9. Storm
Chapter 9
Storm
I find Harley under the large oak tree again. Her body curled into itself like she's trying to disappear. The morning dew has soaked through her clothes, but she doesn't seem to notice or care.
The memory of finding her last night still burns in my mind. She was huddled under this tree, sobbing uncontrollably. I'd never seen her like that before. I was just heading back to my room after playing my last game with Frankie when I heard she was out there. The words had tumbled out between heart-wrenching sobs. Jonathan had fired Gage, her Gage. Her beta guard. Just like that. No warning, no explanation. Just gone.
And worse, Jonathan had seen them. Or at least that’s what I got from her. Her first kiss. He'd threatened her, told her if she tried to escape over the fence of the Omega House, he'd make sure Gage suffered far worse than just losing his job. The implication was crystal clear without him having to spell it out. Jonathan would have Gage killed if she tried to run.
I crouch beside her now, placing a napkin filled with breakfast muffins I snuck from the dining area near her hand. "You need to eat something."
She blinks up at me, her face hollow with a grief I've never seen in her before. "What's the point?"
"The point is not starving to death before Choosing Day," I say, nudging the muffins closer. "Come on. They're blueberry."
She flinches at the word "blueberry." And I immediately regret my choice of words. Stupid. I should have known better.
"I don't want Choosing Day to come," she whispers, her voice so broken it makes my chest ache. "I can't do it, Storm."
I sit on the footpath in front of her. My ass is freezing from the cold. "Yes, you can. You can still choose ." She can put down the pack that Gage is in. Hopefully, he’s in a pack.
She shakes her head, tears filling her eyes again. "It doesn't matter. I can't."
"Jonathan will kill Gage," the words rush out in a harsh whisper. "He made that very clear. He said, ‘you know what they do to betas who fraternize with omegas’ . He’s gonna have him killed. If I try to escape or if I cause any issues at all, he'll make sure Gage is gone. I know he means to kill him. What we did… it was illegal. I know."
My blood turns to ice in my veins. "When did he tell you this?"
"Last night. He was out here when I went to find Gage." She gestures weakly to the guardhouse.
Fury rises in me, hot and choking. That bastard. That absolute fucking bastard. "He can't do that. He can't just?—"
"He can. He's Jonathan Kingsley. He runs the Omega House." Her voice is flat, resigned in a way that terrifies me more than her tears. "I have to go through with it. I have to pick out some random pack Veronica put in there. I just know they’re gonna be terrible. She hates me."
I clench my fists, my nails digging crescents into my palms. I knew Jonathan was cruel, but this is a new level even for him.
"I'm so sorry," I whisper, because what else can I say? What comfort can I possibly offer in the face of this?
She finally takes one of the muffins, nibbling at the edge without enthusiasm. "It's not your fault."
But it feels like it is. I got her hopes up with the stolen ticket. I made her believe she could escape to her perfect pack. She had the way, just no name to put on the stolen ticket.
I watch her pick at the muffin, my heart breaking for her. She found someone special in Gage, someone who made her feel worth something in this fucked-up system. Who cares about rules? Love is love. Beta and omega relationships are illegal, but it’s bullshit. We know it’s so the elites don’t get tainted beta blood if they let their omegas have offspring with betas.
But the fact that Jonathan did this to Harley. That's why I keep my heart under lock and key when it comes to Frankie. As much as I want there to be something more, I know it won't work out. If Jonathan could fire Gage so easily, what would stop him from doing the same to Frankie if he suspected anything between us? The thought makes my stomach clench with fear. I've already lost too many people I care about.
What we have now is all we will ever have—stolen moments over card games, lingering glances, the brush of fingers when he deals the cards. Nothing more. Nothing lasting.
Unless...
I tell him about my plan, about Rook waiting for me. If he wants, he could meet me there after I escape. It's a risk, trusting him, but some risks might be worth taking.
* * *
That evening, I find Frankie browsing through the small bookshelf in the recreation room, his fingers trailing over the spines of the worn paperbacks. My heart beats a little faster at the sight of him, at the small smile that touches his lips when he spots me.
I hesitate for a moment, Harley's situation with Gage fresh in my mind. Is it selfish to involve Frankie in my plans? Am I putting him at risk just by talking to him? The thought of Jonathan firing him—or worse—makes my stomach twist.
But there's no beta guard I trust more than Frankie. Hell, he sneaks me gum and has for the past four years. He still hasn’t been caught.
"Looking for something to read?" I ask, moving to stand beside him, keeping more distance between us than I normally would.
"Just browsing, I was bored. None of the other omega talk to me and I was waiting for …" his cheeks flushing pink as he lets the words linger. Me . He was waiting for me. I reach past him for a book, our arms brushing. "Any recommendations?" he asks.
I pretend to consider the question, pulling out a dog-eared copy of "The Great Gatsby." "This one's about a man who builds his entire life around the hope of reuniting with the woman he loves," I say, my voice casual but my words deliberate. "Spends years waiting for her, preparing for the moment they can be together again."
Something in my tone must alert him because his eyes sharpen, studying my face with sudden intensity. "Sounds romantic," he says carefully. "Does it have a happy ending?"
"That depends on the reader," I reply, my voice dropping lower. "I need to tell you something. Something important."
He nods as his eyes dart around the room. Most omegas are off in their rooms. But none of them are paying attention to us. We do this so often, it's routine. "This copy looks interesting," he says, pulling another book from the shelf, opening it as if to examine the pages. "Come see what you think."
We stand close, the open book between us giving us cover for the cameras. To anyone watching, we're just two people discussing books. But standing this close, I can see things I normally miss—the tiny flecks of gold in his brown eyes, the faint scar above his right eyebrow, the way his pulse jumps visibly at the base of his throat. Or the way his cinnamon heats up and makes my body react in a way I know my blockers should be stopping.
"I'm running on Choosing Day," I whisper, the words barely audible even to my own ears. "I've rigged the lottery with my own ticket."
His eyes widen slightly, but his expression remains neutral. "How?" His voice is so low I barely hear it. I point into the book and he nods. Keeping up the pretence.
"I stole a blank ticket. I'm going to write 'Pack Kingsley' on it."
He can't hide his shock at that and he turns to me. The book drops by his side, all the pretence gone. "Jonathan's pack? Why would you?—"
"Because they live closest to the theater where Choosing Day is held. Just a block from 427 Crescent Avenue." I lock eyes with him, willing him to understand. "That's where I'm meeting Rook."
"Rook?" He looks genuinely confused now.
"My alpha," I explain quickly. "From before the Omega House. We grew up together in the foster system. He promised to wait for me, to help me escape after Choosing Day."
Understanding dawns in his eyes.
I reach for the book at his side and point at the words I can’t actually see as my heart races. I turn a page in the book, trying to keep up the pretence. "I'm telling you because... because maybe you could meet me there. If you wanted to." The words rush out so fast that I can barely breathe as I wait for his reply. We haven’t spoken about this thing between us before. Never thought it could be more. But is this what it's like to tell the guy you're crushing on that you like him more than friends?
He's silent for a long moment. I hold my breath, watching the emotions play across his face. His scent changes and it grows sweeter.
"427 Crescent Avenue." He whispers the address that I have chanted in my head for the past four years. And my heart skips a beat.
"Right after the ceremony. As soon as I can get away, I will be there. Rook, too." I don't mention that I have no idea how I'll actually escape Jonathan and his pack once I've pulled their name. That's a problem for future me.
Frankie's eyes search mine, worry etched into the creases around them. "What if something goes wrong? What if you can't get away?"
The question hangs between us, heavy with implications. I hadn't allowed myself to consider failure. "Then I'll find another way," I whisper, trying to sound more confident than I feel. "I always do."
"Be careful, Storm," he says, his voice barely audible. "Jonathan... he fired Gage yesterday. No warning, nothing. Just escorted him out."
So he knows. Of course he does. The beta staff probably all know by now.
"I know," I say, the words tight in my throat. "That's why you need to be careful, Frankie. I shouldn't even be telling you this. I’m worried, but I wanted to let you know. Give you the choice."
He closes the book, sliding it back onto the shelf. His fingers brush against mine as he does, lingering a moment longer than necessary. "You be careful.”
The tenderness in his voice makes my heart squeeze painfully.
I search his face, seeing a determination there that matches my own. "I'll watch for you. At the address."
He squeezes my hand with the book I hold, his palm warm against mine. For a brief moment, neither of us moves, both reluctant to break this fragile connection. I hear one of the guards laughing and we let go as if we just got burnt.
“Do you know why Harley is outside?” he asks. I nod.
“She has the way to choose… ‘ make her dreams come true’ . But she’s missing a name and a beta guard. She hoped they would come, but they didn’t show.”
I can see the sadness for Harley on his face. Frankie doesn’t have a poker face, and I love that about him. He’s empathic and so so sweet.
Miranda enters the room, her suspicious gaze immediately landing on us.
"See you when my dreams come true," I whisper and he gives me the smallest of nods, his eyes saying everything his voice cannot. Be careful.
As I prepare for bed that night, I run my finger over the ticket hidden beneath my mattress, "Pack Kingsley" written in my neatest handwriting. There's poetry to it, using Jonathan's own name against him. Let him feel what it's like to be forced against your will.
Just as I'm tucking the ticket back into its hiding place, I hear someone out in the hallway. I rush to my door, worried I’ve been caught out, but it's Harley.
Blueberries. Pancakes. The scent. It’s barely there, but shit, how? What? The grief that's haunted her for days has been replaced by something else. Hope and a secretive smile that she's trying and failing to hide as she looks at me.
I wink over at her and she giggles. Holy shit.
I close my door, leaning against it as pieces fall into place. Somehow, someway, Harley has found her blueberry pancakes alpha.
* * *
The theater is packed, every seat filled with alphas eager to see which lucky pack will win the omega lottery today. The air is thick with tension and competing alpha pheromones, making my head spin slightly as we're led backstage.
Harley stands beside me, dressed in jeans just like me. She's beaming and I just know her pack is here for her now. I’d been so worried about her. I knew if she couldn’t have her dream, that I was gonna tell her to run with me. I squeeze her hand, trying to offer what comfort I can.
Veronica bustles around us, making last-minute adjustments to our appearance. I'm wearing a gold top that shimmers with every movement, cut low in the back and jeans that hug my curves in a way that makes me feel powerful. If I'm going to cause a scene today, I might as well look damn good doing it.
"Remember your manners," Veronica hisses as the announcer's voice booms through the speakers, introducing the ceremony. "This is being broadcast live to the entire city."
Good. Let everyone see what's about to happen.
Harley goes first. I watch from the side of the stage as she walks out, the perfect picture of omega grace and beauty. The crowd murmurs appreciatively, alphas shifting forward in their seats for a better view.
The announcer makes a show of the lottery, explaining the process for anyone who might be watching for the first time. Harley stands beside the large barrel, her face serene as she reaches in, pretending to search through the tickets.
I hold my breath, my hand closing around my own ticket in the pocket of my jeans. I have no idea what name she'll pull. But I know it will have blueberry pancakes in there.
"Pack Bentley!" Harley announces, her voice carrying clearly through the theater.
A cheer goes up from the crowd as a group of alphas race down the aisles. They make their way to the stage, five of them in total, all good looking. The alpha in front is tall and lean, with dark hair and striking pale blue eyes.
As he reaches the stage, a familiar scent hits me—blueberry pancakes. My jaw drops. It's him. It's actually him.
She did it. She got her dream. Holy fuck.
Relief for Harley floods through me, followed immediately by worry for myself. If Jonathan doesn't suspect her of rigging the lottery, maybe my own plan is still safe. I push the thought away. I can't change now. I will have to pull a ticket regardless and if it’s not Jonathan’s pack, it will be one of the randoms I let in there. And then no chaos and no easy getaway.
“Storm,” Veronica hisses beside me and I can see the announcer staring at me. Veronica then storms out after Harley and her pack. Fuck, she would know it was rigged. Fuck, fuck, fuck . Breathe Storm. You can do this.
This is it. My moment.
I walk to the center of the stage, feeling hundreds of eyes tracking my every move. The announcer introduces me, and I tune him out, focusing instead on the barrel of tickets before me. I spin it when he says so. It goes round and round to the beat of my heart. It's like time’s standing still and I can't breathe as I reach in, making a show of swirling my hand through the tickets. Hoping that I don’t accidentally drop my ticket in there. I suck in a deep breath and put on my big smile. Then, confidently, I pull out the ticket I had palmed before I even stepped on stage and show it to the announcer.
"Pack Kingsley!" he announces, his voice ringing through the theater.
A shocked silence falls for a split second, followed by an uproar of confusion and anger. “Can't enter the lottery,” “but he runs the Omega House.” “It's against every rule of the system.” Are just some of the words the alphas are yelling out.
Alphas leap from their seats, shouting about corruption and rigged lotteries. Some push toward the stage, only held back by security. The announcer tries desperately to restore order, but it's too late. Chaos has erupted exactly as I planned.
I scan the crowd, looking for my opportunity to slip away in the confusion. This is my chance. I need to make it to the side exit, down the alley, and to Crescent Avenue, where Rook is waiting.
But before I can move, a large figure vaults onto the stage from the side. Jonathan. His face is a mask of cold fury, green eyes blazing as he stalks toward me. He grabs the microphone and looks out to the crowd.
“This may come as a shock to you all, but my pack and I are retiring as the alphas of the Omega House. We entered our name, hoping to find our own omega. And we have now found that with Storm.”
If he thinks that’s gonna stop the crowd, he was wrong. They curse and boo at him.
"Storm," he growls, low enough that only I can hear.
I back up a step, triumph and fear warring within me. "Jonathan?” I tilt my head to the side.
His nostrils flare as he inhales my scent, no doubt picking up on my adrenaline and the undercurrent of dark chocolate.
For a moment, something flickers in his eyes—not just anger, but something deeper, more complex. Hurt, maybe? Betrayal? Whatever it is, it vanishes as quickly as it appeared, replaced by cold determination.
Before I can react, he moves with alpha speed I've never witnessed before, sweeping me off my feet and tossing me over his shoulder like I weigh nothing. The breath whooshes from my lungs as my stomach connects with his shoulder.
The theater spins in my vision as he turns. Through the disorientation, I catch one last glimpse of Harley, her eyes meeting mine across the distance in a moment of perfect clarity amidst the chaos. I wink over at her. He picks up his phone and calls someone.
“Meet me out back.” His words are clipped.
His shoulder digs into my stomach as he carries me through the back of the theater, his grip on my legs like iron. He scoops up my backpack as I continue to struggle, kicking and punching, but it's like hitting a brick wall. I really need him to let me go to make this work.
"Little Omega," he growls, pushing through an exit door into the cool night air.
I twist, trying to get my bearings. We're in an alley behind the theater. There is security there. Protesting beta-born alphas start yelling abuse at Jonathan. So close to Crescent Avenue. So close to Rook. I whimper.
But Jonathan isn't letting me down.
"No!" I whine, renewing my struggles. "Let me go, asshole.”
He shifts me slightly, adjusting his grip, but doesn't slow down.
As he approaches the car, the door swings open, revealing the other member of his pack. Reed Howard, his stormy eyes taking in the scene with what might be amusement.
"Jonathan, what the fuck?" Reed hisses out under his breath. Yeah, guess he didn’t expect the night to go this way. I sure as hell didn’t plan this. I need to get away from them and find Rook.
"Shut up and help me get her in," Jonathan snaps, his patience clearly at an end.
As Jonathan moves to deposit me in the car, I make one last desperate attempt, sinking my teeth into his shoulder without breaking skin. It won’t bond me to him, but maybe it will mess with his alpha instincts and he will loosen his hold on me. But then what? Run into a crowd of unbonded alphas? This isn't how it was supposed to go. This isn't part of the plan. Fuck, I forgot about the protesters in my plan. There was no way I could leave this theater without being recognized.
Jonathan lets out a pained growl but doesn't loosen his grip. Instead, he leans down, his mouth close to my ear, his voice a dangerous rumble that sends involuntary shivers down my spine.
"You want to play games, Storm?"
I'm shoved unceremoniously into the back seat of a sleek black car. Jonathan slides in beside me, his large body blocking any chance of escape. The door slamming shut behind us with a finality that makes my stomach drop.
Reed’s stormy blue eyes narrow in the rearview mirror at me as they move from Jonathan to me and back again. His face hardens into something dangerous.
"What the fuck did you do?" I hear him hiss at Jonathan.
"I didn't do shit, just drive," Jonathan snaps back, still keeping me restrained. Not that I’m struggling. There’s no point.
Reed's jaw clenches. "Our name wasn't supposed to be in that lottery," he growls.
"Someone put our name in the draw," Jonathan says through gritted teeth. "I think it was a setup. To give the last push to tip the uprising into a rebellion."
As the car pulls away from the theater, the reality of my situation hits me with crushing force. Oh fuck. I didn’t think. I should have known this would cause issues. All I wanted was a way to find Rook. Instead, I might have started a rebellion.
I chose Pack Kingsley.
And now I have to live with the consequences.