4. Aria

4

ARIA

The shrill beep of my alarm cuts through my dreams like a chainsaw through butter. I jolt awake, my heart pounding faster than a caffeinated hummingbird. For a second, I’m lost in the sterile, unfamiliar walls of my new apartment in the Omega Guardians building, then reality crashes into me like a freight train of unwelcome memories.

Great. Another day in paradise.

I’ve faced down alphas and my own biology, so what’s one more battle in this war? Maybe I should start keeping score.

I take a deep breath, willing the panic to take a hike, before I slide out of bed. The cold floor jolts me back to reality as I shuffle to the bathroom. The mirror shows me a horror show—tired eyes, hair that looks like I’ve been electrocuted, and worry lines that could rival the Grand Canyon—but somewhere in that mess, there’s a flicker of determination. I cling to that spark like it’s the last lifeboat on the Titanic.

As I start my morning routine, panic flutters in my chest like a trapped bird. I need a solution, and fast. Preferably before I completely lose my marbles.

I’m just finishing up when there’s a knock at the door. I freeze, instinctively tensing, before I remember where I am. This building is supposed to be safe. I’m supposed to be safe.

Opening the door, I’m greeted by Sarah, my neighbor and fellow omega. Her bright smile is like a ray of sunshine cutting through my storm cloud of dread. Her scent—all sunlight and honey—washes over me. It’s almost sickeningly sweet, but hey, beggars can’t be choosers when it comes to comfort.

“Morning, Aria!” she chirps, her voice light and cheerful. “Just checking if you’re coming to the community breakfast this weekend.”

I force a smile that probably looks more like a grimace. “Thanks for the invite, Sarah. I’ll… I’ll see how work goes this week, but I appreciate it.”

Sarah nods, her smile softening into something more understanding. “No pressure. Just offering you an olive branch.”

As the door clicks shut behind her, guilt settles in my chest like a lead weight. These people are trying to include me, but I can’t shake the feeling that I’m an outsider, and that I’m taking up space I don’t really deserve. Story of my life, right?

The walk to work is a blur of noise and movement, the city pulsing around me in a relentless rhythm. I keep my head down, focusing on each step, and tell myself just to get through the day. That’s all I need to do.

The familiar scents of shampoo and hair dye greet me at the salon, a small comfort amidst the chaos of my life. I throw myself into the routine—cutting, coloring, and making small talk with clients. It’s easier to lose myself in the monotony and pretend, if only for a few hours, that everything is normal. That I’m not one sniff away from having my entire life turned upside down again.

The memory of Pack Clarke’s men linger at the edges of my mind like a persistent itch I can’t scratch—Malachi’s steady authority, Zane’s smoldering intensity, Quinn’s quirky charm, and Dash’s carefree warmth. Together, they create a perfect, maddening harmony that both terrifies and tempts me.

For a moment, I’m back in that room, surrounded by their overwhelming presence and feeling smaller than an ant at a giant’s picnic. The ghost of Zane’s accusing glare, the hurt in Quinn’s eyes, and the disappointment radiating from Malachi all come rushing back, along with the crushing weight of guilt and fear.

“Everything okay, Aria?” Jen, my coworker, peers at me, her brow furrowed in concern.

I plaster on my best everything’s fine smile. “Yeah, just zoned out for a sec. Late night, you know?” The lie slips out easier than it should. I’m getting too good at this.

The rest of the day passes in a blur, each appointment a thin barrier between me and the thoughts I’m trying to keep at bay. By the time my shift ends, I’m exhausted but proud. I made it through without letting fear win. Small victories, right? I’ll take what I can get.

As I gather my things to leave, a sudden, aching loneliness settles in. Work interactions, as familiar as they are, only scratch the surface. I need real company, the kind that doesn’t feel like a chore. I need my friends. I need to feel normal again, even if it’s just for one night.

Me : Meet at the Rusty Anchor at 8? First round’s on me.

Ginger : Count me in! I’ll bring the tequila.

Back at my apartment, I kick off my shoes and rummage through my closet, tossing aside options that feel wrong. Too formal, too casual, too much effort for the night I want. I finally settle on ripped jeans and a loose, off the shoulder sweater that hugs just right. It’s comfortable but cute enough for wherever the evening takes us—not that I’m trying to impress anyone. Nope. Not me.

My phone buzzes with a text from Cayenne.

Cayenne : Yes! I’ll be there early to snag our booth.

A grin tugs at my lips, the first real one in days. It’s been too long since I let myself relax, let myself be more than just the scared omega hiding in the shadows. If anyone can pull me out of this funk, it’s Cayenne and Ginger. They are like human versions of those hang in there cat posters, but with more tequila.

As I make my way to the bar, my phone buzzes again.

Cayenne : Girl, you better hurry. The tea is scalding, and I might spontaneously combust if I have to hold it in much longer.

Me : Can’t wait! I have some tea of my own.

I laugh, imagining Cayenne’s mischievous grin. Tonight, the worries can wait. Tonight, it will be just us three, a little too much alcohol, and maybe a few questionable decisions—but those are tomorrow’s problems. For now, I’m just grateful for friends who show up, who bring the tequila, and who never let me face the darkness alone, even if they do occasionally enable my bad decisions. But hey, that’s what friends are for, right?

The bar hits me like a sensory sledgehammer—a cacophony of scents, sounds, and sights that threatens to knock me off my feet. It’s a heady mix that makes my head spin, but beneath it all, I catch the familiar scents of my friends—Cayenne’s spicy cinnamon and Ginger’s earthy warmth—which anchor me in the chaos like a life preserver in a storm.

As I step inside, my phone buzzes with a new message from Willow, the fourth piece of our chaotic puzzle. She’s always juggling her own whirlwind, but she never forgets to check in.

Willow : Missing you guys! Have an extra drink for me!

Me : We miss you too! Let’s plan something soon, all four of us.

Ginger : We’ll try, but no guarantees.

Willow : Have a blast for me! And if you see any cute guys, don’t forget to send one my way. Beta boys only.

I chuckle, imagining Willow’s playful wink. Her energy is contagious, even through a screen. Even when she’s not here, she’s still woven into every laugh and moment. We’ll make sure she’s part of the night, even if it’s just through updates and inside jokes.

“Well, look who finally decided to grace us with her presence!” Cayenne teases as I slide in next to her. “I was about to send out a search party… or start drinking your share. Whichever came first.”

Ginger leans in, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she pushes the pitcher toward me. “You’re lucky, or I would have had this whole thing to myself.”

I roll my eyes but can’t hide my grin. “Yeah, yeah. So what’s this scalding tea you’re about to spill? I’m dying to know what’s got you ready to spontaneously combust.”

Cayenne and I exchange eager glances as Ginger leans back, milking the suspense for all it’s worth. “Alright, you know that new alpha who just joined the fire department? The one everyone’s been whispering about?”

We nod, leaning in closer. Ginger has our full attention, and she knows it.

“Turns out,” Ginger continues, lowering her voice conspiratorially, “that he isn’t just any alpha. My cousin, who works dispatch, says he’s from one of the old packs up north, and apparently, he left after some huge scandal.”

“Oh, juicy,” Cayenne coos, her eyes wide. “What kind of scandal are we talking about? Secret baby? Forbidden love? Tragic curse?”

Ginger shrugs, taking a slow sip of her drink, clearly enjoying the drama. “That’s the thing—no one knows for sure. Some say he challenged the pack alpha and lost. Others think he was caught with the alpha’s mate. But the wildest rumor? That he’s actually the rightful heir to the pack and was cast out by his own family for some big secret.”

“Damn,” I murmur, momentarily forgetting my own troubles. “Have you seen him? Is he as hot as the rumors say?”

Ginger shakes her head. “Not up close, but from what I’ve heard, he’s tall, dark, and brooding—total mystery man. And his scent? Apparently, it’s to die for, like smoke and cedar with a hint of danger.”

Cayenne fans herself dramatically. “Be still my heart. When do we get to meet this mysterious stranger? I volunteer as tribute to investigate further.”

I laugh, grateful for the distraction. “Down, girl. Remember what happened last time you volunteered to investigate a hot alpha?”

Cayenne groans, burying her face in her hands. “Don’t remind me. That was a train wreck I’d rather forget.”

“Alright, alright,” Ginger cuts in, refilling our glasses. “Enough about mysterious alphas. Aria, you said you had some tea of your own?”

I hesitate, the weight of the Scent Synergy letter creeping back in. For a second, I consider brushing it off and pretending everything’s fine, but the tequila has loosened my tongue, and the trust in my friends’ eyes gives me the courage I need.

“I… I got a letter from Scent Synergy,” I blurt out, the words tumbling over each other. “They matched me with Pack Clarke.”

The booth goes silent, the noise of the bar fading into the background as my friends process what I just said. Cayenne’s hand finds mine under the table, squeezing it in solidarity.

“Holy shit,” Ginger whispers. “Are you okay?”

I manage a shaky laugh, but it sounds thin, even to me. “Define okay. I’m not losing my mind anymore, so I guess that’s something.”

“What are you going to do?” Cayenne asks, her voice low and intense. “You aren’t thinking of… you know, going to them, are you?”

“That’s the million-dollar question,” I say, frustration bleeding into my voice. “I’ve been racking my brain, trying to figure it out, but it’s like hitting a brick wall. I’m right back where I started.”

Ginger leans closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Have you told Omega Guardians? They are pretty tight on security. They could probably help track down how this happened.”

I shake my head. “I haven’t told anyone but you two. I… I don’t want to cause any trouble. They’ve already done so much for me.”

Cayenne squeezes my hand again, her voice soft but firm. “We get it, but you can’t carry this by yourself, Aria. It isn’t safe.” She pauses, a determined glint in her eye. “Alright, here’s what we’re going to do. I have contacts in the underground omega network. We’ll start there and dig up some dirt on Scent Synergy. If they want to play dirty, then we can play dirtier.”

We spend the rest of the evening laughing, sharing stories, and losing ourselves in the comfort of familiar faces and strong margaritas. The chatter of the bar hums in the background, but for once, I’m not overwhelmed by the noise or the presence of alphas who might notice me. Tonight, I’m just another girl out with her friends, enjoying a night that doesn’t have to be anything more than what it is.

As we stumble out of the bar, arm in arm and slightly unsteady, the reality of my situation creeps back in. The cool night air clears some of the alcohol-induced haze, and I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being watched.

“You good to get home?” Cayenne asks, her words only slightly slurred.

I nod, but Ginger’s already shaking her head. “Nuh-uh. We’re walking you back. No arguments.”

Ginger falls into step on my other side, completing our little trio. “Yeah, no solo adventures for you tonight, missy.”

As we walk, I can’t help but think about Pack Clarke. Are they looking for me? Do they even care? Part of me—a traitorous, omega part—hopes they do. The memory of their scents, their presence, sends a shiver down my spine. It’s a cocktail of fear and longing that I’m not ready to untangle.

“Aria?” Cayenne’s voice cuts through my panic. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I mumble, forcing a smile. “Just thought I saw… Never mind.”

They escort me all the way to my door, only leaving after a thorough check of my apartment and extracting a promise to text them when I wake up. As I close the door behind them, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being watched and that somewhere out there, Pack Clarke is waiting, planning their next move.

While I get ready for bed, my phone buzzes one last time. It’s a group message from Cayenne.

Cayenne : Operation Protect Aria is a go. I’ll start digging tomorrow.

Ginger : On it. Those corporate alphas won’t know what hit them.

Willow : Count me in too! I’ll see what I can find out through Omega Guardians. No one messes with our Aria and gets away with it.

A lump forms in my throat as I read their messages.

How did I get so lucky to have friends like these?