Chapter 21 #2
Somewhere in the middle of the third run-through, I catch sight of my reflection. My face is flushed, eyes bright, mouth curved.
I look alive.
Jess notices, bumping my shoulder. "There she is."
"Who?"
"You. You came back from wherever you were in your head. You're cute when you're not haunted."
"Wow. Rude."
She cackles. "You know what I mean. It was like you were watching your own life from the doorway and you just stepped back in."
I don't have an answer. I just shake my head and keep moving.
During a water break, Noah glances toward the big window that looks out into the main gym. His cheeks flush dark. "Is he staring again?"
Jess and I follow his gaze.
There, across the hallway in the weight area, stands an alpha with forearms like carved wood and a jaw you could cut yourself on. He's leaning against a machine, pretending to scroll through his phone, but his eyes keep sliding back to Noah.
His scent is thick possessive focus.
"That one yours?" Jess asks.
"Jonah." Noah sighs. "He insisted on coming. Said he wanted to 'check the environment.' He's been glowering at everyone between me and the exit for thirty minutes. It's embarrassing."
"It's also kind of flattering," Jess says. "If you're into panicked security guards."
"I'm into dancing without being stared at like a flight risk," Noah grumbles.
Jess leans conspiratorially closer. "What do we think—do I wink at him?"
I laugh, short and startled. "He'll break in half."
"I won't actually do it. I like my bones unpunched."
"We're fine," I say, glancing through the glass again. "He's watching, not interfering. That's good protective, not bad protective."
Noah groans. "Now I'm imagining Jonah trying to assert dominance over a door."
Jess grins. "Honestly? I'd pay to see that."
We go back to dancing. The second half flies faster. My feet get tangled more than once, but the instructor is encouraging. Every time my body stutters, my brain doesn't spiral; it just adjusts.
By the cooldown, my shirt is damp, my hairline wet, and my legs feel pleasantly heavy. We stretch in a circle, breathing slow and steady.
"Same time next week," the instructor calls. "You all did great. Seriously. I'm obsessed."
Jess flings a towel around her neck and fans herself. "If I can move tomorrow, I'll be back. Vee, right? You coming?"
"Yes. I think I am."
Noah brightens. "Okay, good. I don't want to be the only new kid. Safety in numbers."
Jess sticks out her hand. "Numbers in our case being three, but we'll take what we can get."
"I won't ignore you," I say, shaking her hand. Her palm is warm and callused, nails electric blue and chipped.
"Noah." He offers his hand too, quick and nervous. "Obviously. You knew that. Sorry. Brain's still doing the choreography."
"It'll catch up. By week three you'll be correcting the teacher."
He laughs. Jonah appears in the doorway, looming large and unmistakably alpha.
Noah rolls his eyes. "Here we go."
Jonah doesn't stride in or grab him. He just stands there, hand outstretched for Noah's bag, gaze scanning every face.
Jess lifts her eyebrows at me. "Overprotective?"
"Over-prepared. He'll relax once he trusts the door hinges."
She snorts, nearly choking on water.
We gather our things. Noah goes to Jonah, who murmurs something too low for me to catch. Noah bumps his shoulder into Jonah's side, affectionate and exasperated. Jonah's hand lands on the back of his neck, anchoring.
It doesn't make my chest hurt the way it would have a few weeks ago. It just looks like a foreign movie I don't speak the language of anymore.
Jess checks her phone. "I've got a ride coming. You?"
"Someone's waiting outside. He'll survive."
Jess grins. "See you guys next time?"
"Yes," I say again, surprised at how much I mean it.
We split at the door. I veer toward the side hallway that leads past the weight room. The air here is cooler, tinged with iron and effort.
I'm halfway past a row of benches when someone says, amused and unmistakable:
"Little omega."
My body freezes before my brain can tell it not to. The nickname lands with the weight of a memory: a zoo, a penguin enclosure, a hand on the back of my neck.
I turn slowly.
Chase sits on a weight bench like he owns the entire row. Tank top, sweat-darkened at the collar. Grey shorts. Forearms roped with muscle. He's wiping down dumbbells with a towel, but his eyes are all for me.
They rake me up and down once. Assessing. Checking.
"You," he says, like a pleasant surprise. "Didn't expect to see you here."
"I could say the same."
He huffs something like a laugh. "This place has decent equipment. And a terrible smoothie bar. I'm here for one of those."
"I'm guessing it's not the smoothies."
He smirks. "You'd be right."
His scent is strong but not suffocating. Spiced wood, something sharp and clean. It pokes at the omega instincts in my bones and finds a wall instead of an open door.
"What are you doing here, little omega? Thought your pack would keep you under lock and key after the zoo."
My jaw clenches at the memory. "I joined a dance class. Apparently it's allowed as long as someone drives me."
"Hmm." His gaze drifts briefly toward the studio window, then back. "And where's your blundering alpha today? The one who thought domineering you in public was a good look."
"Home. Paperwork. Payroll. Alpha things."
Chase arches a brow. "And they just let you wander around a gym full of strangers?"
"There's another one in the car. He's probably timing my every breath."
Chase's mouth quirks. "Which one?"
"The calm one. Glasses. Tea. Minding his own business until he's not."
"The medic. At the zoo. He looked like he wanted to take someone's throat out and do sutures at the same time."
"That's Eli. How did you know he's a medic?"
His brows rise a fraction as he ignores my question. "He's your ride, and he's staying outside."
I shrug. "He respects my autonomy."
"Or he's too used to you making yourself small to notice how exposed you are," Chase says, glancing around meaningfully.
Two alphas at the squat rack. One at the cable machine. A bonded couple on treadmills. No one's looking at me like a snack, but he's not wrong.
"I'm fine. I prefer not having someone breathing down my neck."
"Do you?" He leans forward, resting forearms on his knees. "Seems to me your pack lets you wander alone a lot. Zoo. Now here. Places teeming with other alphas. Not exactly what I'd call best practices."
I feel the flicker of what could be defensiveness, but it fizzles. "We have different definitions of best. I don't want chaperones."
"No. You want competence."
My mouth twitches. "Is that what you're selling?"
He smiles outright, slow and sharp. "I'm selling a pack where you don't walk around smelling like an unguarded minor crime scene."
It's a vivid image. I grimace. "Thanks."
He laughs, low. Sobers. "You smell off. Faded. Like someone took a scrub brush to you."
I lift my chin. "No scent blockers."
"I know. That's the problem. No good pack lets their omega walk around smelling like a question mark in a city this full of answers."
"It doesn't matter. I'm not... I don't feel like an omega anymore."
He watches me, attention heavy and unflinching. "That's not how biology works."
"It's how I work now. I'm not trying to fix it."
He leans back, one hand braced on the bench. "You said something at the zoo. About not being able to wear your own alpha's mark. You looked like someone reached into your chest and rearranged the furniture."
"That sounds melodramatic."
"It looked true. And now you're telling me you're what, happily neutered?"
I grimace at the word. My shoulders tighten. "I'm telling you pack dynamics aren't for me. Plural. Dynamics. Packs. The whole thing. Not anymore."
He stares at me for a long beat. No pity. Just assessment. A flicker of irritation.
"That's a shame. You'd probably thrive with the right people."
"I'm sure that's what everyone thinks. Right before they file their 'we couldn't make it work' reports with the OPA."
"You'd need a box of pills to keep you from going feral. You think they'll sign off on that?"
"I think I could be an exception. I'm halfway there already."
He shakes his head slowly. "That's not a flex, little omega. That's a casualty report."
"I'm not your responsibility. You don't have to fix this."
His eyes narrow. "I don't like seeing good things wasted."
"Pretty sure the registry case worker would disagree with your assessment."
He snorts. "Registry case workers like paperwork more than outcomes."
"Tell me how you really feel."
He smiles again, but it doesn't reach his eyes.
"I'm serious. My offer at the zoo wasn't a line.
My pack is searching for an omega. I know we don't know each other, but I think you'd be a good fit.
If you get tired of being mishandled, you call me.
You come meet my pack properly. You see if something in you wants to wake up again. "
Something in my gut twists, sharp and reflexive.
I push it down. "I told you. I don't think packs are for me."
"You don't think those alphas are for you. There's a difference."
"I'm not eager to repeat the experiment for a third time."
He grows serious. "That's a real shame. Your luck could always change. But anyway, you know how to find me. This place at night. Or use the number on the card I gave you."
"I don't have that card anymore. Ragon tore it up."
He gives me a look that says, clearly: you think I don't know what you keep in the back of your sock drawer.
"You remember the number. Little omegas remember exits even when they pretend they don't."
I don't confirm or deny. I do, embarrassingly, know the digits by heart.
He glances past me toward the front doors, where a familiar car just pulled up to the front. Eli's silhouette is visible through the glass, hands on the wheel, posture a tension line.
"Your babysitter's here."
"He's not—" I trail off, sigh. "Yeah. He's here."
Chase stands in one smooth movement, towel tossed over his shoulder.
"Glad you found something that makes you smile. Even if you look like you're trying very hard not to enjoy it too much."
"I liked the class. It was good."
"Then keep coming. If I see you next week, I see you. If I don't, I'll assume you're either hiding or someone finally took your instincts seriously."
"You really selling your pack this hard to every half-broken omega you meet at tourist attractions and gyms?"
"Only the ones who smell like they were somebody before someone fed them enough poison to forget it. My pack is equipped to help and I want to put that to use."
Something in my chest goes very still.
He doesn't push it. He just nods once, firm, and steps back.
"See you around, little omega. I hope."
"Goodnight, Chase."
I walk away before my feet can decide they want to stay.
Outside, the air is cooler. Eli's car is idling in the pick-up lane. He sees me and immediately leans across to open the passenger door.
I climb in, close it carefully, set my water bottle at my feet.
He looks me over quickly, scanning for distress. "How was it?"
"Good. I had fun."
The words feel like confession, not crime.
One corner of his mouth lifts. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"That's really good to hear."
I stare out the window at the passing lights, feeling the steady thud of my heart, the pleasant ache in my muscles, the echo of music in my bones.
Behind it all, somewhere deep, something small shifts. Not hunger. Not longing. Not the old raw omega ache.
Just a tiny, tentative awareness:
I could build a life that doesn't hurt this much.
Whether it includes this house, these alphas, this city is a question for another night.
Beside me, Eli drives. He doesn't reach for my hand. He doesn't fill the silence with apologies.
He just glances over once, catches the line of my mouth, the set of my shoulders, and exhales softly like he's seeing a patient's fever finally break.
I don't tell him about Chase.
Not yet.
I'm still deciding whether that conversation belongs to this pack, or to the version of me that walks into someone else's house and doesn't have to call anyone Alpha ever again.