Chapter Three
A n alpha stood in the doorway. Tall, broad-shouldered, too polished. His navy suit fit like it had been tailored for his arrogance. He didn’t bother to knock, didn’t bother to look away from me as his eyes dragged lazily down my form and back up again.
My body reacted before my mind could process it: heart speeding up, pupils dilating, a thin sheen of sweat materializing along my hairline. The suppressants in my system fought against the automatic response, but they were designed to mask my scent, not protect me from others.
“Well,” he drawled, walking in and shutting the door behind him, “you’re not on the program, are you?”
I froze, my blood turning to ice. “I—I think you have the wrong room.”
“Don’t think I do.” He stepped closer, the scent of expensive cologne failing to mask the sharp edge of alpha musk curling beneath it. “Summer. That’s your name, right?”
My stomach twisted.
He knew my name.
“I... please leave,” I said, forcing steel into my voice.
He grinned. “I heard we had a new principal dancer, but nobody mentioned she'd be so... delicious.” His voice slid across the room like oil on water.
I stepped back, my hip bumping against the makeup counter. "This is a private dressing room," I said, aiming for authoritative but landing somewhere near breathless. "Performers only."
"I'm on the board of directors, sweetheart. Every room in this theater is mine to enter." He smiled, showing too many teeth. “Relax,” he said, lifting his hands in mock innocence. “I’m just here to watch the show. Though...” His gaze flicked to my legs, long and bare below the leotard. “You've already started giving me a private one.”
"I was just leaving to rehearse," I lied, glancing at my bag, calculating if I could reach it before he blocked my path. My phone was inside. Not that calling for help would do much good. In this city, as in every city, Alphas could do what they wanted when approaching unbonded omegas.
"No rush." He moved closer, nostrils flaring. "I just wanted to introduce myself to our star attraction. We don't get many Omega dancers here. Most lack the... discipline." His eyes traveled down my body with invasive precision. "But you look very disciplined indeed."
My skin crawled beneath his gaze. I recognized his type. The kind of alpha who viewed omegas as collectibles, acquisitions to display and consume. The room suddenly felt airless, his scent overwhelming the space between us.
"I appreciate your welcome," I managed, edging sideways toward the door, "but I really should..."
"You're wearing suppressants," he interrupted, frowning. "Rather heavy ones, I'd guess. That's... disappointing." He took another step, and my back hit the wall. "I bet you smell divine underneath all that chemical camouflage."
Panic fluttered in my throat. "Please... just leave..."
"Don't worry," he murmured, close enough now that I could feel the heat radiating from him. "I'm not some uncultured Alpha who can't control himself. I just want a little taste of what the audience will be missing tonight." His hand rose toward my face.
I flinched, turning my head away. "Don't touch me."
Something darkened in his expression. "You know," he said, voice hardening, "for an Omega in your position, you might want to consider being more... accommodating. Careers like yours depend on patronage, and I'm very influential in the arts community."
The threat hung between us, explicit in its implication. My throat constricted, chest tightening. This was the reality beneath every achievement, every moment of freedom... the knowledge that my biology made me vulnerable to men like him.
"I believe my friend said don't touch her." Maddie's voice cut through the tension like a knife.
She stood in the doorway, arms crossed, her small frame vibrating with righteous fury. Behind her loomed the bulky silhouette of a security guard.
The alpha straightened, irritation flashing across his features before settling into a calculated charm. "Just welcoming our star," he said smoothly. "No harm in that."
"Fascinating," Maddie replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Because from where I'm standing, it looked a lot like harassment. Which, as I'm sure an esteemed board member knows, violates about six theater policies and at least two state laws."
He laughed, the sound empty of humor. "You've got quite the watchdog, haven't you?" His eyes slid back to me. "Fine." He adjusted his jacket, retreating toward the door with deliberate slowness. "I'll be watching your performance, Summer Rayne. I always get excellent seats. Front row, and center. Close enough to really... appreciate the dancers."
He brushed past Maddie, who stood her ground despite being half his size. The security guard stepped aside reluctantly, clearly uncomfortable confronting someone of the alpha's status.
When he was gone, my legs finally gave way. I sank into the nearest chair, hands trembling against my thighs. I sat shaking, and wrapped my arms around myself, cold despite the heat rising in my cheeks and neck.
Maddie was at my side in an instant. "That absolute scumbag," she spat. "Are you okay? Did he hurt you? Because I will absolutely end his entire existence if he laid a finger on you."
“He knew my name,” I whispered, the words barely forming.
I shook my head, trying to find my voice again. "I'm fine. He just... got too close." The half-truth tasted bitter. "Who was he?"
"Dylan Jones," Maddie said, the name like a curse on her tongue. "Old money, older entitlement. Donated enough to the theater to get his name on a plaque and thinks it gives him ownership rights to the talent." She crouched in front of me, taking my icy hands in her warm ones. "I'm so sorry, Summer. I shouldn't have left you alone."
"It's not your fault," I said automatically. "You can't be my bodyguard 24/7."
"Watch me try," she muttered darkly, then squeezed my hands. "We should report him."
I laughed, the sound hollow and tired. "For what? Being creepy? Coming too close? You know how that ends for Omegas, Maddie. They'll say I was sending signals, that he was just responding to biology. They always do."
The truth of it settled between us like dust. No matter how progressive this city claimed to be, some things remained unchanged. Omegas were still perceived as inherently seductive, responsible for the reactions they allegedly provoked in alphas.
Maddie's face hardened. "Then we'll handle it ourselves. I know the stage manager. We can make sure he doesn't get anywhere near you during your performance. Extra security will be posted outside your dressing room, and escorts between scenes."
I nodded, too drained to argue, though we both knew it was a Band-Aid on a bullet wound. As long as I remained an unbonded omega, as long as men like Dylan Jones held power, no amount of security could keep me safe.
"I should practice," I said finally, needing to move, to lose myself in the one thing I could control. "The performance is tonight, and I haven't danced on that stage in years."
Maddie studied my face, concern etched in the furrow between her brows. "Are you sure? We could go back to my place, watch terrible movies, pretend the world doesn't suck."
"I'm sure." I stood steadier now, determination replacing fear. "I didn't come all this way to let some Alpha chase me away from what I love."
The words sounded braver than I felt, but Maddie's smile made the lie worth it. "That's my girl," she said, helping me gather my things. "Let's go remind everyone why you're the star of this show."
I followed her out into the hallway, ignoring the lingering scent of alpha that clung to my clothes like a threat.
THE STAGE LIGHTS BLINDED me at first.
Velvet curtains parted like the peeling back of my soul, exposing every fragile piece I’d fought to protect. The theater was cavernous, the hush before the music thick with expectation. I couldn't see if anyone was watching. There was just... darkness, a yawning pit of silence. But the tremor snaking its way up my spine told me someone was there. I felt their eyes. His eyes, somewhere in the black.
My heart pounded hard against my ribcage, like it wanted out. My limbs trembled, blood thrumming in my ears as I took my position center stage. Everything about this moment felt too big. Too much. And this was only my rehearsal.
The music began and soft piano notes threaded through the tension. I lifted my arms. My first step was off. Just slightly, but enough to jar me.
A second step flowed too late.
My heel wobbled, my balance slipped, and my body jolted to a halt, as if refusing to move forward. I stood there, frozen in the spotlight like prey. The music played on. Time fractured. For a split second, I thought about fleeing. Again.
The silence was deafening. Then— breathe. I forced one in. Deep and steady. My lungs expanded with it; my muscles unlocked. I closed my eyes and moved.
Like breaking the surface of cold water, my body surged forward into the dance. I surrendered to the music, to the pain of who I used to be. The past fell away as my movements sharpened, flowed, and exploded with life.
I was dancing again.
Really dancing.
Not hiding. Not surviving. Living.
My arms carved through the air like wings. My legs extended with power, grace, and fury. Every pain, torment, and memory blurred from my mind as I spun, leapt, and reached with everything I had. For the first time in three years, I felt free.
The music coiled around my feet, vibrating through the worn floorboards, up my legs, into my core. And then the vibration changed. Deepened. The cello's low notes stuttered as the first tremor rolled through the theater like a wave of water.
And then... the world cracked.
The stage lurched beneath me, a living thing trying to shed me from its back. Above, the lighting rig swayed, shadows whipping across the stage like angry spirits.
A low rumble rolled through the stage beneath my feet. At first, I thought it was a trick of nerves or adrenaline. But the tremble grew.
I faltered mid-pirouette, my ankle wobbling against the sudden shift. Backstage, someone screamed as a light crashed to the floor. Voices echoed through the theater, a ripple of whispers against the backdrop of Tchaikovsky. Something was wrong.
The tremor turned into a roar.
I stumbled mid-pirouette, arms flailing for balance as the floor beneath me heaved. The ground rippled. Wooden planks groaned and splintered apart like they were being pulled down into hell. The spotlight shattered above me with a pop, glass raining down like ice.
"Earthquake!" someone yelled, the word echoing through the theater as the initial shock gave way to understanding.
I froze, caught between training and instinct. The red velvet curtain swayed like a drunk, its heavy folds rippling with unnatural motion.
The next jolt hurled me backward. My ballet shoes scrabbled for grip on the slick stage, soles squealing against the polished wood. The world tilted. Moonlight and trees blurred into a painted chaos, and then the backdrop gave way with a harsh rip. Canvas tore beneath my fingers as I crashed through it, branches vanishing into shreds of fabric. I hit something solid; the force jarring the breath from my lungs. Pain knifed through my shoulder, both white-hot and breath-stealing. I gasped; the sound swallowed by the roar in my ears.
Before I could right myself, a sickening crack echoed through the space, wood splintering, metal screeching against metal. The sound was wrong, so fundamentally wrong that my body responded before my mind could process what was happening. I curled into myself as a portion of the lighting grid wrenched free from the ceiling, crashing down in a tangle of cables and shattered bulbs a few feet from where I lay.
Glass exploded above with a shriek, raining over me. Tiny shards bit into my arms, and my neck, like tiny, burning pinpricks that bloomed with blood. I covered my head with my arms, breath hitching as the sting spread like fire across my skin.
Maddie’s voice, distant and yelling my name, both urgent and panicked, was swallowed by the groaning bones of the building. The theater continued to thrash and convulse, throwing me sideways. Each seismic wave seemed larger than the last. Somewhere nearby, water hissed from a broken pipe, mixing with the acrid smell of electrical burns.
I needed to move. To find an exit. To escape before—
Darkness opened under me.
For one heartbeat, I was weightless.
Then the world collapsed.