29. Aria

29

ARIA

Ammonia cuts through the air, sharp and clinical, mixing with the sweeter notes of shampoo and hair dye. I breathe it in, letting the familiar scents ground me as I weave between styling chairs. My fingers trail along cool metal backs, a small comfort as I approach my next client.

“How are those highlights treating you, Mrs. Johnson?” I ask, leaning in to examine my handiwork. Fine strands of silver blonde shimmer under the harsh salon lighting.

The elderly woman beams at me in the mirror, wrinkles crinkling around her eyes. “Oh, Aria, they are divine! I feel twenty years younger.”

I wink at her reflection, a genuine smile tugging at my lips. “That’s what I’m here for. Now, let’s get you under the dryer and set that color, shall we?”

As I guide Mrs. Johnson to the drying station, I catch a glimpse of myself in one of the mirrors. My smile looks real, even to me. It’s a far cry from the terrified omega I was when I first rolled into this city. I’ve built something here—a life, a career, a family. The thought sends a warm flutter through my chest, followed quickly by a pang of anxiety. When did I start feeling so… settled?

The bell above the door chimes, jolting me from my reverie. I look up, a welcoming smile already forming. It freezes when I see who just walked in.

Noah .

His scent slams into me before I can fully process what I’m seeing—pine, smoke, and something darker underneath. It’s a physical blow, dragging me back to a time and place I’ve tried so hard to forget.

Suddenly, I’m back in that dark apartment, cowering in the corner as Noah towers over me, his eyes blazing with fury. “You stupid bitch,” he snarled, his hand raised. “You think you can leave me? You’re nothing without me!”

I blink hard, forcing the memory away. The gentle buzz of the salon fades, replaced by a high-pitched ringing in my ears.

Breathe, Aria. Just breathe.

I force air into my lungs, willing my racing heart to slow.

You’re not that omega anymore. You’re stronger now.

Noah’s eyes, as sharp and cold as ever, lock onto mine. “Aria,” he says, his voice as smooth as honey but with an edge that sets my nerves on fire. “It’s been too long.”

I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry. “Noah,” I reply, fighting to keep my voice steady. “What are you doing here?”

He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He reminds me of a predator baring its teeth. “Can’t an old friend stop by to catch up?”

Friend . The word tastes bitter in my mouth, like bile rising in my throat. He was never a friend. I open my mouth to respond when my phone buzzes against my hip. Grateful for the distraction, I glance down. It’s a text from Willow.

Willow : Noah’s been asking questions about you. Be careful.

My heart rate spikes, but I force myself to stay outwardly calm as years of practice hiding my true nature kicks in. “I’m working, Noah, or should I call you Logan?” I ask, a hint of defiance creeping into my voice. “This isn’t really the best time.”

He takes a step closer, and I fight the urge to back away. The reception desk feels less like a barrier and more like a trap. “Oh, I think you can spare a few minutes for me, Aria. After all, we have so much to catch up on.”

There’s an edge to his voice now, a hint of the man I remember all too well. I glance around the salon, suddenly aware of how alone I am. Mrs. Johnson is dozing under the dryer, and my coworker is in the back room, probably oblivious to what’s happening.

“Like what?” I ask, buying time as I try to think of a way out of this situation. My mind races through possible escape routes, but they all feel flimsy against the wall of Noah’s presence.

Noah’s smile turns predatory, sending a chill down my spine. “Like how you’ve been hiding from me. Like how you’ve been playing house with that pack of yours.”

Ice floods my veins, turning my blood to slush. How does he know about the pack?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, but my voice trembles, betraying me. Damn it, Aria. Pull it together. You’re stronger than this.

Noah laughs, a harsh sound that makes me flinch. It’s so at odds with the cheery salon atmosphere that it feels almost surreal. “Oh, Aria. You never were a good liar. Did you really think you could hide from me forever? That I wouldn’t find you?”

He takes another step closer, and this time, I do back up, my back hitting the wall behind me. The framed certifications rattle with the impact. Noah’s eyes flash with triumph, and I realize I just gave away my fear.

“You belong to me, Aria,” he growls, all pretense of friendliness gone, “and it’s time for you to come home.”

In this moment, I see him clearly for what he is—a predator, and I’m his prey—but I’m not the same omega I was when I left him. I’ve grown, I’ve changed. I have people who care about me now. The pack’s faces flash through my mind—Malachi’s steady gaze, Quinn’s crooked smile, Zane’s intense eyes, and Dash’s carefree grin. Their imagined presence gives me strength.

With shaking hands, I reach for my phone in my pocket. Noah’s eyes narrow, suspicion creeping into his voice. “What are you doing?”

I lift my chin, meeting his gaze defiantly. A small part of me marvels at my own bravery. “Texting my pack.”

Noah’s face contorts with rage, his carefully constructed mask slipping. He lunges forward, grabbing my wrist. His grip is painfully tight, and I feel the delicate bones grinding together. “You little?—”

It’s too late. I already hit send on the prearranged distress signal to the pack group chat—a simple red heart emoji. It seems innocent to anyone else, but it’s a call to arms for my alphas.

Noah’s grip tightens further on my wrist, and I bite back a whimper. “You think they can protect you?” he snarls, his breath hot against my face. “You think they can keep you from me?”

I don’t answer. Instead, I focus on keeping my breathing steady and not letting him see how terrified I am, but every second feels like an eternity as he looms over me, his body caging me against the wall.

“You don’t know what I’m capable of, Aria,” Noah continues, his voice low and menacing. “I built an empire while you’ve been playing salon. Did you know there’s a whole network of alphas out there who’d pay a fortune for an omega like you?”

My blood runs cold at his words, turning it to ice in my veins. A trafficking ring. That’s what this is about. The pieces start to fall into place—the whispers I heard and the warnings from Omega Guardians. It was all connected.

“Is that why you’re here?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. “To sell me?”

Noah’s smile is all teeth, sharp and dangerous. “Oh no, sweetheart. You’re far too valuable to me for that. You’re going to be the crown jewel of my operation.”

I feel sick to my stomach, and bile rises in my throat, but I force myself to keep talking. I need to buy time. “How did you find me?”

“You think you’re the only one with connections?” Noah scoffs, his free hand coming up to trace my jawline. I flinch away from his touch. “I have eyes everywhere, Aria. I’ve been watching you for months, waiting for the right moment.”

Each word is like a knife to my gut. All this time, I thought I was safe, I thought I was free, but I’ve been living on borrowed time.

“They’ll find me,” I say, clinging to hope like a lifeline. “My pack will come for me.”

Noah’s laugh is cruel, echoing off the salon’s tiled floors. “Let them try. By the time they figure out where you went, we’ll be long gone.”

As if on cue, the sound of screeching tires fills the air. Noah’s head whips around, his eyes widening in surprise. My heart soars, hope blooming in my chest like a flower breaking through concrete.

They are here.

Noah turns back to me, his eyes blazing with fury. “What did you do?” he growls, his hand tightening around my wrist. I’ll have bruises tomorrow.

I meet his gaze, feeling a surge of defiance. “I told you. I texted my pack.”

The salon door bursts open with a crash, the bell jingling wildly. I’ve never been so relieved to see anyone in my life. Malachi stands in the doorway, his eyes burning with rage as he takes in the scene before him. Behind him, I see Zane, Quinn, and Dash, all looking equally furious.

“Let. Her. Go.” Malachi’s voice is low and dangerous, filled with alpha authority. I feel it resonate in my bones, and even Noah seems affected.

Noah’s grip loosens on my wrist, but he doesn’t let go completely. “Well, well,” he says, his voice dripping with false amusement. “The cavalry’s arrived.”

I can feel the tension in the air, thick enough to cut with a knife.

My pack versus my past.

As I stand here, caught between Noah’s grip and my pack’s protective presence, I realize that this is it—this is the moment where everything will change. I can feel it in my bones.

Malachi’s eyes scan the room, assessing the situation with calm precision. “Noah,” he says, his voice level but laced with authority, “you’re outnumbered and outmatched. This doesn’t have to end badly for you.”

Quinn steps forward, his usually playful demeanor replaced by cold determination. His fingers fly over his phone screen as he speaks. “I’ve already alerted the authorities,” he says, a hint of his typical quirkiness bleeding through. “They’ll be here in approximately three minutes—give or take a few seconds for traffic variables, of course. I suggest you reconsider your position before you end up as another statistic in my database of apprehended criminals.”

Zane moves to flank Malachi, his intense gaze never leaving Noah. The air crackles with the tension between them, two alphas locked in a silent battle of wills. I can almost taste the pheromones in the air, sharp and aggressive.

Dash, surprisingly, is the one to break the standoff. He saunters forward, a lazy grin on his face that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Come on, man,” he says to Noah, his tone deceptively light. “Is this really how you want this to go down? In a salon, of all places? Think of the hair spray fumes. I mean, have you smelled that stuff? It’s practically a chemical weapon. You’ll be doing us all a favor if you just walk away now.”

Despite everything, I almost laugh. Leave it to Dash to find humor in this situation.

Noah’s eyes dart between them calculatingly. For a moment, I think he might try to fight, but then his shoulders slump slightly. “This isn’t over, Aria,” he says, his voice cold. “You can’t hide behind them forever.”

“Try to stop us,” Zane growls, his eyes flashing with protective intensity.

Noah’s lips curl into a sneer, but he backs toward the door. “I’ll be seeing you,” he says, and then he’s gone, the cheerful bell echoing in his wake.

For a moment, we all stand frozen, then my adrenaline crashes, and my knees buckle. Strong arms catch me before I hit the ground—Zane’s.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his arms tightening around me like a fortress. “He won’t touch you again.”

Quinn is at my side in an instant, his clever hands gently examining my bruised wrist. “We should get some ice on this,” he says, his voice soft with concern. “I have a first aid kit in the car with some analgesic cream that should help with the swelling. It’s a proprietary blend I’ve been working on—don’t tell the FDA,” he says with a wink, trying to lighten the mood.

Malachi approaches, his presence calming the chaotic energy in the room. “Status report, Aria,” Malachi says, his voice gentle but commanding.

I nod, not quite trusting my voice. Dash appears on my other side, draping his arm around my shoulders. “Damn, Aria, that text was faster than my best guitar riff.” Dash grins, bumping my shoulder. “You’re officially our pack’s secret weapon.”

As the pack surrounds me, their scents mingling in a protective cocoon, I let out a shaky breath. Noah was right about one thing—this isn’t over. For now, though, I’m safe, I’m home, and that’s enough.

“Thank you,” I whisper, looking at each of them in turn. “For coming. For… everything.”

Zane’s arms tighten around me. “Try to stop us,” he growls, his eyes flashing with protectiveness.

As the adrenaline fades, the reality of what just happened starts to sink in. My legs feel wobbly, and I’m grateful for Zane’s steady support. The familiar scents and sounds of the salon seem surreal now, like I stepped into an alternate universe where everything looks the same but feels completely different.

“We should get you out of here,” Malachi says, his voice gentle but firm. “It isn’t safe to stay.”

I nod, still feeling slightly dazed. “I… I need to tell my boss and Mrs. Johnson—she’s still under the dryer.”

Quinn steps forward, his expression softening. “I’ll take care of it, Aria. You just focus on yourself right now.”

As Quinn moves to handle the salon situation, Dash appears at my side with my purse and jacket. “Your chariot awaits, milady,” he says with an exaggerated bow, trying to coax a smile out of me.

It works, sort of. The corners of my mouth twitch upward, even as tears threaten to spill over. “Thanks, Dash,” I whisper.

Zane keeps a protective arm around me as we make our way out of the salon. The familiar bell chimes as we exit, the sound jarring after everything that happened. Outside, the late afternoon sun feels too bright, too normal.

Malachi’s sleek black SUV is parked haphazardly at the curb, evidence of their rushed arrival. As we approach the vehicle, I hear the wail of police sirens growing closer.

“We need to move,” Malachi says, his voice low and urgent. “Zane, get Aria in the car. Dash, you’re on lookout.”

“Location?” Zane questions.

Malachi gives him a look, and through the bond with Zane, I feel gentle reassurance.

The pack moves with practiced efficiency, falling into their roles without hesitation. Zane helps me into the back seat, sliding in beside me. His solid presence is comforting, grounding me as the world seems to spin around me.

Dash hops into the passenger seat, his usual carefree demeanor replaced by intense focus as he scans the street. “All clear,” he reports, “but those sirens are getting close.”

Malachi nods, starting the engine. “Quinn?” he calls.

“On my way,” Quinn replies through the open car door. Moments later, he slides into the seat on my other side, sandwiching me between him and Zane. “Mrs. Johnson is awake and unharmed. I explained there was a situation and that you had to leave. Your boss understands and says to take as much time as you need.”

Relief washes over me at his words. It’s a small thing, but knowing that my job is secure helps calm some of the chaos in my mind.

As Malachi pulls away from the curb, I catch a glimpse of police cars turning onto the street behind us. My heart races with a mixture of relief and lingering fear. I lean into Zane’s side, drawing comfort from his steady presence.

“You’re off Noah’s grid now,” Quinn murmurs, interlacing his fingers with mine, “and on ours—permanently.”

I nod, unable to form words past the lump in my throat. The adrenaline is fading, leaving me feeling drained and shaky. As we drive through the city streets, my mind keeps replaying Noah’s words, his threats echoing in my head.

When will Noah stop?

The question hangs in the air, unspoken but heavy with implications. As we drive away from the salon, away from Noah, I can’t shake the feeling that this is just the beginning of something much bigger and more dangerous than I ever imagined.

The city blurs past the window, a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes that don’t quite register. I’m vaguely aware of the pack’s voices around me, their tones low and urgent as they discuss what just happened, but it all feels distant, like I’m underwater and they are speaking from the surface.

“Aria?” Quinn’s voice breaks through the fog, and his hand squeezes mine gently. “Are you with us?”

I blink, forcing myself to focus on his concerned face. “Yeah,” I rasp, my voice sounding hoarse even to my own ears. “I’m here.”

Zane’s arm tightens around me, his scent—leather and sandalwood—wrapping around me like a protective blanket. “We’ve got you,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear. “You’re safe now.”

But am I? Noah’s words echo in my mind. “I have eyes everywhere, Aria.” How long has he been watching me? How much does he know?

“He knew about the pack,” I say suddenly, the realization hitting me like a punch to the gut. “How did he know about you guys?”

The tension in the car ratchets up a notch, and the alphas exchange glances over my head.

Malachi’s eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror, his gaze steady and reassuring. “We’ll figure it out, Aria. For now, let’s focus on getting you somewhere safe.”

“Where are we going?” I ask, suddenly realizing I have no idea where Malachi’s driving us.

“The pack cabin,” Dash replies from the front seat. He turns to give me a wink. “Full lockdown mode. It’ll be like a slumber party, but with more security systems and less pillow fights—unless you’re into that sort of thing, of course.”

I manage a weak smile at his attempt to lighten the mood, but the idea of being locked away, even for my own protection, makes my skin crawl. It’s too close to what Noah wants—to cage me and control me.

“I can’t just hide away,” I say, my voice stronger now. “I have a life here, a job. I can’t let him take that away from me.”

Quinn nods, his expression thoughtful. “You’re right, and we won’t let that happen, but we need to be smart about this, Aria. Noah’s dangerous, and he isn’t working alone.”

“The trafficking ring,” I whisper, the words tasting foul in my mouth.

Zane growls low in his throat, the sound vibrating through his chest where I’m pressed against him. “We’ll shut it down,” he states, his voice hard with determination. “All of it.”

I look around at each of them, and for the first time since Noah walked into the salon, I feel a flicker of real hope.

“Okay,” I say, taking a deep breath. “So what’s the plan?”

Malachi’s lips quirk up in a small smile. “First, we make sure you’re safe. Then, we go on the offensive. Noah thinks he has the upper hand, but he’s never faced a pack like ours before.”

As we pull up to the pack house, I steel myself for whatever comes next. Noah may have found me, but he doesn’t know who he’s really dealing with. I’m not the same omega he knew. I’m stronger now, braver, and I have a pack that would move heaven and earth to keep me safe.

The game has changed, and this time, I’m not running away. This time, we’re fighting back.