33. Aria

33

ARIA

Closing up the salon feels like shedding a heavy coat after a long, exhausting day. The broom in my hand moves almost on its own, sweeping away the remnants of the day's hustle. My mind wanders, contemplating the quiet evening ahead, when Willow bursts through the door, leading with her butt because her hands are full of margaritas.

"I brought pregame margs!" Willow's arrival is like a ray of sunshine piercing through the monotony of my closing routine. She has a pitcher of margaritas in one hand and salt-rimmed glasses in the other. Honestly, it's the most beautiful sight I have ever seen in my entire life.

"I think I love you," I declare, the broom clattering to the floor. Who needs cleanliness when there's tequila involved? "You're officially my favorite person right now, and that's not just the margarita talking…mostly."

"I bet you say that to all the girls." Willow winks at me while setting the glasses down on the front desk. I'm closing up, and most everything is done. "Is that what you're wearing?"

"Rude." I swipe a glass and pour a marg. I take a sip and savor the tangy sweetness, the salt on the rim perfectly complementing the flavor. "This is divine, Willow, and yes, this is what I'm wearing. Why, is there a problem with my outfit?"

Willow eyes me up and down, her gaze lingering on my faded jeans and simple black T-shirt. "No, no problem at all. It's just…well, I thought maybe you'd want to dress up a bit more for tonight. It is a special occasion, after all."

I raise an eyebrow. "Special occasion? What are you talking about?"

Willow grins mischievously. "It's opening night at the Red Door." She blinks at me. "And besides, Silver Strings is playing."

Guilt and embarrassment sweep through me. That has to be Dash's band, and I never once asked what the actual band was called. I just…didn't.

I suck as an attentive omega. Listen, I'd like to say I'll totally work on it, but I'm being realistic here. I likely won't.

I nearly choke on my margarita. "Fuck, I bet that's Dash's band."

Willow sets her glass down and takes my hands in hers. "Aria, you're brilliant and beautiful and talented. You've been working your ass off at this salon, and you deserve a night out to let loose and have some fun. If that means getting all dolled up to impress a certain boy, then so be it."

I sigh, knowing Willow is right. I have been neglecting my social life in favor of long hours at the salon, and the thought of seeing Dash perform live does send a little thrill through me. He did say he is the lead singer and the guitarist.

"All right, all right, you've convinced me, but I'm going to need your help picking out an outfit. Hair is what it is." A faded pink mess. I really just haven't touched it since I initially dyed it hot pink a year ago, and somehow, by sheer stubbornness, the pink faded into a lovely shade I adore.

Willow squeals with delight, clapping her hands together. "Yes! Makeover time! Oh, Aria, we are going to make you look absolutely stunning. Also, I came prepared."

"You did what?" I nearly choke on my drink all over again.

She reaches into her bag and pulls out a cute little black dress, holding it up like it's the Holy Grail. "Ta-da! I saw this and thought of you."

I take the dress, holding it up against my body. "Willow…" I clear my throat and look at her like she's crazy. It's so small, like micro small.

If I bend over, it'll be like I'm presenting myself to the whole club.

"Nope." I shake my head and hand it back.

"Can't blame a girl for trying. You have a rocking bod. I think you should try it on, but I brought options." She pulls out another dress, this one longer, still black but more my style, not like I really have a style other than black, but it's a shift dress and tolerable.

"Maybe," I say, even though I clutch the dress to my chest.

"Try it on! We have a little time before we need to head out." Willow nudges me toward the back room, and I comply, even though I act stubborn.

I let out a sigh of relief as I enter the backroom and lock the door behind me while still clutching the dress to my chest. I finally relinquish it by setting it on a bunch of color boxes I have yet to unpack.

I strip off my work apron and quickly change into the dress Willow gave me. As predicted, it is a little tight around my chest and hips, but surprisingly, it looks good on me. No matter what I do, I just can't hide the omega tits. The length hits just above my knees, so at least I won't be showing off too much skin or presenting to every alpha I walk past.

Maybe I should wear a Depends. No.

Feeling satisfied with my outfit choice, I take a deep breath and head over to the full-length mirror on the back of the door. To my surprise, I actually look good. The dress hugs my curves in all the right places and instantly makes me feel more confident. I feel…beautiful. Maybe tonight won't be so bad after all.

I step out, and Willow's face lights up. "Oh my god, Aria, you look amazing!"

"Thanks, Willow. Really." I twirl once, feeling the fabric sway around me.

"Now let's get that hair sorted," she says.

I twirl my hand in the air. "Girl, we are in a salon, and this place can't even tame these locks."

Willow laughs and shakes her head. "Oh please, we both know that's not true. You just need a little TLC and some magic fingers." She wiggles her fingers at me playfully.

I can't help but chuckle. "All right, all right, do your worst, but I'm warning you, this mane has a mind of its own."

"Challenge accepted," Willow declares as she ushers me over to one of the styling chairs. She drapes a cape over me and gets to work, combing through my faded pink locks. "You should recolor your hair."

A flash of panic shoots through me, and I shift uncomfortably. "I could."

"You should do orange. If you put orange over this, it'll come out peachy." She kisses the air as though that is absolutely the best option. I don't think she notices my nose twitch.

I am never coloring my hair peach.

"What do you do?" I wince, because it's such a bullshit cliché question, but how else do you get to know someone?

"Omega relations," she says confidently.

"What the hell is that?" I honestly don't think I have ever heard of that.

Willow smiles at me as she grabs a curling iron. "We are new, like a baby organization. Basically, a lot of us believe that the government and alphas abuse their power when it comes to omegas, so our organization, Omega Guardians, steps in for omegas. Because we are betas, alphas don't have the same power over us."

"Their bark doesn't work."

"Exactly." She lights up. "So we work on behalf of omegas. Need a job? We've got you. An apartment? We've got you. Oh, and we just started working with Puritan Alpha Security. Actually, we have a contract meeting with them next week regarding using their service to protect omegas."

That's Malachi's service.

Why didn't he tell me?

You'd have to get to know him first.

Shut up, brain.

"Anyway," she continues, "one of my former besties is an omega, and she ran into an abusive pack, so a bunch of us got together and got her out of there."

I frown, because that sounds oddly familiar.

"So what about heats?"

"Oh, we have packs that apply, and we do a thorough background check, unlike Scent Synergy." Her tone sours at the name. I honestly never registered with Scent Synergy.

"Don't like them?" I'm way too curious for my own good.

"Hell no. There are rumors that they are burying packs who don't have a lot of money and only matching packs with omegas who have a certain net worth. They are totally corrupt."

"I had no idea."

"No one does." She snorts. "But I used to work there."

I try to shake my head in surprise, but she's holding me down. "Sorry," I whisper when she yanks my head back.

"Stay still, I'm almost done." She spins me around to face the mirror. "Voilà! What do you think?"

My jaw drops. Somehow, Willow has tamed my unruly mane into soft, beachy waves that frame my face perfectly. The faded pink looks intentional and edgy, like I just stepped out of a music video.

"Oh, hell yeah." I lean forward, feeling amazing! "Call an Uber."

"Finish that marg!" She begins chugging hers, and somehow, I don't even think she pauses. It just goes down her throat in one smooth draw.

I choose not to chug tequila.

It might be the most responsible decision I've ever made.

With my hair done and makeup applied, we head out, calling an Uber to take us to the Red Door. As soon as we slide into the backseat, Willow leans forward and gives the driver a mischievous grin. "You better take us somewhere fun, mister!" she says, her dark eyes sparkling with excitement.

The driver chuckles, glancing at us in the rearview mirror. "The Red Door, right? That's a good spot. You ladies celebrating something?"

Willow gives me a knowing look. "Just celebrating life and good friends," she replies, clinking her margarita glass against mine.

I laugh, feeling the tension from earlier start to melt away. "And amazing margaritas," I add, taking a sip. The tangy sweetness is perfect, and I can't help but smile. Willow is like that one friend who has zero impulse control, which is something I thought I had, but no. Willow allows the internal voices a chance to shine, and I love it.

Willow nudges me with her elbow. "Speaking of celebrations, did I ever tell you about the time I convinced a whole bar it was my birthday just to get free drinks?"

I shake my head, already grinning. "No, but I've got to hear this."

"Okay, so I was on spring break my junior year, and with a summer birthday, I was the last of my friend group to turn twenty-one." She rolls her eyes at that. "I found this chick online making side money selling fake IDs, so I messaged her because I don't want to live my life with FOMO, you know?"

I nod, already chuckling. "Of course. Missing out is not an option."

"Exactly!" Willow continues, her hands animated as she talks. "So I get this ID, and it's laughably bad, but my friends and I were determined. We hit this dive bar downtown, and I was ready with my sob story. I told them my dog, Sparky, had run away that morning, and all I wanted was a birthday drink to cheer me up."

I burst out laughing. "Sparky? You just made that up on the spot?"

"Yup! And it worked! People were buying me drinks left and right. By the end of the night, the whole bar was singing ‘Happy Birthday' to me. At one point, the bartender even brought out a cupcake with a candle on it!"

I clutch my sides, laughing so hard it's difficult to breathe. "I can't believe you pulled that off! What did your friends do?"

"They played along perfectly, of course! We thanked everyone for the birthday wishes, finished our drinks, and got out of there before anyone realized what happened."

The driver, clearly enjoying our antics, chimes in. "I've seen some crazy things driving people around, but that might just take the cake."

"Or the birthday cake," I quip, earning a snort of laughter from Willow. "Oh my god, Willow, that's insane!" My face feels flushed, and I know the alcohol is kicking in. "I can't believe you pulled that off!"

Willow winks at me. "What can I say? I've got skills." She leans back in her seat, a satisfied smile on her face.

"All right, ladies, it's been a pleasure," the guy says, and for the first time, I look at him. He's older, an obvious silver fox, but not my type.

Meaning he isn't a part of Clarke pack.

"Sidewalk, please," Willow sings as he stops the car beside the club, which does, in fact, have a huge red door.

I open the door and step out. The sidewalk is lit with neon lights, casting vibrant colors on the pavement. The club's large red door stands out against the dark brick building, beckoning potential patrons inside.

The air is heavy with the scent of alcohol, cigarettes, and sweat. Mixed in with that is the occasional whiff of perfume and cologne. All of that hides the scent of an omega, which I thank the stars for.

The club's music spills out onto the sidewalk, a mix of bass heavy beats and indistinguishable lyrics. The occasional shouts and laughter from inside blend with the noise of passing cars and the distant sounds of the city.

The line is wrapped around the building. Willow marches us straight to the front. The bouncer takes one look at her and waves us in, just like that. Willow really is a badass.

I have so many questions. The first being, just who is Willow?

The moment we step inside, the club assaults my senses. The air is a thick soup of alcohol, sweat, and pheromones, while the pulsing beat of the music reverberates through my body like a second heartbeat. Neon lights slice through the darkness, momentarily blinding me as they sweep across the writhing mass of bodies on the dance floor. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself, but it feels like I'm drowning in sensory overload.

I instantly hate it, but we are here for Dash and the pack.

"Come on, let's get a drink," Willow says, leading me to the bar, her hand raised high. She somehow pushes through a bunch of people without blinking. "Something fruity and fun!" she shouts.

I look around for the guys, but there are so many people in here that I can't see them, until I glance at the stage. There's a DJ in the corner, but my attention is immediately drawn to the small stage, where Silver Strings is setting up.

There's Dash, his dirty blond mullet shining under the stage lights, looking every inch the rock star. The rest of the world fades away as I watch him, my heart doing a little flip in my chest. He looks amazing, with confidence radiating off him as he tunes his guitar.

Willow clutches my hand, grabbing my attention, and passes me a drink, then she leads me through the club to a staircase, which instantly eases my tension. It's way too crowded down there, and I can feel my heart trying to beat out of my chest as I bite back my memories.

"Can you believe this is happening?" Willow shouts over the noise of the crowd.

I shake my head in disbelief. I swore to myself I would never enter a bar again, and yet somehow, here I am, in a club.

Willow nudges me as she leads us to a small booth right next to the VIP section. "See? This is fun."

I nod, taking a generous sip. Fun for an extrovert with sadistic tendencies, maybe. The alcohol warms me from the inside out, but it can't quite drown out the anxiety gnawing at my insides. I'm here for Dash, I remind myself, even as every instinct screams at me to run. I focus on my breathing, trying to stay calm, which is about as easy as herding cats while blindfolded.

I focus on the stage, the smoke, and the laser lights. It's a lot to take in.

Dash steps up to the mic, and everything else fades away. "Hey there, Red Door!" he shouts to the crowd. "Are you ready?"

He points the mic at the crowd. He's a charmer, that's for damn sure. "That's what I fucking thought." He winks, and I'm pretty sure every girl down there swoons.

I want to murder them all.

Omega rage is no joke.

He starts to play, his voice rich and powerful as it fills the room. I watch, mesmerized, as he loses himself in the music.

Just as I'm beginning to relax, someone bumps into our table, spilling my drink. I look up to see an alpha, towering and intimidating, and panic claws at my chest.

The alpha leers at me, his eyes raking over my body in a way that makes my skin crawl. "Hey there, sweet girl," he slurs, his breath reeking of alcohol. "Why don't you come dance with me?"

I shrink back into the booth, my heart pounding. Memories of that night flash through my mind—rough hands, cruel laughter, and pain. My lungs seize up, refusing to cooperate, while my mind becomes a jumbled mess of half formed thoughts and primal fear.

Willow steps between us, her stance protective. "Back off, asshole," she snaps out, her voice like steel. "She's not interested."

The alpha snarls, his eyes flashing red, a predatory gleam that sends ice through my veins. "Mind your own business, beta bitch," he rumbles, his words slurring together. "This is between me and that omega." He jabs a finger at me, and I can almost feel the weight of his gaze, pinning me in place like a butterfly to a board.

I freeze like Bambi's mama. I know I'm in danger, but there isn't shit I can do about it.

Willow doesn't flinch. She meets his gaze head-on, her stance reminiscent of a seasoned fighter rather than a typical beta. "I said back off. Now." There's a steel in her voice that I've never heard before, and for a moment, I wonder just how much I really know about my new friend.

For a tense moment, they stare each other down, then, miraculously, the alpha backs away, muttering curses under his breath. Willow watches him go, her body still tense and ready.

I let out a shaky breath I didn't realize I was holding. "Thank you, I need to get out of here," I whisper to Willow, my voice shaking.

I'm so going to vomit all over myself.

She doesn't hesitate. "Let's go." She grabs my hand and stands up. She literally hands her drink to some random employee. "Take care of this for me, will ya?"

She doesn't once say anything about him calling me an omega.

My fingers tremble as I fumble with my phone, guilt twisting my stomach into knots. I manage to snap a blurry picture of Dash on stage, his figure haloed by the spotlight. Swallowing hard, I type out a message, deleting and retyping it twice before finally hitting send.

Aria: Proof I showed up, but something came up, and I have to leave.

I turn around and focus only on Willow as she leads me down the steps and out of the club.

The cool night air hits my face like a slap, shocking my system. I gulp it down greedily, the crisp scent of approaching rain a stark contrast to the stale, alcohol-laden air of the club. My racing heart gradually slows as the city sounds—distant traffic, rustling leaves, a far-off siren—replace the pounding bass that still echoes in my ears.

"Aria, this isn't just about the crowd, is it?" Willow's voice is gentle but probing as she leads me away from the club, her hand still in mine.

I shake my head, tears stinging my eyes. "No. It's not," I admit, but I don't elaborate because I'm not sure breathing is natural to me anymore.

Willow wraps her arms around me, holding me tightly. "It's okay. You're safe. How about we go back to my place and watch a movie instead? Something fun and distracting."

I nod, grateful for her understanding. "Yeah. That sounds good."

As Willow leads me away from the club, I can still feel the panic coursing through my veins and my heart pounding against my rib cage. The night air helps, but it's not enough to erase the memories that the alpha's leering gaze and rough demeanor brought rushing back.

One of these days, I will escape the stranglehold Noah has on me. Just not today, and that's all right.