Chapter 1
Shiloh
“Laptops out of the bag!Shoes off!” the TSA agent yells and I consider crying right then and there.
She stares at me like I’d offended her entire family as I slip my shoes off and put them in the bin. I hate the way this all feels, how many scents are at the airport, how many unfamiliar people are roaming the massive space.
But I needed to get back to Philadelphia and there was no way I was driving all the way there from Agoura Hills. I’d probably have a bigger meltdown driving cross country in a rental car all by myself.
I usually fly private with the guys…but that definitely won’t be happening ever again.
I slide the bin down the rolling runway and the TSA agent gives me a disgusted look. I have scent blockers on, that’s a requirement for air travel for any Omega, bonded or not. But I still have to wear an identifiable tag, the badge feels like a scarlet letter on my chest and this bitch is just making it worse.
As soon as I get through the scanner I know I’m going to get a pat down, I just fucking know it. Especially out of LAX.
Apparently no Omega in their right mind would travel alone, unless they are smuggling drugs. No matter how adamant I am that I don’t have anything illegal, they still pull me to the side.
At least the TSA agent is a woman and a Beta at that. Her hands don’t wander as she pats me down.
“What’s the reason for your travel?” she asks.
I’ve been asked this same question by nearly every employee I’ve had to deal with in this godforsaken hellhole.
The lie easily slips out of my mouth.
“My grandmother is sick, this is my last chance to see her.” I may or may not cross my fingers as I say it.
“No pack?” she asks intrusively.
No other designation here has to answer for their travel plans or explain their brutally recent breakup.
“No.”
She pats me down a few more times and gives me a nod. I go to collect my belongings, and of-fucking-course they’re being searched. The large male Alpha rifles through my bag and I have to choke down a whine.
His scent is going to linger on my stuff for days.
He reads all my pill bottles and despite the fact I’m trying to hold it together, it bothers me more than it should. I never asked for this.
All I wanted was a pack. Nick, Danny, and Ryan were supposed to be that, but apparently I was naive to think they wanted the same. I thought eventually they would want to stop touring, or at least bond me so I felt more at ease during the next tour.
Instead, they told me it wasn’t good for their image to be bonded. I stupidly thought that at least Danny would stand up for me, but he just agreed with Nick and Ryan, like he always does. I meant nothing to them and they couldn’t have made it more clear in the way they dismissed me.
I immediately called my gran and asked her if I could come back home. She agreed right away—even if I feel guilty about imposing on her. This is now the second time I’ve been discarded on her doorstep against her will. I know that she’s happy to have me, but she has a busy social life. She’s already spent so much of her life taking care of others and I feel like a burden putting her in this position again.
The guys didn’t even seem to care that I was leaving, they said that they understood and that maybe one day the universe would bring us back together. It’s a huge load of bullshit.
They wanted me around for my heats, and the comfort an Omega could bring Alphas, but they didn’t wantme. What was even more evident. They didn’t care what I wanted.
Isn’t that the whole point of this archaic designation system? If I have to be an Omega, and deal with everything that comes with it, I’m owed perks. Those perks came in the form of a pack that takes care of me, that loves me.
I wipe my eyes as the TSA agent rolls his.
“Solo Omega travel should be banned,” he says as he zips up my carry-on and I grab my large purse and place my shoes back on.
I didn’t cause a scene, no matter how badly I want to. The last thing I need is to miss this flight or be put on the no fly list for telling a TSA agent he’s an asshole with outdated, narrow-minded views.
But as I leave security and head toward my terminal, the regretful feeling that he’s right hits me in the form of a million scents. I shake my head and take a seat by the terminal agent's desk trying to ignore the chaos surrounding me.
