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.
Chapter 5
Adrian
I close our trailer door behind me, the soft click barely audible over the hum of the air conditioning. The small space feels too warm despite the cooling system working at full power. I drop my bag on the bench by the door and stretch, feeling the pleasant burn in my shoulders from the stunt sequence we filmed today. Bash isn’t back from his final costume check yet—his side of the trailer is still, the small desk lamp casting shadows across his rumpled script pages. I move to the small fridge tucked under the counter and pull out a water.
The water is cool going down, exactly what I need after six hours of filming. My throat feels parched, my skin tight with makeup I haven’t fully removed. Tomorrow’s schedule sits on the small table between the two bunks, highlighted in my handwriting—another early call, another day of stunts and fight choreography.
But my mind isn’t on tomorrow’s scenes.
Instead, I keep seeing Maya. The way her eyes went wide when she turned around and found us in the security checkpoint room. The slight catch in her breath, the flush spreading across her cheeks. And then that sound—soft and low and entirely unintentional—that passed her lips before she could stop it.
I've known omegas my whole life. But I’ve never seen someone so clearly in the middle of presenting, so obviously unprepared for what’s happening to them. She looked terrified. Confused.Like she was watching her body betray her from somewhere far away.
The water bottle crinkles in my grip. I set it down on the counter, careful not to make a sound. It’s too quiet in here. I should be tired after the day we’ve had—the fall sequence alone would have exhausted me normally—but my mind keeps circling back to the same moment in that room with Maya.
“So,” I say to the empty trailer, because keeping the thought to myself isn't helping. “Are we going to talk about the fact that we just found our omega?”
The words hang in the air. Our omega. Not a phrase I thought I’d ever say, especially not on a film set in the middle of a blockbuster production.
But there‘s no denying what happened, what we saw, what we heard.
I move to the small couch tucked under the window, dropping down with a soft thud. The fabric is rough against my skin, another reminder that I haven’t changed out of my costume shirt. I should shower. Should eat something. Should check the script for tomorrow’s scenes.
Instead, I close my eyes and let the memory play again. Maya, backing up against the desk. The sound she made—that soft, almost questioning hum that started low in her throat. The moment everything changed, written across her face in real time.
Maybe she'd known for longer than anyone realized. Or maybe she'd only realized it herself today. Either way, she'd lookedterrified. And we walked in at exactly the wrong moment—or maybe exactly the right one.
The door to the trailer opens with a bang, startling me from my thoughts. Sebastian strides in, his energy filling the small space immediately. He‘s still in costume—black jeans and a fitted gray t-shirt with the sleeves pushed up to show the edge of the fake tattoo the makeup team spent forty minutes applying this morning.
“You’re not going to believe what I just heard,” he says, dropping onto his bunk across from me. “According to the rumors, Elias took Maya home. Like, personally drove her. And he told the second AD she’s taking tomorrow off.”
I sit up straighter. “He what?”
Bash nods, a quick, sharp movement. “That‘s what Kim said. Apparently, he just showed up at her office and said Maya wasn’t feeling well, that she needed the day, and oh by the way, he’d make sure she got home safely.” His eyes narrow. “Very protective. Very... territorial.”
My chest tightens. “He knows she’s an omega.”
