming?" Maddie held the door open, framed in the rectangle of light.
I took a deep breath, feeling the fear and anticipation mingle in my veins. "Yeah," I said finally. "I'm ready."
The lie tasted like copper on my tongue as I followed her inside, leaving the afternoon sun behind.
The dressing room smelled of dust and ambition. Soft murmurs filtered in from the stage crew and performers, and the faint echo of the warm-up music pulsed through the floorboards under my shoes. Maddie flicked on the lights with a flourish, revealing walls lined with scratched mirrors and a floor that had absorbed decades of dancers' sweat. The space was larger than I remembered. It had been renovated, as Maddie had promised, but still carried that peculiar melancholy of places where dreams either soared or shattered.
"Ta-da!" Maddie spread her arms wide. "Quite the upgrade from the glorified broom closet they used to stuff you in, right? They even installed actual functioning air conditioning after Giselle Whatshername fainted during last summer's production."
I trailed my fingers along the makeup counter, noting the new lights framing the mirrors. "It's nice," I admitted. It was. But that sunken feeling within me kept on growing.
I glanced at her, my gut twisting. “What if I can’t do this Maddie? What if I freeze on stage? What if someone in the audience recognizes me?”
“Or maybe you don’t freeze? And you dance the way you used to, or even better than that? What if tonight’s the night everything starts to change?”
I stared at her. “You really think that’s possible?”
She stopped walking, looked me dead in the eyes, and said, “Summer, I know it is.”
My heart thundered. I took a deep breath and walked in, pulling out my pointe ballet shoes instead of answering. They were already broken in; the satin worn at the toes; the ribbons frayed at the edges, and like me, showing signs of use, but still functional.
"Do you need anything else?" Maddie asked, watching me arrange my things with methodical precision. "Water? Energy bar? Moral support disguised as inappropriate jokes?"
A small smile tugged at my lips. "No, I'm good. I just need to get settled."
"Right," she nodded, understanding. "I should check in with the technical crew anyway. I promised to help with the backdrop for the second act; apparently, someone thought pale blue would work under those lights, which is just criminally ignorant about color theory."
"The horror," I said dryly.
Maddie stuck out her tongue. "Mock me all you want, but your pirouettes would look like garbage against the wrong backdrop." She headed for the door. "I'll be back in an hour. Try not to stress yourself into another dimension while I'm gone."
The door clicked shut behind her, and silence expanded to fill every corner of the room. I exhaled slowly, feeling my shoulders drop. Setting my bag down, I started changing into my performance leotard, the pale pink one that reminded me of who I used to be.
I turned to face the mirror, taking inventory. My fingers found the familiar ritual of preparation: tying back my hair, touching up my makeup, adjusting my practice clothes. With each action, I pulled myself further into the identity I had crafted; Summer the dancer, not Summer the Omega. In this room, with my body obeying the ancient language of ballet, I could almost believe that the rest of it: the heats, the scent, the biology that made me valuable and vulnerable, didn't exist.
Dancing had saved me, in more ways than I could articulate. When my parents died, leaving me alone at sixteen, ballet became my shield and my weapon. The discipline required no family, no connections... just dedication and a body willing to endure pain for the rhythm of beauty.
Now, at nineteen, with my twentieth birthday approaching like an execution date, I was back in the one place that had offered me sanctuary. Shaker City's progressive mayor had created a haven for omegas fleeing stricter states, but even here, the clock was ticking. Three months until I'd be forced to bond, to breed, unless I found another way out.
I closed my eyes, centered my breathing. Not now. These thoughts belonged to another time, another place. Here, I was just a dancer preparing for tomorrow's performance.
The air shifted subtly, and my eyes snapped open.
Something primal and instinctive tightened at the base of my spine, the sensation of being watched. Hunted. I inhaled sharply, and that's when I caught it: the unmistakable musk of alpha pheromones seeping under the door.