Chapter 4
Maya
I walk quickly toward Nadia’s trailer, my heart hammering against my ribs.
I can still hear it—that small, soft sound that came out of me before I could stop it.
Adrian‘s face, eyes widening. Bash’s breath catching.
And Elias, standing in the doorway, naming what I am before I can say it myself.
Omega. Heat. Pre-heat. The words keep circling through my head, impossible to ignore.
Two crew members pass me, laughing about something, and I duck my head, careful to keep my distance. The sharp smell of their coffee hits me like a physical thing—rich and bitter and so strong it makes my eyes water.
I cut across the back lot, avoiding the main pathways where people might be.
The trailer is fifty yards away, its aluminum sides gleaming in the late afternoon sun.
I count my steps as I walk, trying to focus on something other than the tightness in my throat, the weird heat crawling under my skin.
One, two, three. The production has two weeks left.
I just need to get through two weeks without this...
whatever it is... getting worse. Without anyone deciding I suddenly can't do the job I've been doing since day one.
The truth sits heavy in my stomach. I can't explain what happened in that room or the way my body reacts to them.
But that's a problem for later.
Right now, I just need to get through the day.
Nothing about my schedule changed. Nothing about the call sheets changed. I can still do my job.
I reach the trailer and knock twice, my knuckles stinging against the metal. The door opens before I can knock again. Nadia peers out, her eyebrows lifting in surprise.
“Hey,” she says. “I thought you were still at the security checkpoint. Come in.”
I step into the trailer, the smell hitting me immediately—vanilla body spray and cucumber lotion and the faint, sweet scent of the apple Nadia’s been eating. Normally, I wouldn’t notice. Now it wraps around me from every direction, thick enough to make the air feel crowded.
I wait until the door closes behind me before I speak. “I need your help.”
Nadia pauses in the middle of reaching for her water bottle. “What happened?”
“What you said last night. About late presentations.” The words feel strange in my mouth, like I’m speaking a language I don‘t fully understand. “It’s happening. Right now.”
Her eyes widen. “You‘re presenting?”
“I don’t know. Maybe?” I sink into the small couch, my legs suddenly weak. “I was in the security checkpoint, checking props, and Adrian and Bash came in. And I—“ I stop, the memory of the sound still burning in my ears. “I made this sound. This noise. Like a...” I can’t say it.
“Like a purr,” Nadia finishes for me, her voice low. She sits down next to me. “An omega purr.”
I nod, the motion jerky. “And then Elias was there. He said it was pre-heat. That I’m going into heat.
” The word feels foreign in my mouth. “I need to know if there’s something I can take.
Pills or supplements or—I don’t know, essential oils.
Anything to make it stop, or at least slow it down until we finish the production. ”
Nadia’s face shifts, concern replacing surprise. “Maya, if you’re going into pre-heat, that’s not something you can just take a pill for. It’s your body’s way of—“
“I know what it is,” I interrupt. “And I know it's not supposed to happen to someone who's spent twenty-eight years thinking she's a beta. But it is happening, and I have two weeks left on this job. I just need to get through two weeks without...” I gesture vaguely at my body. “Without this.”
She studies my face for a long moment. “Are you sure that’s what’s happening? Have you talked to a doctor?”
“I don’t need a doctor,” I say. “I need something to make the symptoms stop. I can’t work like this.
The smells are driving me crazy. And the crowds—“ I stop, remembering the way the set suddenly felt too small, too full, the voices piling on top of each other until I couldn’t think.
“I can’t handle it. Not until we’re done. ”
Nadia sighs, running a hand through her hair.
“There are suppressants. Most omegas use them, especially the ones who work. But they’re not a quick fix.
They take time to build up in your system.
And if you’re already in pre-heat...” She shakes her head.
“You‘d need a prescription anyway. And a doctor‘s visit.”
“I can’t wait that long,” I say. “Isn’t there something else? Something you have now that might help?”
She hesitates, then reaches for her bag, pulling out a small silver case.
“I have these,” she says, opening it to reveal a row of small white tablets.
“They’re not real suppressants. Just herbal blockers.
They help with scent and sensitivity, but they won’t stop anything if your body’s really determined to go into heat. ”
I grab for them, then stop, my hand hovering over the case. “Will they help with the crowds? The noises? The—“ I drop my voice. “The purring?”
“They might,” she says. “But Maya, this isn't just a symptom you treat and move on from. If you're presenting as an omega, that's a major life change. It's not just about scent or sensitivity. You need to understand what's happening.”
“This doesn't change who I am,” I say, the words sharp. “I'm the person who keeps the production running. I'm the one who makes sure everyone has what they need. I'm the assistant who coordinates the coordinators. That doesn't change just because my body decides to do something weird.”
She studies me for a long moment, her expression softening.
“Okay,” she says finally. “Take one now and one before bed. They’ll help with the sensitivity and the scent.
But you’re still going to feel different.
And if your body’s really going into heat...
” She pauses. “You might need more help than these can give you.”
I nod, reaching for the tablets. “Thanks. I’ll be fine. Two weeks, and then I can figure out the rest. If I can just finish this production, no one can say I couldn't do my job."
She doesn’t look convinced, but she doesn’t argue. “Just... be careful, okay? Alphas can tell. They’ll know something’s different about you.”
“They already do,” I say, thinking of Adrian's concern, Bash's attention, and the certainty in Elias's voice. “That’s part of the problem.”
I slip one of the tablets from the case and dry-swallow it, grimacing at the chalky taste. It sticks in my throat for a second before going down.
“How long until it starts working?” I ask.
“Twenty minutes, maybe,” Nadia says. “You should feel calmer. The scents won’t be so overwhelming.”
I nod, already feeling better just knowing there‘s a plan. “I should get back. The transition’s starting soon, and I need to check in with the AD.”
“You sure you’re okay?” she asks. “You can take a few minutes. The first AD knows you’re here.”
“I’m fine,” I say, standing up. I say it so often lately it barely feels like a real answer anymore, but this time it feels a little more true. The tablet sits in my stomach, a small, solid promise of normal. “Thanks for the help. I’ll see you at the scene change.”
She nods, watching me with worried eyes as I head for the door. “Maya,” she calls as I step outside. “Whatever happens... I’m here, okay? No matter what.”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak, and close the door behind me.
The late afternoon sun hits my face, warm but not overwhelming.
I take a deep breath, testing. The air still carries a hundred different scents—the rubber from the tires of the equipment trucks, the artificial smoke from the special effects test earlier, the lingering traces of the lunch the craft services team served three hours ago—but they‘re not hitting me with the same force. It’s like someone turned down the sensitivity on my nose. Nadia's blockers are working.
I check my watch. 4:47. If I hurry, I can make it back to the set before the transition starts.
I cut across the back lot again, staying close to the equipment trucks where there are fewer people.
My head feels clearer, the weird heat under my skin cooling to something more manageable.
Maybe this wasn't progressing as quickly as Nadia feared.
Maybe the blockers would buy me enough time to finish what I started.
I’m almost to the side entrance when I see him—Elias Stone, standing at the edge of the parking area, watching me.
My steps falter. The blocker in my system might as well be sugar for all the good it's doing now.
Because the moment I see him, the tightness in my throat returns.
The heat flickers back under my skin. And something in my chest wants to make that sound again—that soft, involuntary sound I still can't believe came from me.
I force myself to keep walking, to look straight ahead. If I don‘t acknowledge him, maybe he’ll leave me alone. Maybe he’ll decide he was wrong, that what he saw was just stress or exhaustion or—
“Maya.”
His voice stops me in my tracks. I turn, my heart hammering, to find him standing closer than I expected—close enough that I can catch his scent.
Not cologne or deodorant, but something underneath, something that’s just him.
Clean. Controlled. Grounding. The blocker isn’t working for this. Nothing is.
“What?” My voice comes out sharper than I intended.
His expression doesn’t change. “You shouldn’t walk to the subway alone. Not right now.”
The words hit me like ice water. “Why not?”
“You know why.” His voice is matter-of-fact. “Pre-heat makes omegas vulnerable. Especially ones who‘ve never experienced it before.”
I glance around, making sure no one’s close enough to hear. “Keep your voice down,” I hiss. “And I‘m fine. I don’t need a ride. I don’t need anything from you.”
“You need to get home safely,” he says. “That’s all I’m offering.”
“I’m not an omega,” I say, the lie bitter on my tongue. “Whatever you think you saw—“
“I didn’t think anything,” he interrupts. “I know what I saw. And so do Wells and Kane.”
Their names make my stomach drop. Adrian and Bash. They know. They’ve known since that moment in the security checkpoint, since the sound I couldn’t control.
“I have to go,” I say, stepping back. “I have work to do.”
“You’re not going back to set.” Elias doesn't phrase it like a question. “You’re going home. To rest. To figure out what happens next.”
The fact that he says it like the decision has already been made sends a flare of irritation through me. "You don't get to tell me what to do," I say. "I have responsibilities and people counting on me."
“People who will understand if you need to take a day,” he says. “The second AD already knows you’re not feeling well. I told her you’d be back tomorrow.”
“You what?” The word comes out too loud. I glance around again, lowering my voice. “You had no right to do that. No right to say anything about me to anyone.”
“It’s done,” he says simply. “Go home, Maya. Get some rest. We‘ll talk tomorrow.”
I want to argue. Want to tell him he’s overstepping, that he has no idea what I need or what I’m capable of.
But the blocker is already wearing off, the sensitivity returning in waves.
And underneath it all is that same, strange pull—the part of me that wants to step closer, not farther away.
The part that recognizes something in him that my conscious mind refuses to name.
“I’m leaving,” I say instead. “Alone. Don‘t follow me.”
I turn and walk quickly toward the studio gate, my shoulders tight with the effort of not looking back.
But I feel it—the weight of his eyes on me, watching as I go.
Halfway to the gate, I risk a glance over my shoulder.
He’s still there, standing exactly where I left him, his posture relaxed but his attention fixed entirely on me.
I push through the gate, flashing my ID at the guard without slowing down.
The subway station is three blocks away.
I can make it. I just need to keep moving, to focus on putting one foot in front of the other.
To ignore the growing awareness that someone is behind me—not hurrying to catch up, not calling my name, just... there. Present. Watching.
I should be angry. Should be creeped out. Should be planning the strongly worded email I’m going to send to HR about overprotective security guys who can’t take no for an answer.
But that's not what I feel. As I walk with Elias twenty paces behind me, the tightness in my throat eases. The heat under my skin settles into something more manageable. For the first time all day, I don't feel like I'm fighting my own body.
I should be relieved.
Instead, all I can think about is how little control I have over any of it.
Control. That’s what I’m losing. That‘s what this is about. Not just the scents or the sounds or the way my body responds to certain people. It’s about control—the thing I‘ve built my life around, the thing that makes me good at my job. The thing that’s slipping through my fingers with every step I take.
I reach the subway station and pause at the top of the stairs, forcing myself not to look back. But I know he’s there. I can feel the weight of his gaze.
It should make me angry. It should make me feel managed.
Instead, it makes me feel seen.
The realization sits heavy in my stomach. I'm changing, but that doesn't erase everything I've built. I just don't know if anyone else will remember that.
I take a deep breath and start down the stairs, aware of every movement and sensation. The handrail is rough beneath my palm, the station carrying its usual mix of concrete, metal, and lingering human scent, and all the while I'm conscious of Elias's presence.
I reach the bottom of the stairs and turn toward the platform, my reflection ghosting across the dark glass of the security booth. For a second, I don’t recognize myself—this woman with wide eyes and flushed cheeks, this stranger who purrs when alphas enter the room.
The blockers help. They dull the edges and make the world less overwhelming, but they don't change what's happening.
Behind me, twenty paces back, Elias waits at the top of the stairs.
I step onto the platform and take my place in line, suddenly aware of my body in a way I've never been before.