Chapter 2
Red
"Dude, check it out. It has a motion sensor that’ll go directly to our phones." Cass practically bounces next to me.
"Groundbreaking," I deadpan.
"Nah man, see, look, I’ve already downloaded the app." Cass excitedly shoves his phone in my face, like I didn't understand the concept of a wireless security system the first time he brought it up. He's the only person I know who could get this pumped about very basic technology most people have in their homes.
With the heat Ophelia's been getting lately, and with her connection to our club, it's best we finally up our game and invest in something that isn't just our reputation.
I shake my head at Cass and push him off, but he’s like a puppy with a chew toy. Since I'm not as animated as he wants me to be, he grumbles, "I’m gonna go show Roxy."
Just as Cass is leaving, Phe walks into the office. He nearly trips, giving her a double take, but the door slams shut in his face.
Ignoring his strange reaction, Phe makes herself at home, propping her ass on my desk, kicking her legs up to stretch out on the chair opposite me, and a baiting scent hits me.
"What the hell is that?" I breathe her in.
She frowns. "What?"
Inching closer, I briefly catch a sweet scent that isn’t hers, but it vanishes.
"What? Do I smell?" She asks, sniffing her pits. Those unfortunate days when Phe used to wear cheap over-the-counter scent-blockers which reacted poorly with her scent, making her smell like melted plastic, caused us all to have PTSD. She wore that shit for years, but now, on the rare occasion she wears it—she might have mated billionaires, but she’s still a cheap ass—it’s almost unbearable.
But she’s not wearing blockers, so whatever it was that lingered with her in the office is gone. I can’t identify it, so I let it go.
"I’m bored. My friend just left. You guys almost done?" She asks her mates. Enzo’s completely fixated on whatever the fuck he’s doing on one of our office computers. I assumed he was finishing the security install, but he could also be hacking into our financial system and reinvesting our payroll flush for all I know.
"How can you be bored in a room full of tits?" Theo gasps.
Phe gives Theo a glare, then shrugs. "Good point. Want to go watch?"
"Thought you’d never ask, lovebug."
"You’re the fucking worst," Asher groans, but gets up to follow them out, leaving me alone in the office with Enzo and Sully.
Sully’s a man of action, and I can tell he’s got something on his mind. Since I have no clue how long Enzo is gonna take, I pull a bottle of whiskey from my desk drawer—such a fucking cliche but I love it—and pour two glasses, taking a seat in the chair across the couch from where he’s seated. He takes a few sips, biding his time, and we sit here in silence, pretending we're friends or some shit.
"Rubens still coming around?" he finally asks.
"Yep."
"I’m impressed, he’s really stepped up his game. He’s been trying to convince Fletcher to hire a few more doctors to have a permanent off-campus role, rotating through the omega clinics in town. Maybe implement it as a national standard." The OFA is a national program, but we have a home field advantage in Arrow Cove; it’s the largest facility, therefore the one with the strongest influence over the rest of the facilities.
He sips his whiskey, and I wait for him to get to the point, since I already know all this.
"Fletcher is being… problematic."
I scoff. "Did you think it’d be so easy? One meeting where she finally comes around and suddenly she’s crossed over from the dark side?"
Sully winces, adjusting in his seat, the suit straining his biceps as he shifts. Man is a fucking boardroom executive trapped in a wrestler’s body. "No. I knew she’d be an uphill battle. Nurse fucking Ratched basically told Rubens there was no funding for medical care at outpost facilities, but that any omega was welcome to visit the OFA, no questions asked, and receive free medical care."
"The whole fucking point is that not all omegas want to walk into the OFA."
"Yeah. Rubens pointed out that the OFA relies on donations and receives federal funding. He’s hoping she’ll come around before we have to take it up the chain."
Phe and I have some harsh words for the OFA, but especially for Fletcher.
Nurse Ratched, a/k/a Madam Fletcher, is the director of the local facility and, in my humble opinion, completely fucking responsible for what happened to Alma, Phe’s twin sister and my highschool girlfriend, over ten years ago. We were never meant to go the distance, but I still loved Alma.
Alma liked me because all the other girls in school did. I liked Alma 'cause she was intense. Unlike Phe, Alma loved being an omega and played that shit up, but push came to shove, the girl would shove; she was from the streets just like the rest of us, and I loved that she couldn’t polish that attitude away no matter how hard she tried.
But Fletcher and the OFA didn’t just do her dirty, and I don’t give a fuck what they say, or how remorseful the Olcene Pack claimed to be after all that shit came to light last year, after those assholes abducted Phe and tried to force-bond her—they will burn in hell, because what they did to Alma, however they wanna dress it up, was assault, and Fletcher tried to cover it up.
Meanwhile, Phe’s trying to balance being angry for the cause and being angry for her sister, and the two missions don’t necessarily line up, so she's conflicted.
She’s the one with the connections to make real progress and changes at the OFA. Nurse Ratched, ahem, Fletcher, barely acknowledges any wrong doing with what happened to Alma. But aside from that, the OFA's curriculum, getting worse by the year, instills in omegas the belief that they’re somehow lesser if they don’t conform to the OFA standards.
I’m sick of it. I’m sick of seeing omegas come through these doors and look like shells of who they could be, because of how the propaganda impacts the way they're treated out in the world, whether they attended the OFA or not.
"Truthfully, our attention is split," Sully sighs.
I take a sip of the whiskey, registering his words. "Heat clinics?"
"Heat clinics," he confirms. It’s been Phe’s priority since shit went down last year and the Olcene Pack kidnapped her. Finding out they had been sneaking into heat clinics sent her into a spiral of rage.
Before Moneybags Sully showed up, Phe was hustling around our neighborhood, selling heat suppressants and quality scent-blockers to omegas on the streets, helping them avoid detection and stay out of heat clinics if they chose, because they all knew what could happen at a heat clinic.
An omega can’t consent once in heat, because they’re delirious, and an alpha sneaking into a clinic, which is supposed to be safe, and fucking them without their knowledge—without their fucking consent—is rape. There’s no other word for it. I'm with Phe; dealing with an omega's safety at the heat clinic should come first.
"She feels guilty OFA’s not her priority?"
Sully nods. "We’ll get to it. I think she thought since we're now working on this together, that just having money would solve the issue. I don’t think she expected it to be so difficult, to take so long. So, we’re focusing on cleaning up the heat clinics now, installing security," he nods toward Enzo, who doesn't say a word or look up, "and the mayor’s office says they’re doing what they can."
"You don’t believe them?"
"I believe they care what happens to omegas as much as Fletcher does." Interesting. There’s no doubt Fletcher cares about omegas, but it's not in a way that’s beneficial.
"I got you. Well, if you need anything…"
Sully tips his glass, swallowing the remainder of the contents. "I’m sure Phe will be up your ass if we do," he chuffs.
It’s true. I love the girl, but she can be a pain in the ass.