5. Storm
Chapter 5
Storm
F our Years Later
I lay sprawled across my bed, the sheets barely covering me as my fingers slide expertly over my slick clit. My free hand clutching the fabric beneath me, knuckles white with the intensity of the pressure I’m building inside myself. Every stroke sends a jolt through me, each one making the world blur at the edges until the only thing that’s real is the heat and the friction and the humiliating thrill of it all.
Each morning since I turned eighteen, this is how I start my day. An act of rebellion that has become routine. At first, making myself come was about proving a point. Showing that alpha asshole Jonathan that he couldn’t control my body, no matter how much they tried.
But then something changed. It started to become more. I felt it deep, a dark little seed that took root and grew in the depths of me. Imagining his piercing green eyes watching me from the camera in my room only made me hotter.
Each moan past my lips, taunting, daring him to come to me it stoked a fire. I arch my back, fingers working faster as I chase my release. The dark chocolate notes of my omega scent thicken in the air. Let the cameras see. Let Jonathan watch if he's still monitoring me after all this time. With one name always on my lips.
"Rook," I whisper as I come.
The pleasure crests and fades, leaving me panting in the tangled sheets. For a few precious moments, the emptiness recedes. Then reality crashes back—I'm still here. Still trapped. Four years gone.
I push myself up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. My reflection in the mirror catches my eye—I'm no longer the half-starved girl who arrived here. My curves have filled out. My wild auburn curls are tamer, but still frame my face with defiant wisps. My skin glows with a health that doesn’t match the prison I’m trapped in.
Four years in this place has changed me physically. But inside, I'm still the same Storm who first walked through these doors—just with better survival skills and a deeper pit of rage.
I shower quickly, scrubbing away the evidence of my morning activities, the water running down my body in rivulets. Steam fills the small bathroom, curling around me like a cocoon. The water is always hot in the Omega House—one of the few luxuries they provide in this gilded cage I’d never had before. I let the heat wash over me, trying to calm the racing thoughts in my mind since I turned twenty last month.
Choosing Day.
The words echo in my brain, a promise and a threat all at once. It means a chance to get out. But it also means a leash if I can’t get away. No way in hell I’m letting that happen. I dry off and wrap the towel around me, my skin flushed from more than just the shower.
Just as I step out, Veronica takes that moment to burst into my room, her sharp eyes scanning the space like she’s searching for contraband. She hasn’t figured out where I stash my gum. I have no idea why that’s banned in the Omega House.
The house mother is a total bitch, and she hates me. The feeling is mutual. She stands there, thin lips pursed, her arms crossed like she’s got me all figured out.
“Storm.” My name comes out with disdain. Her voice clipped and cold. “You recently had your birthday. You are now to be the next omega in the Choosing Day along with Harley.”
“The fuck?” I don’t mean to say it out loud, but the words slip past my lips before I can stop them. Veronica’s face turns red.
“Storm,” she snaps, her eyes narrowing like she’s trying to bore holes into my skull. I’d laugh if it wasn’t all so damn amusing.
I just smirk and walk over to my bed where she has placed my clothes for the day. A dress. Pale and soft and nothing like what I would choose to wear. No doubt she’s thinking about the way it matches my omega designation. I scoff, picking up the offending garment like it might bite me.
“What do you want me to say?” I ask, my tone mocking. “Oh gee, thanks Veronica! Sounds like a fucking dream!” I’m not sure what she expected, but from the way her jaw clenches, this isn’t it. Honestly, this beta is clueless if she thinks I want to jump up and down and throw a party.
Inside, I am. I am because I haven’t forgotten that address. I know exactly where I need to be. I know exactly who I need to find. Hopefully, Rook is still waiting there for me.
The only thing that’s confusing is Harley. Why are we going up together? The thought gnaws at me. I try to make sense of the unexpected timing, the way this round of Choosing Day breaks from the perfect order they usually have.
They only ever put up one omega per month. That's the way it's supposed to be, a steady rotation where every omega knows when their day is coming. But putting us both up at once is more than strange. It’s unheard of. What are they playing at? They’re changing all the rules. The more I think about it, the more questions bloom, each one twisting tighter than the last.
Only lately, they've been a little longer between Choosing Day’s. Six weeks was the last. Dahlia is up today. She’s an elite omega. Marigold went before her, and she cried so intensely that they turned off the TV. It was the only real thing we have seen from the outside world in months.
They haven’t let us watch the news for the past three months. I have a feeling the fact Harley and I are both beta-born omegas has got something to do with this double Choosing Day. The tension makes me question what’s happening outside these walls.
There aren’t many of us here. Even elite omegas are rare here. Maybe fifteen tops. Not enough for all the alpha packs out there. There are six of us beta-born here. Even less for the beta-born packs. And there are more of them than the elites.
I see my best friend standing at the end of the hallway, her expression a mix of excitement and dread. Harley. Her brown hair falls softly around her face, giving her a sweet omega look, but with an attitude that makes everyone look twice. We’re both born only weeks apart. The day I confronted Jonathan about Rook and he showed me that image of him safe, was the day I met her. I swear she was sent here to save my sanity.
Because I might have tried to go through the wall of the Omega House. But my girl Harley. She prefers to go over. Not that she has been trying to escape since they installed a permanent guard house out there in the garden. Plus, I’m sure it has nothing to do with the very cute beta guard in there most nights.
I head towards her, and she catches my eye, raising her eyebrows in a silent question. We move out into the main area of the house.
"We are going together on Choosing Day," she says as I get near, her words a mixture of disbelief and worry.
She glances around cautiously, lowering her voice like Veronica will jump out from behind a corner. We have to expect that everyone is watching and listening at all times in this place. They usually are, and they have a way of making sure we know it.
But Harley is the one person I trust enough to talk to, the only one who really gets me and this place.
“This makes no sense. They've never had two omegas do a Choosing Day together. Do you think that's why we can't watch the news anymore? There’s something going on, and I think we might be caught up in it.” I whisper as softly as I can.
She leans forward, and I do the same, making sure that no one else can hear us. "Something's going on," she murmurs in my ear. "Something that they don't want us to know about." The more I think about it, the more I’m sure of it.
Fuck . I stand back a little. I have to fight the urge to look over my shoulder, to check if any cameras are pointed directly at us.
Harley’s nose scrunches up at my scent, and I can almost see a teasing smile on her face, mixed with her omegas need to scratch my eyes out. The air is thick with the rich scent of dark chocolate. I haven’t taken my blockers for days again, and I know she can tell. All the omegas can. They complain about me a lot. The only thing that makes sense is something big is happening. Something like a rebellion, a war.
“Think there's going to be a war?” I ask, so low that I can barely hear myself.
“I hope they overturn the government and stop this Omega House bullshit.” The rage inside me is building at this bullshit Choosing day.
Both of us fall silent, the weight of my words pressing down like a physical thing. Even whispering about it feels dangerous, but there’s a spark in the air that wasn’t there before.
“Let's talk about this later.”
Harley’s voice trails off as she shifts, and I follow her eyes to the small figure coming from down the hall. Daisy. The other omegas may be rare, but she’s the most precious elite in the bunch. Her blood is so pure I’m sure it runs gold. Fuck sake. She seems to always pop up wherever I am, like a shadow I can’t shake. I don’t trust her. I don’t trust any of the elites. Even the ones caged in with me.
I flick my hair over my shoulder, my wild curls catching the light while I stare daggers at the little elite princess. My hand finds my hip, and I square my shoulders like I’m ready to throw down in one of those underground fights Rook used to take me to.
Her eyes go wide as coins, and she makes a noise that’s somewhere between a squeak and a gasp—a sound that would fit right in with a bunch of mice. It echoes in my head like a victory cheer when she finally turns and runs off.
Once Daisy's fled from the area, I look around to make sure no one else is hovering. Then I see them. Cookies! Right out on the table, just sitting there like they want me to eat them. Hell yeah. Love cookies.
I grab one as Harley shakes her head at me, but she can’t keep a straight face. Not even close. By the time I’ve crammed the first one in my mouth, she’s got a full-on grin spreading wide.
“What?” I ask around a mouthful of cookie. “The bitch wouldn’t quit staring at me.” Harley laughs, and I stuff another cookie into my mouth. I can’t help myself.
The beta bitch in charge is on a mission today, storming across the room like she owns the place. Harley drops her gaze almost immediately, like we’ve been trained.
Me? Not a chance.
I toss the last bite of my cookie into my mouth and spin on my heel, twirling for no damn reason except to annoy the hell out of Miranda. I grin wide, knowing exactly what I’m doing.
I pull some gum from my pocket and pop it in my mouth, discarding the rubbish beside the almost empty cookie plate. The gum in my mouth is minty, sweet, and so damn worth the risk. Frankie’s a saint for sneaking it in.
“Miss Harley,” Miranda snaps, her voice sharp enough to cut through steel. “A little too late. As soon as you see me, you must acknowledge my status. Not wait for me to approach you.”
Oh, please.
I glance sideways and see Harley keeping her cool, barely holding back what I know is a smartass reply. She nods like a good omega, and I catch her sneaking a look at me—big mistake.
Miranda turns toward me, eye already twitching. “Miss Storm, I don't have words for your manners. It's like you don't even want to be a good omega.”
Bingo. I beam at her like I’ve won a damn prize. “Miranda, what crawled up your ass?”
I hear Harley snort, and that makes me grin harder. She's trying to hide it, coughing into her hand, but the damage is done. Miranda looks like she might explode. I almost feel bad.
Almost.
I twirl again, just to drive the point home, and blow a perfect bubble. Pop.
No fucking way. She popped my bubble. Miranda is a little bitchier than usual today.
“All right, Miss Storm, this is your final warning.”
Veronica’s voice booms across the room like thunder, and even I have the sense to stop chewing mid-bubble. I hear the heavy stomp of her boots and immediately lower my head, but not fast enough. Shit.
There’s pushing buttons for fun, and then there’s Veronica—the head beta with a stick so far up her ass I’m surprised she can walk straight. She’s the real power around here. Miranda just plays pretend. Veronica’s the one who actually decides what happens to us.
Still… I can’t help myself.
“What happens after my final warning?” I ask sweetly, flashing her an innocent smile. “Do you spank me?”
Out of the corner of my eye, Harley loses it. She bends over, holding her knees, wheezing with laughter like I just told the joke of the century. That only fuels me more.
Veronica, of course, does not find it funny. She straightens up like she’s just been personally offended by my existence.
“That’s it. Neither of you will be going today.”
And just like that, I remember that today is Dahlia’s Choosing Day. The one we are supposed to attend.
Well, if she thinks that’s a punishment, I’ll take it.
“You wanna watch Friends again?” I ask Harley, practically bouncing down to the couch area. I don’t want to talk about earlier, not where someone might hear us. Harley’s quiet, but I know she gets it. She follows my lead, falling into step beside me.
“What about a movie first? How about?—”
“Stop.”
The word slices through the air like a whip, sharp and cold. I freeze mid-step. Shit. That voice isn’t beta. It’s deep, commanding—an alpha bark. My fists clench at my sides before I can stop them.
Harley gasps behind me, and I feel her fear, sharp like needles on my skin. Mine isn’t much better. I hate how easily my body reacts, like it’s wired to obey. My heart hammers in my chest, but I lift my chin a little higher, even as my scent betrays me.
“Turn,” the alpha growls again.
My feet move before I can stop them. I grit my teeth, hating how his power coils around my instincts like a leash. I’d laugh if it wasn’t so terrifying—how little it takes for them to remind us of who’s in charge.
“Look at me.” The words slice through the air, controlled and dangerous. I don’t move. I refuse.
“Look. At. Me.” Jonathan’s voice feels like a whip. The sheer force of his will surrounds me, and I know he can sense my resistance crumbling, like the pressure is some sort of game that only he gets to play. He waits, and the room feels too small, too full of his power. It chokes the air from my lungs, forcing my instincts to scream for submission.
I finally lift my eyes to meet his.
Green. Sharp. Intense.
His presence towers over me, almost physical in its weight, and I hate how I feel myself reel under it. His scent is deep and masculine, smoky cedarwood and black pepper pushes at my senses until my mouth dries up like a damn desert.
I don’t want to like it, but my omega instincts hum, singing a treacherous song. I want to slap myself for reacting, for letting him see even a flicker of whatever mess is stirring inside me. How quickly he reminds me I’m still tethered to this place, still unable to escape what I am. I hate this. I hate him.
“You will stop teasing the betas. You will both show respect. Do you understand?” His words are clipped, authoritative, like there’s no chance anyone in the room would dare to defy him. His eyes pierce into mine, waiting for a response.
I don’t give him the pleasure of a reply. And when neither of us speak he continues.
“You both will be coming today and be on your best behavior. It will be your Choosing Day in two weeks’ time.” He doesn’t leave room for questions. His voice cuts off any protest before it can leave my throat.
My stomach drops.
How in the hell can it be so soon? One omega a month is how it’s been for sixty years.
I’ll be seeing Rook in two weeks?