Then I catch it. That scent from before. Warm hay and saddle leather mixed with wild honey.Dustin.
Every bone in my body tells me to rebel, to run toward that scent instead of away from it. My heart starts hammering in my chest, my pulse racing so fast I can feel it in my throat. He's here. He came back.
But why? For me? Or is he one of the high roller Alphas Graves mentioned, here to choose some other Omega while I stand in the background as a cautionary tale?
I swallow nervously as Graves gestures for me to sit at one of the tables. The cafeteria has been set up differently than usual, tables arranged in neat rows so we can be viewed easily, like livestock at an auction.
I start to comply, my feet moving toward an empty chair, but that scent gets stronger and something in me snaps. I can't sit here and watch him choose someone else. I can't be good and obedient when everything in me is screaming to go to him.
I dash back out into the hall, following the scent trail. It gets stronger with every step, pulling me forward with an intensity that drowns out rational thought. This is Dustin's scent mixed with something that feels like freedom, because why else would he have come here? And if he isn’t here for me, if this is all some cosmic joke, then I'll take my punishment willingly. But I want out so badly I can taste it.
The scent leads me around a corner as I start running, my bare feet slapping against the floor, small echoes bouncing off the walls. I can hear Graves shouting behind me, but I don't stop. I can't stop.
Alpha Marcus appears in front of me, blocking the hallway, bringing my escape to an immediate halt. His hand shoots out and grabs my arm, yanking me off to the side so suddenly I nearly fall. "Where do you think you're going?"
A distressed whine tears from my throat, pure instinct overriding everything else as I try to pull away but his grip leaves me helpless.Shit.I tug at his hand, whimpering for him to release me, tears clouding my vision as I realize what hole I’ve dug myself into. Everything will be worse from now on. Forget isolation. I have no idea what hell awaits me now.
"What is going on here?"
The voice stops me from fighting, warmth blooming in my chest against my will. It's not Dustin's but I love it anyway, deep and commanding with an edge of danger underneath. The scent that comes with it is incredible. Cedarwood and leather with undertones of woodsmoke and earth. It wraps around me, my knees going weak as heat blooms in my lower belly.
Two people come into view at the end of the hallway and my breath catches in my throat. Dustin looks nothing like he did yesterday at the fairgrounds. Gone is the casual cowboy with the open plaid shirt and sun-warmed skin. Instead, he's wearing a suit that looks expensive even to my untrained eyes, dark fabric perfectly tailored to his frame, his hair neatly combed back instead of tousled by wind and work.
The casual, sun-bronzed rancher has been completely replaced by someone who looks wealthy and powerful and entirely out of my league. But his eyes are the same. Those warm brown eyes that looked at me yesterday with such genuine interest are focused entirely on me now, even as he maintains a careful distance.
The other Alpha walking beside him is even more striking than I would have gathered from his voice. He's tall and broad-shouldered with dark brown eyes that seem to miss nothing as they sweep across the scene before him, taking in Alpha Marcus' grip on my arm, Graves' flustered expression, and my tear-stained face in one assessing glance.
He's dressed in a suit as well, a charcoal gray that fits him so perfectly it must have been custom-made, something about the way he carries himself that demands attention. His presence fills the entire hallway without him having to do anything at all, commanding attention without any visible effort or posturing. This must be the Alpha of Dustin’s pack, an Alpha who’s both slightly terrifying and one who intrigues me and calls out to my Omega.
He looks between me, Alpha Marcus still gripping my arm hard enough to bruise, and Graves who has just caught up to us, slightly out of breath from chasing me down the hallway. A smirk plays at the corner of his mouth, the expression more predatory than amused. "Is this how you treat them all? Or are they all this unruly?"
My heart sinks into my stomach and I feel the small flicker of hope that had been building since I caught Dustin's scent get snuffed out completely. These two Alphas must be just like all the rest who come through Harmony House. Coming here to judge and assess and evaluate, looking for an omega who will be compliant and easy to control, someone who won't cause problems or require too much effort. Of course, it was too good to be true.
Graves laughs nervously as she smooths her blazer with both hands in a gesture I recognize as her tell when she's uncomfortable. "Yes, well, they need proper instruction. Some more than others, as you can see quite clearly. Let me show you to the cafeteria where we have a lovely selection of Omegas who would be much better suited to your needs. Omegas who have completed our full training program and understand proper behavior."
"No." The dark-haired Alpha's voice cuts through her rambling explanation. "I think I've found the Omega I want."
Time seems to stop completely. I stare at him with wide eyes, certain I must have misheard or misunderstood what he just said. But he's looking directly at me, his intense expression unreadable, no mistaking the certainty in his voice.
Graves clears her throat, her professional composure slipping for just a moment before she forces it back into place. "Mr. Jameson, surely you'd want someone else. This Omega has been quite difficult during her time with us. She broke rules just yesterday and is currently facing disciplinary action for inappropriate contact with an unmated Alpha. We have many others who are far more suitable for a distinguished gentleman such as yourself."
Alpha Marcus looks between the four of us, glaring at Dustin a little longer than necessary but he makes no move to speak. Which means he doesn’t recognize Dustin. This could work in my favor or it could be my worst nightmare.
Every moment, the stern Alpha—Mr. Jameson—is here, though, I think that maybe, justmaybe, Dustin isn’t my knight in shining armor.
"Don't make me repeat myself." Mr. Jameson’s voice doesn't rise in volume, but the authority in it is unmistakable, making Graves take an involuntary step backward. "I was told that if I came in here with a check and the right words, I'd walk out with my very own Omega. Is that wrong? Did I misunderstand the terms of our arrangement?"
Graves straightens up immediately, her professional mask slipping firmly back into place as dollar signs probably flash through her mind. "No, you are absolutely correct. There's some paperwork to draw up and a one-month trial period to ensure that she is the right fit for you and your household. Just standard procedure to protect all parties involved. Shall we move to my office?"
Alpha Marcus hasn’t let go of me, his fingers digging painfully into my arm hard enough that I know there will be bruises later but my attention is elsewhere. I find myself staring at Dustin across the distance between us, feeling betrayed and confused and lost.
He came back for me but not to rescue me the way I'd fantasized about during my long night in isolation. He came with money to buy me, just like any other Alpha who walks through these doors with a checkbook and the right connections. And now this other Alpha, this Mr. Jameson, is claiming me based on what exactly? Seeing me for thirty seconds in a hallway while I was having a breakdown?
But then I notice the anger blazing in Dustin's eyes. It's the same fury I saw yesterday when the Warden hit him, that barely controlled rage that made his whole body tense with the effort of holding it back. The anger is directed squarely at Alpha Marcus and the way he's gripping my arm, at Graves and her dismissive words about my supposed difficulties, at this entire situation that has forced him to stand there and watch instead of intervening.
His jaw is pulled tight enough that I can see the muscle jumping beneath his skin, and his hands are clenched into fists at his sides so hard his knuckles have gone white. He's barely holding himself together, and I can see it taking everything he has not to cross the distance between us and rip Marcus' hand off my arm.
Maybe... maybe this is freedom after all.
