9. Noah
Noah
M y body aches and my face is sore as I unlock the front door as quietly as I can.
It's almost four in the morning, so Austin should be fast asleep.
He's like a mother-hen with all of his worrying and as much as I felt like an ass, I couldn't handle both his and my anxiety after finding out that Hannah is our true scent match.
Not to mention the fact that I didn't even get to scent her myself, I was stuck sniffing Enzo's hand like some kind of freak.
Shutting the door carefully behind me with a soft click, I turn and nearly jump out of my skin when I see Austin, on our couch, looking exhausted.
It's like that moment in the teen movie when they sneak back into the house, and the parent flicks on a light right when they think they've gotten away with it.
"What the hell, Austin?" I gasp, clutching my chest and locking the door behind me.
"You gotta lotta nerve, Noah," Austin stands from his seat on the couch, "asking me what the hell when you up and left right after we found our true scent match." He startles to a stop, his eyes widening as he takes in the state of me. "What in the hell happened to your face?"
Internally, I wince. He never usually stays up when I sneak out to the underground fighting ring, so by the time he sees me the next day, my alpha healing has me nearly good as new again.
Titus had me look into this ring and a few other underground organizations five or so years ago, since we got an anonymous report that omegas were being trafficked.
Turns out, this ring is the only one that funnels money to support off-the-books operations to extract omegas from dangerous situations.
Ones where they might not want the police to look into what happened to the criminals treating omegas worse than livestock.
It's a mission I can appreciate.
So, Titus and I agreed that this particular ring would be left standing, their information mysteriously never making it to the authorities.
And they gained a new fighter. I started out horribly, but over the last five years I've trained and honed my skills, providing myself an outlet for my aggression.
The alpha inside me…he needs a firm hand. A way to unleash the excess energy, an enemy he can pummel into the ground. Tonight though? Admittedly, I probably shouldn't have gone tonight. My head was anywhere but in the game, and I got my ass handed to me.
"I…" I roll out my shoulders, trying to seem nonchalant about the whole thing. "I needed to work off some emotion, so I went to Kane's gym to get some heavy bag training in."
Pushing past him, I try to make my way to my shower. The fight tonight was an impromptu match, so I didn't bring any of my toiletries for the locker room shower, I just got to rinse off the worst of it with water.
"Well, correct me if I'm wrong, brother ," Austin drawls, walking slowly after me, "but typically, punching bags aren't supposed to hit back."
He doesn't understand. He doesn't have this…this…beast, raging just under his skin. Austin's always been this kind, gentle spirit. Only using his fists if he needed to protect someone smaller and weaker than him…like me.
It's not a secret that growing up, everyone thought I was going to be a beta.
I was too skinny, too lanky, too…lacking.
But then, a week right before my eighteenth birthday, the shift happened, almost overnight.
My pheromones changed, I got a little more muscular, and I shot up three inches in height, so I was just as tall as Austin.
Suddenly being eye-level with the boy-turned man who had spent the last four years fending off bullies for you is a heady experience.
Even though I know he's right to see through my bullshit excuse, I flip him off over my shoulder before disappearing into the bathroom we share. My reflection in the mirror has me leaning closer, assessing the damage.
Fuck.
My left eye is already purple, the swelling around my eye socket making it almost impossible to see the eye underneath.
I could already tell it wasn't great since it hadn't been exactly easy to see out of, but seeing it with my own eyes is different.
Huffing a breath, I step into the shower, letting the scalding hot water burn away my shortcomings.
Usually, I avoid mirrors in the locker room, shower there, and fall into bed when I get home. When I wake in the morning, the worst of the damage is healed, and by the time I see Austin, it's nothing more than a light bruise.
To be honest, I'm surprised he didn't try to drag me to the kitchen where the first aid kit is. It's not like he's never patched me up after a beating before.
Though, that was when we were kids.
Part of me wonders what this new pack dynamic will look like between Enzo, Charlie, Austin and me. Enzo is older, and will probably feel responsible for the lot of us. I have a sneaking suspicion he won't let me get away with sneaking off to illegal fighting rings for long.
Sighing, I turn the shower on as hot as I can stand it, desperate to be truly clean of all the dirt and sweat I accumulated in the ring tonight.
My opponent was a big fucker, almost as large as Titus.
With a shaved bald head and tattoos covering every available inch of skin, I would have had a hard time with him even if I had been completely on my game. Tonight I got my ass handed to me.
Even as I was on the ground, pinned by the big fuckers knees, all I could smell was peach and brown sugar. My alpha was revolting, demanding we go find our omega. Chase her down. Make her submit to us. Bite. Claim.
Groaning, I fist my hardening cock, letting my forehead fall against the cool tiles of the shower. I wonder if Hannah would let me claim her in the most primal way an alpha can claim an omega.
Through a chase.
My hand moves faster as I think of the wooded area about thirty minutes away—it would be perfect for setting her loose and tracking her down by scent alone.
The thought of her trying to escape me, looking for a way out, but having no choice but to submit to her alpha has me moaning, pumping my hard length faster and faster until I imagine pinning her down, ripping off her panties and sinking into her hot, wet heat.
My release paints the shower tile, and I squeeze my knot with my other hand, pretending I'm locked inside my omega.
My omega. Hannah.
With her pouty lips, big, green eyes, and rosy pink hair, the woman looks like she was made for me.
Which I guess she was.
Austin doesn't know that he's not the only one that had a slight…obsession with the little omega. I looked her up a little over four months ago when he came home, telling me about how he had met an omega and even though the evening hadn't ended how he had hoped, he really liked her.
At the time, even though it had seemed out of character, I had thought he meant he didn't get to sleep with her. Now I realize something else happened to make him withdraw.
After some light stalking, I uncovered that she's an unbonded omega, who had lived with her step-grandmother since she was sixteen, presented at seventeen, and moved out on her own three years ago when her step-grandmother moved into an assisted living facility.
She works at Designation Hair Salon, and has since she took the receptionist position at eighteen and then continued to work there as she went to cosmetology school.
She spent a year as an assistant to a beta stylist by the name of Joanie, then got her own chair and has maintained a steady stream of clients since.
Light stalking.
Okay, fine, we may have passed over into moderate stalking when I checked on her whereabouts after she didn't show up for work for two days in a row.
Heat fucking clinic.
At least now I know why my alpha went into such a rage at the thought of Hannah being attended to by other alphas. How many unsatisfied heats has she had? How many times has she been left feeling unsatisfied and unloved because of a biological function she has no control over?
The ball of anxiety still tight in my chest, I finish washing myself and get out of the shower, ready to sleep the first half of the day away.
I almost feel guilty for knowing that she's tried to court twenty-three different packs.
Hacking into the OMS database after finding out she was in heat was not one of my finer moments, but I had to know if she was looking for a pack or not.
First pack seen was when she was twenty, last pack seen was over four years ago.
That's between four and five packs a year, if she was going consistently.
But the last four years…it doesn't even look like she's stepped foot in the facility. Had she just…given up?
The thought sends a wave of protectiveness through my chest, my alpha uneasy at the thought of our mate giving up hope.
Exiting the bathroom with a towel wrapped around my waist, I immediately head to my room, lest Austin is still up and waiting for me so he can rip me a new one.
Even though it seems like he must be in bed, I quickly shut my door behind me, not bothering to turn on the lights as I dig some boxers out of my dresser.
I'm half asleep by the time I crawl under the covers, but the one persistent thought in my mind is that I hope to hell Enzo's plan works because now that I know she's mine…I need Hannah Beckham.