“Sir, I cannot allow you inside at this time-” He began to argue as I cut him off.
“I’m the future mate of Arabella, you never had a problem with it before,” I said, my voice lowering as he looked around nervously. “Now, where is she, and when is she coming back?” I asked, the sick feeling growing within me. He looked around, stammering. I was about to step up to him and demand an answer, but something hit my senses. The moment I stepped inside, I caught it. The scent was stronger this time - infinitely stronger. My pulse exploded. I knew that scent - I’d been dreaming about it for months. But this was real, not a replica.
Following it felt almost involuntary. I moved through the house, despite the staff ordering me, then begging me, to leave. I followed the scent, the pure fragrance growing stronger. It was so much more intense and beautiful - better than the replica could ever capture. I went up a staircase, down a quiet hallway, and toward a section of the house I had never once been shown during any of our visits.
The scent grew stronger with every step, every note full and tantalizing. But something was wrong, and I could smell it even now. By the time I reached the final door, my hands were shaking. I pushed the door in, and the room beyond made my jaw drop open in shock.
It was tiny, the furniture old and shabby compared to the other rooms in this house. I’d been upstairs before - I knew Arabella had an entire suite for herself. So why was this scent, which supposedly belonged to her, absolutely drenching this tiny room?
But that wasn’t the main issue. Once I was inside, the scent hit me fully. It was beautiful - like fresh rain and white flowers. But it was also dripping with distress, the bitter scent of exhaustion and illness lacing the fragrance. There was also the horrible tang of dehydration. I looked down at the floor, and beneath it all, I saw a messy comforter and the unmistakable aftermath of a recent heat.
My medical training took over immediately. I’d smelled this scent before, in dire situations. This room carried lingering evidence of severe physiological stress. Every instinct and every piece of professional knowledge I possessed pointed toward the same conclusion. The omega who had occupied this room had gone through a strong heat cycle alone. Worse than that, she had gone through it after prolonged suppression, the heat so strong that it had pushed her body far beyond healthy limits.
I felt sick to my stomach. This was beyond horrific - and nothing was making sense. Because whoever released this scent had been through a long, multi-day, dangerous heat alone. AndArabella had been with us all this past week. I looked around, my body shaking as I realized whose room I was in.
My stomach dropped. No. It couldn't be!
The bed was barely disturbed. The furniture was sparse and bare. There were very few personal items, but the ones that were there were unmistakable. Ivy’s clothes, Ivy's laptop, and Ivy’s notebook that she carried to all our meetings.
Then my gaze landed on something crumpled near the floor. A scarf, the one I’d scented for Ivy - it was on the ground, in what appeared to be the comforter used as a sparse, sad nest. I fell to my knees, reaching over the blanket that smelled of sweat, distress, and dried slick. I touched the scarf, the one I thought about often. Slowly, I picked it up. The fabric still carried my scent - and hers. The real perfume, the one from the gala.
The scent Arabella had never once produced naturally.
I stood up, backing toward the doorway, my pulse hammering. Ivy had been here, isolated, going through a heat alone. Ivy was the one we scented. The answer hit me so hard I nearly fell.
Ivy wasn’t lying. Ivy had been telling the truth.
I walked out of her room, in a daze as the pieces started to come together. I moved through the house, and my memories began rearranging themselves in my mind. My mind flashed back to the descenter burns on Ivy's skin - Arabella had said she self-harmed, but she was clearly suppressing her perfume toan extreme extent. I remembered how Ivy ate quickly whenever food was available, as though she had learned not to trust when the next meal might come. Her constant apologizing for small things, and the way she shut herself down whenever her family was near. How everyone in that family talked about her while she sat silently and absorbed it.
Then I noticed something else as I walked down the hallway. The photographs lining the walls had Arabella and the rest of the family pack, some photos individual and others including the whole group. But as I walked down the hall, I realized that in none of them did I see Ivy. I kept looking. There wasn’t a single one. By the time I reached the bottom floor, I was shaking - not from horror, but from rage.
"Where is she?" I demanded, my hands gripping the scarf so hard my knuckles went white. The staff, which was now a group of three, looked terrified.
"We - we don't know." One of them said.
"What do you mean you don't know?" I asked, taking a step forward. The force behind my voice made all three of them visibly flinch. I may not be an alpha, but I could be just as mean as one when someone I cared about was threatened. “When was the last time anyone saw her?" I asked as the oldest woman swallowed.
"A few days ago." She said meekly. My pulse immediately raced at the thought of where she could be.
"A few days ago?" I repeated. "After she came out of heat? That omega needs medical attention! Who was with her?" I asked, my mind spinning at what she might have gone through. The silence that followed told me everything.
"She was alone." One of them said, his eyes downcast. "It wasn't our decision.” I didn't care whose decision it was. “She did have a guard.”
"A guard?" I said, so angry that I could barely speak.
"Yes - a beta." For a moment I simply stared at the worker.
"A beta guard." The words felt absurd even leaving my mouth. "As if that somehow makes any of this acceptable. A guard isn’t what she needed.” I said, my anger escalating as I spoke. “She needed help! She needed alphas, she needed someone to care whether she lived or died!" I shouted as the woman visibly recoiled.
"It wasn't our choice." She said, fear in her eyes. I shook my head, my anger filling to the brim.
"Don’t you understand? The heat I smelled wasn't normal." The words came out faster now as the medical side of my brain took over completely. "Her body was overloaded. Her heat was suppressed for far too long, and when it breaks through that level of suppression, it would have been exponentially harder on her system." The youngest staff member's face immediately paled.
"We were told it was necessary." I reared back as the woman spoke. "The family wanted Ivy's cycle delayed."
My eyes widened at her words. "Why?"
The woman hesitated, looking around, as if she could get caught. Then she whispered, "Arabella had appearances scheduled." My mind immediately raced back to every event from the past several months. The launch party. The interviews. The dates with our pack. Surely they wouldn't have… but the evidence was clear. This was beyond anything I’d ever imagined.
