47. Aria

47

ARIA

I step out of the salon two hours early, the sharp scent of hair products clinging to my clothes like a second skin. The cool evening air hits my face, a welcome relief after a long day of work.

Logically, I know I should call one of the guys and let them know I’m done early, but a part of me wants to just enjoy a moment of independence.

Neon signs flicker to life around me, painting the street in a kaleidoscope of colors. I pause, letting the city’s rhythm wash over me—the steady hum of traffic, snippets of conversation, and the distant wail of a siren. For a moment, I’m just another person heading home after work, not an omega in hiding.

It’s a dangerous thought, and I quickly shake it off.

I inhale deeply, letting the fresh breeze clear my head. That’s when I sense a shift in the air, a sudden absence of the usual city smells. My heart kicks into overdrive, adrenaline flooding my system.

Before I can react, strong arms grab me from behind. I open my mouth to scream, but a cloth is pressed against my face. The sickly sweet odor invades my nostrils, and the world spins, my vision blurring as I struggle against the encroaching darkness.

As the cloth presses harder, panic surges through me like wildfire. Memories of past captivity flash before my eyes, threatening to paralyze me. I see Noah’s sneering face, feel chains on my wrists, and remember the suffocating darkness of isolation, but beneath the fear, a new feeling rises—determination. I’m not the same helpless omega I once was.

Not even close.

I fight with every ounce of strength I have. I claw at my attacker’s arms, feeling skin tear beneath my fingertips. My feet kick wildly, connecting with something solid. I hear a grunt of pain—a small victory, but it’s not enough. The drug is too strong, and I feel myself slipping away.

Fight, Aria, Fight. I swear I hear Aunt Sara in my head.

But it’s fruitless.

As consciousness fades, I focus all my energy on one final act. I rip the charm from my bracelet—a gift from Quinn—and let it fall to the ground. The small metal heart feels cold against my palm before it slips away. It’s not much, but it’s something. A clue. Hope.

Quinn’s face flashes in my mind—his warm smile and the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he laughs. “You’re stronger than you know, Aria,” he told me once. I cling to those words as darkness claims me.

I wake to the rumble of an engine and the sensation of movement. My head pounds, and my mouth is dry, tasting of chemicals. Slowly, carefully, I open my eyes. I’m in the back of a van, the metal floor cold and unyielding beneath me. My hands and feet are bound, the coarse rope chafing against my skin.

Fear threatens to overwhelm me, but I force it down, swallowing the acidic taste of panic. I’m not the same omega I was before. The old Aria would have crumbled by now and given in to despair, but my pack has shown me my own strength.

I close my eyes, picturing each of them. I remember the way Malachi placed his hand on my shoulder after a particularly grueling training session, his touch grounding me.

“You’re part of this pack, Aria,” he said. “And we protect our own.”

Zane’s intensity comes to mind next, as does the fire in his eyes when he vowed to protect me. I can almost feel the heat of his body as he showed me how to break a chokehold, his voice low and fierce in my ear.

“You’re not prey anymore, Aria. You’re a predator. Remember that.”

Dash’s infectious laughter echoes in my memory. I think of the night he coaxed me out of a panic attack, distracting me with terrible jokes until I laughed through my tears.

“That’s it, sparkles,” he said, grinning. “Can’t let the bastards see you sweat, right?”

They have all become part of me, their strength flowing through our pack bond. Noah has no idea what he’s up against.

I strain my ears, trying to catch any useful information from my captors’ conversation over the hum of the engine and the crunch of gravel under tires.

“…boss wants her unharmed,” one of them says, his voice gruff and low. “Says she’s too valuable to damage.”

“Shame,” the other replies, his voice sending chills down my spine. “She smells delicious.”

I suppress a shudder, focusing instead on memorizing their voices. The driver has a scar running down his neck, visible in the rearview mirror. The other man’s hands are calloused, his knuckles scarred. Fighters, both of them. Every piece of information could be crucial.

The van eventually comes to a stop, and I’m roughly pulled out, the sudden brightness making me squint. We’re at some kind of warehouse, a hulking structure of corrugated metal and concrete. Broken windows gape like missing teeth, and the air is heavy with the scent of rust and stagnant water.

As they drag me inside, my shoes scraping against the rough concrete, I deliberately scuff them on the ground, leaving faint marks—another clue, another breadcrumb for my pack to follow. I make note of every turn and every door we pass through. Left, right, down a flight of stairs. The air grows cooler and damper.

I’m thrown into a small, windowless room, the impact jarring my bones. The door slams shut with a metallic clang, leaving me alone in the darkness, but not for long.

“Aria, my dear…” Noah’s smooth voice cuts through the darkness. “It’s been far too long. I hope you’ll forgive the… abrupt reunion.”

Noah steps into view, his face illuminated by the harsh glow of a single bulb swinging overhead. His scent—pine and smoke with an undercurrent of something rotten—fills the room, bringing back a flood of painful memories.

As Noah circles me, I force myself to stand tall, steadily meeting his gaze. I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me cower. His eyes narrow slightly, a flicker of surprise quickly masked by his usual smug expression.

“You’re looking well,” he continues, circling me like a predator. The soft tap of his expensive shoes on the concrete floor echoes in the small space. “Your new pack has been taking good care of you, I see. How… touching.”

I remain silent, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. This seems to anger him, his scent sharpening with rage.

“Nothing to say, Aria? And here I thought you’d be happy to see me.” His tone is light, conversational, but I hear the underlying menace.

I can’t help but scoff. “Happy? To see the man who treated me like property? Who hurt me, isolated me, and made me feel worthless? Try again, Noah.”

His eyes flash dangerously. “I gave you everything, and how do you repay me? By running off with a pack of second-rate alphas?”

“They are ten times the alphas you could ever hope to be,” I spit back.

Noah’s hand shoots out, gripping my chin painfully. “Do you have any idea what you cost me?” he snarls, his facade of calm cracking. Spittle flies from his mouth, landing on my cheek.

“You killed Sara!” I scream at him, pushing all of my rage and pain into my words. Spittle flies right back at him.

He grips my arms and shakes me like a rag doll. “You disrupted my plans.”

He leans in close, his breath hot on my face, reeking of mint and something darker. “But that’s all about to change. You’re going to help me rebuild everything, Aria. You’ll be the crown jewel of my operation—the perfect omega, trained and obedient, setting an example for all the others.”

I meet his gaze, summoning every ounce of defiance I possess. “Never,” I say, my voice low but fierce. “I’ve faced your worst before, Noah, and I’m stronger now. I’ll die before I let you use me to hurt another omega.”

Noah’s eyes narrow dangerously, the blue turning to ice. “We’ll see about that. You always were stubborn, but I have ways of breaking that spirit of yours.”

He turns to leave, pausing at the door. “Get comfortable, Aria. You’re going to be here for a long, long time.”

As the door slams shut behind him, the sound reverberating in my bones, I let out a shaky breath. The fear is still there, clawing at the edges of my mind, but something else burns brighter.

Determination. Rage. Hope.

I close my eyes, focusing on the bond I share with my pack. I can’t feel them, not really—the scent blockers in this place are too strong, leaving only the musty odor of damp concrete—but I know they are out there, searching for me.

I begin to explore my prison, my fingers tracing the rough walls, searching for any weakness or opportunity. I test the door handle, knowing it’s futile but needing to try anyway. It doesn’t budge. I run my hands along the floor, feeling for any loose tiles or hidden openings. Nothing.

As I search, I whisper a silent promise to myself and my pack, my voice barely audible even to my own ears. “I will survive this, I will escape, and when I do, Noah, you’ll regret the day you ever laid eyes on me.”

I settle back against the wall, my mind racing. Noah thinks he’s won, but he’s wrong. I’m not the scared little omega he once knew. I’m a force of nature now, tempered by the love and strength of my pack.

A memory surfaces, unbidden. It’s from just a few weeks ago, during a rare moment of peace. We were all piled together on the couch, watching some cheesy action movie. I remember the warmth of Zane’s arm around my shoulders, the sound of Dash’s laughter, and the scent of the popcorn Quinn made. Malachi looked at us with a soft smile on his face, and said, “This is what pack means. This is what family means.”

As the reality of my situation sinks in, though, a chill runs down my spine. I’m alone, with no idea of when or if help will come. The walls seem to close in, the darkness pressing against my eyes. For a moment, panic threatens to overwhelm me.

Then I hear a sound so faint I almost miss it. Footsteps approach my door. Is Noah coming back to start his training ?

Or something worse?

My heart pounds in my chest as I press myself against the wall, every muscle tense. I take a deep breath, centering myself the way Zane taught me. I flex my fingers, remembering the self-defense moves Malachi drilled into me, and think of Quinn’s clever strategies and Dash’s unwavering optimism.

Let them come. I’ve faced my demons before, and this time, I have fangs of my own.

The lock clicks, and the door begins to open…

Noah thought he caged a docile pet, but he’s about to face a wolf.

The door swings open, flooding the room with harsh light. I squint, my eyes struggling to adjust. In that moment, I know one thing with absolute certainty. The game has changed, and Noah doesn’t even know he’s playing by my rules now.

Every cell in my body hums with defiance.

Noah has no idea what he’s awakened.