3. Storm
Chapter 3
Storm
A soft knock interrupts my thoughts of seeing Rook’s face again. I quickly sit up, smoothing the blanket to hide any evidence of my plans in my backpack and shove it under my pillows.
"Come in," I call, trying to sound neutral.
It's not Miranda or Veronica but the beta Dr. Winters, the facility physician. My stomach drops. I wasn't scheduled for another check-up until next week. And fuck that. If she thinks I’m going back to have her poke and prod me. I’ll be long gone.
"Hello, Storm," she says, clipboard in hand. "How are you feeling today?"
"Fine." The word comes out clipped. I don't trust her clinical smile.
"Your pheromones are causing some issues in the house, and I want to make sure you’re getting enough scent blockers." She sits on the edge of my bed without asking.
I shrug. "Are the other omegas telling you I stink?"
Dr. Winters gives me a tight smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "No, actually. It's causing some distress among the staff."
I can't help the smirk that forms on my face.
"What kind of distress?" I ask, not bothering to hide my satisfaction. "Am I making the beta staff uncomfortable?"
Dr. Winters' professional mask slips for just a second, revealing annoyance before she composes herself again. "Your scent is particularly strong for someone on scent blockers, Storm."
I cross my arms over my chest. "Not my problem."
"Actually, it is." She opens her clipboard. "Your file indicates you've been refusing your heat suppressants."
Shit. Someone found my stash.
"I don't want them," I say, chin lifting defiantly. "They make me feel like I'm not myself."
"They're for your own good," she counters. "First heats can be unpredictable and extremely painful without proper medication."
"I'll take my chances."
Dr. Winters sighs, her patience clearly wearing thin. "Storm, I understand this transition has been difficult for you. Most beta-to-omega transitions are rare. You haven’t been raised like the other omegas, knowing what is to happen."
I turn away, staring at the wall. She doesn't understand anything about me.
"Your dark chocolate scent is... particularly potent," she continues, her voice softening slightly. "It's affecting the beta staff, and if we get any alpha visitors, it could cause serious problems."
"Then maybe don't bring alphas into the Omega House," I snap. "Seems like a design flaw."
Dr. Winters' lips thin into a tight line. "The Omega House is run by alphas, Storm. They could visit at any time."
I shrug. I don’t care.
“We are going to give you a double dose of blockers starting tomorrow and we will be watching you take them each day until your scent is dulled.”
I clench my jaw, the taste of fury bitter on my tongue. "You can't force me to take anything."
"Actually, we can." Dr. Winters' voice turns cold, clinical. "Section 12 of the Omega Protection Act allows medical intervention when an omega's health or safety is at risk. Your refusal of heat suppressants qualifies. But I don’t care if you don’t take them. You will be the sorry one. But the blockers you don’t have a choice."
My hands curl into fists. "My body, my choice."
"Not anymore." She stands, smoothing her white coat. "Not since you presented as an omega."
The words hit like a physical blow. I've lost control of even this—my own body.
"The new alphas who will be running this house will be visiting tomorrow to introduce themselves," she continues, watching my reaction carefully. "Your scent needs to be under control by then. If you refuse the medication, they'll have no choice but to use their alpha bark to ensure compliance."
Alpha bark. Fuck.
My breath catches in my throat. The memory of the last alpha bark is still fresh in my mind—the weight of it pressing down on me, forcing my body to obey against my will. It was the most violating feeling I've ever experienced.
"Fuck you," I whisper, but there's no real fire behind it. Just exhaustion.
"Some blockers will be brought with your dinner," Dr. Winters says, ignoring my comment. "I suggest you take it voluntarily."
As she turns to leave, something occurs to me. "Wait, new alphas? What happened to the old ones?"
Dr. Winters stops at the door and says, "There's a management change. This occurs when the pack prepares to join the lottery. They can't remain working here since it's against the lottery's rules. Typically, we experience a change every couple of years. You'll likely witness at least two more alpha packs during your time here."
My time here, until Choosing Day.
* * *
Night falls slowly on the Omega House. Lights out at ten, followed by hourly patrols until midnight, then every two hours after that. But I won’t be here for that. I will be long gone and in Rook’s arms.
I lie fully clothed under my blanket, Rook's hoodie providing what little comfort I can find. The protein bars and money are wrapped in a t-shirt at the bottom of my backpack.
At 8:55 PM, I slip from my bed and press my ear to the door. The hallway is silent. I ease the door open, sling my backpack over my shoulder and move silently down the corridor, keeping to the shadows. The beta guards in the main rec room are all standing around chatting while some of the other omegas are still playing games or watching TV. Some lights are now off, as the evening is drawing to an end. Right on schedule. I hear one of the guards laughing and look over to see them all interested in what he has to say.
I should laugh at how easy this is. I quickly make my way across the room in the darkness, no one paying attention now I have the blockers in my system. Yeah, as much as I didn’t want them, I also didn’t want to be out there without them. There’s no way I would make it to Rook smelling like a tasty omega to all the alphas out there.
I push open the door to the garden slowly, wincing at the slight creak of its hinges. The cool night air hits my face like freedom. I stand still for a moment, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness, scanning the grounds for movement. Nothing. Just the shadowy outlines of trees and the garden.
I move quickly but carefully, keeping low, sticking to the patches of darkness between the security lights. My heart pounds so loud I'm certain someone will hear it.
The place I’m looking for looms ahead, and I duck under the tree, feeling along the fence for the rusted section. My fingers find the weakness and I pull it, creating a gap just wide enough for a small person to squeeze through.
Like a 5'2" omega who's lost too much weight.
I drop to my stomach and push my backpack through first, then wiggle through the gap. The metal catches on my hoodie, and for one terrifying moment I think I'm stuck. I pull harder, feeling threads tear, but I keep going. Freedom is on the other side.
Until a large, warm hand wraps around my ankle and hauls me back. I yelp before I can stop myself, my hands scraping against the dirt as I'm dragged backward. The hand on my ankle is like an iron shackle. Alpha. Fuck .
"Let me go!" I hiss, kicking out with my free leg. My foot connects with something solid, and I hear a grunt, but the grip doesn't loosen.
I’m flipped over and my eyes adjust to the dim light. His green eyes are almost black in the darkness, but I'd recognize that face anywhere—the sharp jawline, the perfect aristocratic features that scream old money and pure alpha bloodlines.
Jonathan Kingsley. Elite among elites.
"Little Beta," he says, his voice a low rumble that I feel in my chest.
I try to kick him again, but he shifts his weight, pinning both my legs with his hands. His scent envelops me in smoky cedar and sharp black pepper. It's powerful and dominant, filling my nostrils and making it hard for me to focus or think clearly. Damn omega biology.
"Get off me," I snarl, baring my teeth. "You have no right to touch me."
He tilts his head, studying me with those penetrating eyes. "I have every right. I run the Omega House."
My stomach plummets. "You're the new alphas?" I whisper, the words escaping before I can stop them.
The corner of Jonathan's mouth lifts in a cold smile.
Memories flood back—the underground fight club, Rook's bloodied face, Reed's calculating gaze. These weren't just random alphas. They're the new management. The ones who now control every aspect of my life for the next four years.
"Let. Me. Go." I emphasize each word, refusing to show the panic rising inside me.
Jonathan's grip remains firm, his eyes never leaving mine. "And where exactly are you planning to go at this hour, Little… Omega?"
The way he says "omega" sends a chill down my spine. He knows. Of course, he knows—he runs the place now.
I'm hit with the realization that my escape plan is shattered. Not only caught, but by Jonathan-fucking-Kingsley. Of all the alphas in the world, it had to be him.
"That's none of your business," I snap, still struggling against his grip.
"Actually," he says, his voice deceptively soft, "everything about you is my business now. You belong to me."
My heart hammers against my ribs as I stare up at him. The moonlight casts harsh shadows across his face, making those green eyes gleam like something feral. I can smell his scent getting stronger, that smoky cedar and black pepper wrapping around me like invisible bonds.
"I don't belong to you," I hiss through clenched teeth.
Jonathan's smile is slow and predatory. "No?” He pauses before continuing. “The state says otherwise. Every omega in this house is under my care and protection." He leans closer, his breath warm against my face. "Including you, Storm ."
The realization that he knows my name sends a shiver of fear and desire down my spine, making my breath catch and my heart race.
His lips curve into something that's not quite a smile. "Let me guess, you were off to find Rook Holloway, I assume?"
“So, what if I was.” I shove at his shoulder, but he doesn’t budge. That’s when I notice that he’s wearing a suit. Bent down in the dirt as he holds my jean covered legs. I can feel the heat from his hands through the material.
Where did he come from? No one’s ever out here at night. I look around the gardens and it’s empty beside us.
“Bet you’re wondering how I found you.” He tilts his head to the side and studies me.
"I know everything that happens in the Omega House, Storm. There are cameras everywhere.”
“Everywhere?” I haven’t seen any fucking cameras. But then… I didn’t even think to look for them.
Jonathan's lips twist into a smirk. "Not in your bathroom, if that's what you're worried about." His eyes travel over my face in a way that makes my skin heat. "Though I do know about the heat suppressants you've been hoarding under your pillow."
My body freezes beneath him. He's been watching me? It makes me feel exposed in a way that has nothing to do with his body pressing mine into the dirt.
“Get off me, you asshole.”
“But don’t you want to know where Rook is? I know for a fact he isn’t waiting behind that wall and he isn’t with Mrs. Jennings anymore.”
My heart hammers against my ribs. Rook isn’t living with Mrs. Jennings, our foster carer? Where the hell would he have gone? Not the address he gave me. He said four years on Choosing Day. The revelation makes me stop fighting for a moment, and Jonathan's grip on me loosens slightly, though he doesn't let go.
"Where is he?" I demand, my voice cracking with a desperation I hate showing. "Tell me where Rook is."
Jonathan studies me, his expression unreadable in the moonlight. The smoky cedar of his scent shifts slightly, taking on a sharper note that makes my omega instincts prickle with warning.
"Fighting in The Pit now. Making quite a name for himself these past few weeks." His thumb brushes absently against my ankle where he still holds me, the casual touch sending unwanted shivers up my spine.
The Pit. Rook wouldn’t. He promised.
"You're lying," I whisper.
Jonathan's eyes glitter. "Am I? You've been locked away here for what—three weeks? A lot can change in that time."
I renew my struggle, twisting beneath him.
"Let me go!" I growl, pushing against his chest. My hands meet solid muscle that doesn't budge an inch. "I need to find him."
I need to save Rook.
Jonathan leans closer, his face inches from mine. The scent of smoky cedar intensifies, wrapping around me like a physical thing. My omega instincts—the ones I've been fighting since presentation—respond traitorously, urging submission.
"You won't find what you're looking for, Storm. He’s lost to The Pit." His voice drops to a whisper now.
The words hit harder than any physical blow could. I go still. The fight draining out of me momentarily.
I presented right in the kitchen of our foster carer Mrs Jennings. Rook was there and so were two other alpha teens who lived there with us. All hell broke loose.
I flinch at the memory, the pain still fresh. Rook had been there when it happened—watched as my beta scent transformed in one agonizing wave. The dark chocolate notes had burst from my skin, filling the kitchen with undeniable omega sweetness. The other two alphas had advanced, eyes dilating, instincts overriding reason. But Rook had protected me, horror etched on his face as he fought to keep the two boys from attacking me. He told me he would wait for me. On Choosing Day. He promised.
"You're lying," I whisper again, but there's a hollow feeling spreading through my chest. What if he is telling the truth? What if I escape my alpha pack on Choosing Day and he isn’t there because he died in The Pit?
"Why would I lie?" Jonathan's voice is almost gentle, which somehow makes it worse.
"He promised," I whisper, more to myself than to Jonathan. "He would never fight in The Pit."
"Alphas make many promises," Jonathan says, his voice unexpectedly gentle. "Especially the beta-born. They’ll do anything for quick cash."
Rage flares inside me again, hot and clarifying. "You don't get to talk about him like that. You elite alphas with your pedigrees and your power—you've never had to fight for anything in your life."
Jonathan's expression hardens, the momentary softness vanishing. "You know nothing about my life, Little Omega."
"You don't know me, you don’t know Rook," I say, but my voice wavers.
Something that might be a smile ghosts across his face. "I know more than you think."
I swallow hard, unnerved by his observations. "If you're trying to manipulate me?—"
"I'm stating facts," he interrupts, finally releasing my ankle but not moving from his position above me. "And here's another fact, running away from the Omega House to another alpha is a criminal offense. One that could land you in a much less pleasant facility than this one. And the alpha found with you will be either killed or put to death. The Pits might not kill him, but your actions will."
The threat hangs between us, and I know it's not an idle one. I know the law.
My mouth goes dry at his words, but I refuse to let him see me cower. "So what? You're going to drag me back inside and lock me up tighter?"
Jonathan studies me for a long moment, his green eyes reflecting the moonlight. "No."
The simple answer catches me off guard. "No?"
He shifts his weight, finally allowing me to sit up, though he remains crouched beside me, blocking my escape route.
"No. I’m certain you'll go inside and not attempt to escape again. The instant I notice your absence, I'll issue the death sentence you desperately wish for Rook."
I freeze, my breath catching in my throat. The way he says Rook's name sends ice through my veins.
"You wouldn't," I whisper, but the conviction in my voice is gone.
Jonathan's face is carved from stone in the moonlight, all sharp angles and cold certainty. "I would. One word from me, and your alpha is gone." I stare at him, unable to hide the horror I know is plain on my face. The worst part is, I believe him. Jonathan Kingsley doesn't make empty threats. Elites never do.
“But if you don’t try to escape while I’m in charge, I’ll get him out of The Pits. I’ll save your precious alpha.”
“But you’re an asshole. Why would you help him?” He’s silent for a moment before he stands. I look up at his tall frame. He runs a hand over his face, and I realize he looks tired—too tired for someone who’s barely twenty. His whole body appears weighted, like the world is pressing down on his shoulders. It's a stark contrast to the control he usually radiates. He doesn't meet my gaze. Instead, he looks up at the stars twinkling in the night sky.
“I might be an asshole, Storm. But I don’t wish The Pit on any alpha.”
I hate him. But I have no choice but to trust him.
I trudge back to my room, Jonathan's tall figure, a shadow behind me. Every step feels like surrender, the weight of his ultimatum heavy on my shoulders. He doesn't touch me, doesn't need to—his presence alone is enough to ensure my compliance.
"My backpack," I say when we reach my door, my voice hollow. "It's still outside."
Jonathan's expression is unreadable in the dim hallway lighting. "I'll have it returned to you tomorrow." I hesitate.
"Go inside, Storm," he says with an almost defeated sigh that makes me pause. I look up, searching his face. "I’ll take care of Rook."
I step inside my room, closing the door softly behind me. For a moment, I stand with my back against the door, listening to Jonathan's retreating footsteps. When they finally fade, I slide down to the floor, pulling my knees to my chest.
"Damn it, Rook," I whisper into the darkness of my room.
"What have you done?"