Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18

ADIRA

G azing at my coffee, I take a small sip. It’s doctored with sugar and cream, but my stomach cramps painfully at the taste. Making a face, I sigh.

“What’s wrong with your coffee?” Wren asks.

“Nothing, it’s delicious, my stomach isn’t having it though,” I say, putting it back on the coffee table. My muffin is sitting on a plate next to it, and I decide to pull off a small piece, so there’s something in my stomach instead of acid.

“I… haven’t had a lot to eat recently, so I’m trying to figure out what doesn’t upset it.”

“That makes perfect sense,” Wren says without judgment. “You’ll need to reintroduce food slowly. Want to tell us why?”

“It’s a long story,” I mutter. “I’ve been sedated for the last three weeks to make me easier to deal with.”

“Easier for who?” Aisling asks.

“The pack before they sold me,” I whisper.

“Can you start from the beginning?” Wren asks. “I’m considering all the ways I can ask my pack to kill them right now and I need all of the information first.”

“Yeah,” I agree, wondering if she’s serious.

The entire story comes pouring out over the next hour, and Wren and Aisling tug me over to sit between them on the couch. I can barely breathe by the end, tears streaming down my face, as I gasp out how I ended up at Omega’s Haven’ s door.

“We’re going to pause and let you catch your breath,” Aisling says slowly, both her and Wren’s cheeks wet with tears. “God, I can’t even imagine how awful all of this was.”

Wren makes a face as she grabs a tissue box and passes it around. “Can we throw the entire pack away?” she complains. “That’s not fair. Men do stupid shit all of the time when they ignore their instincts, and this isn’t any different.”

Aisling gets up and pulls water bottles out of the mini fridge set up and hands me one.

“You need to replace the fluid you just leaked out,” she says with a small smile. “We don’t know their side of things, but I still can’t imagine how they honestly thought this was a better option, than literally anything else.”

Opening the bottle, I take small sips to ensure my body doesn’t cramp from how cold it is. Nothing seems to be making it happy lately, and the last thing I want is to end up on another IV drip.

I think I have traumatic feelings around it due to my experience with them.

Dashing away the tears with a tissue I pull from the box, I sigh, shuddering.

“Now, they’re proposing that I stay with them while they kill their father, but it feels like too little too late,” I grunt. The words are honest and torn from my lips. “I’m ruined, jumping at shadows, and the fucking bathroom threw me into a panic attack this morning.”

“You didn’t tell us about that,” Wren says. “What happened there?”

“The bathroom that Ophelia has for prep is a large stall with concrete floors. I don’t know why I didn’t think about the bathroom here being communal, it makes sense,” I explain.

I don’t want to seem ungrateful, it’s just my experience that triggered the reaction. “When I walked in, all I could see was the bathroom from the auctions and it threw me into a spiral. I managed to get it together and figure it out.”

“Ugh,” Aisling sighs. “Usually we explain all of that in our tour, but it was late and Aurelia probably didn’t even think of it.”

“Very few people would ever have the reaction I did,” I remind her. “I’m okay, and I doubt it’ll trigger anything again.”

“We have one single bathroom on the other side of the shelter if you decide you’d be more comfortable using that,” she says. “It’s rarely used for some reason.”

“I think everyone may forget it exists,” Wren says with a smirk. “Just as well in this case. Are you finding that anything else is triggering a reaction?”

“Not yet,” I say. “I haven’t had enough time for my brain to start fucking me over, I think.”

“I get that,” she says with a nod. “The auctions are barbaric, and Ophelia is an asshole. Her benefactor keeps her in omegas and money.”

“Rock,” I mutter. “His eyes are soulless, and he has this sick need to make me pay for something I had nothing to do with. I’ll never be safe from him.”

“Unless he’s dead,” Aisling counters. “Right now he thinks you’re with that other pack. I’ve met the Kelly brothers briefly.”

“It’s a nice house, even if I did get kidnapped there,” Wren grumbled.

At my wide eyes, she shrugs. “Life isn’t safe. It never will be for us. Everyone handles that differently,” Wren says. “I don’t leave the house very often, and Flynn is very selective about when he leaves. His anxiety can be really awful, though he’s working on it. Aisling on the other hand?—”

“I always carry a knife,” Aisling explains. “I learned self defense to help me feel more in control. My pack worries about me, but I can’t stop living my life. This place needs me, we’re expanding to help more people. Wren does a lot of the communication and computer work so I don’t have to.”

“Emails and accounting aren’t things she enjoys,” Wren says with a huff of amusement. “Sometimes I feel badly that she handles so much of the front-facing stuff, but we have Aurelia now. She helps take care of things Aisling isn’t needed for. It was overwhelming for a while though.”

“Anything worth doing typically is,” Aisling says. “Which is the point. Rebuilding a life is difficult, finding what you need to fight through is even worse. It’s okay to struggle. Do you think extra support may help?”

“Like what?” I ask, confused by what that would look like.

“We have a therapist who works with anyone here who wants the help,” she explains. “It’s confidential, no one will ever know what you talk about, and it’s helpful if you’re ready for it.”

“The right therapist is something that people don’t understand is a key issue,” Wren explains. “So many victim-blame, when we had nothing to do with what happened to us.”

“That sounds awful,” I mutter. “It’s nice to know that it’s available, but I can’t imagine cutting myself open regularly to examine things. This was hard enough.”

“That’s okay,” Aisling says with a nod. “How can we help you move forward? Pack Dresmond can’t get in here. If they do any real research, they’ll find out quickly who my and Wren’s packs are. The name Rock Dresmond and his sons aren’t very well received in Minneapolis, because of all the issues Rock creates.”

“I don’t know what Jed and his brothers do for their father outside of torture and kill people who piss him off,” I explain. “Outside of that, I’m in the dark.”

“We aren’t asking,” she reassures me. “There are guards here, and you’re safe. Focus on you.”

A pain pulses in my side, and I grunt, rubbing it. “Have you ever heard of a bond going wrong or being stronger than it should?” I ask. “I can feel Damon, hear his thoughts, make him do things when I’m really mad. Is that normal?”

“Olivia,” Wren murmurs, making me confused. “I’ve heard of bonds that are forced behaving like this, but she didn’t choose her bond. You and Damon both bit each other to solidify the bond.”

“I can look into it,” Aisling says. “I’ve never heard of a bond acting like that. So he’s a persistent pain in the ass even though you’re not together?”

My lips twitch in a slight amusement. I wish I could feel more than pain and sadness.

“Basically,” I say. “The bond ties us together forever. I’m going to have to deal with it at some point, and I know he didn’t know his brother’s plan to plant a buyer. Jed was worried that Damon would somehow warn me with an errant thought.”

“Sometimes I wish biology wasn’t such a bitch,” Aisling says. “Wren and I both had rocky beginnings with our packs. I didn’t think that I would be able to move past things, but I was wrong. Everyone has a different path, though.”

“Just because you’re bound together doesn’t mean you can’t make them work for it,” Wren says. “Even if it takes years, they need to show you that they’re different. Ultimately, it’s your decision.”

Nodding, I think about that. Could I just cut them off? A pissed off pulse makes me growl under my breath. Dammit. There’s something to be said about being alone in your thoughts, and I no longer am.

“Everyone deals with things differently,” Aisling says. “They’re not all the best coping mechanisms, but I think short term, they help to get you through things. I stay busy, help people.”

“I throw myself into projects around the house,” Wren says. “I remake my nest, make the guys help me decorate, while Flynn will stress bake. My pack has two omegas.”

“I’ve never heard of a pack with two omegas before,” I tell her. “Is that difficult, sharing space?”

“He’s one of my best friends,” she says. “We had an instant connection. He was at an auction I was being sold at and bought me. I can’t imagine what would have happened if he didn’t. They were there for other reasons.”

“It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows after that,” Aisling grumbles. “The auctions are a product of greedy, sick alphas who are looking for a vulnerable omega they can groom to do whatever they want, and people who refuse to give it up.”

“It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows,” Wren agrees. “My alphas had to come a long way to deserve me. Biology forced me to bend sooner than I would have, but they’ve never been less than amazing since.”

“I love the shitheads too,” Aisling chuckles. “Wren and her pack basically adopted me and helped me when I was depressed and silently spiraling. There’s always a point where we need to ask for help. Things can get really dark very quickly otherwise.”

“In keeping with staying busy,” Wren drawls, “we have aptitude tests for omegas who are trying to figure out their next steps. Is there anything you enjoyed?”

“Reading,” I say with a shrug. “I was never allowed to leave the house, and my father’s guards made me uncomfortable. I stayed in my room often. It’s sad how pampered I was. I didn’t realize he was feeding me hormone suppressant pills every morning. He made it part of my routine.”

“You can’t blame yourself for not seeing it when it was considered part of your norm,” Wren says. “You trusted him.”

“You may be a little hesitant about pills with good reason after everything, but there are hormone supplements that will help with your heat,” Aisling says. “You not only have a scent match, but are bonded. From experience, I can say heats without your pack are awful.”

“My upcoming one will be next week unless my body decides that I can’t physically handle it,” I say.

“That’s possible,” Wren says. “My body skipped heats because of trauma. We unfortunately won’t know until it happens.”

“What will happen if I take a hormone suppressant?” I ask. “When I took the ones my father gave me, I didn’t go into heat at all. I’m twenty-two and just had my first last month.”

“It forced you not to mature at all,” Wren mutters. “I was on hormone suppressants, but it kept me almost childlike. My heat was very difficult afterward. We may need to have some blood tests done before we decide whether or not it’s safe.”

“At a hospital?” I ask, chewing on my bottom lip.

“We have the beginnings of a clinic starting,” Aisling explains. “It’s nothing fancy, but a doctor friend of mine is donating the time of the residents and newer nurses at his hospital to help us.”

“Really?” I ask. “Is there anything you don’t have here?”

“Lots,” she says with a smirk. “The room is a large storage closet and really rudimentary, but it’s a start. One of the nurses comes in later today if you’re comfortable with seeing her.”

“Would it be possible to have one of you in there with me?” I ask, my voice cracking. “I don’t have the best track record with needles or IVs recently.”

“Of course,” Wren says. “Shaw is picking me up soon, I think, but Aisling can. I wanted to meet you, so I had him drive me. He’s working in the city to stay busy in the meantime. You may notice it’s been quiet here.”

“Yeah, I did. Why is that?” I ask.

“I just redirected everyone to another area of the building,” Aisling says with a shrug. “This gives Wren a little space too. We all work around each other’s abilities, and no one minds.”

“Thank you,” I whisper. I don’t think I’d have been able to open up if there had been a lot of people around. “Can you tell me about the aptitude test?”

“There’s one on the computer,” Wren says. “We’ve been working with someone to make it more accurate for omegas because our minds work differently. I remember how frustrated I was when I took one almost a year ago. It didn’t help at all.”

“You figured it out,” Aisling teases her. “You can take it while we wait for the nurse to come in if you’d like?”

After the dump of emotional trauma, I feel as if I need to do something to redirect myself. I don’t want to wallow.

“I would,” I tell her, standing as she does. Unfortunately, my legs feel like jello from sitting for so long, and I fall right back down. “I really hate how shaky I am.”

“You haven’t used your muscles in a while,” Wren reminds me, helping me back up. “Work up to getting stronger, three weeks of being forced to sleep doesn’t come without repercussions.”

The reminder makes me nod, forcing myself to stay upright as I walk with them to the computer lab. Once I’m there and working my way through questions, I start to feel as if I’m working toward something.

It’s silly, because it’s just a test, but maybe it’ll help me figure out what I want to do with my life.

Even if I didn’t have a pack with all of these issues, I would still need money and financial security. I can’t live here forever, and I refuse to take help forever. One step at a time is enough.

I just hope they’re steps in the right direction.

Glaring at the screen, I ask myself if this is some odd joke.

“What does it say and why is it pissing you off?” Aisling asks, Wren not far behind.

“It just doesn’t make sense to me,” I mutter. “Good with people is a joke, because I don’t know if I’ll ever crack a smile for the rest of my life. I also don’t understand how I have good communication skills. Basically, the assessment says I would either be a good bartender, tax accountant, because I’m good with numbers, or that I should go to school for continued education.”

“It’s not perfect still, but I’ve never seen it be so vague,” Wren grumbles in solidarity. “The bartending and going back to school could work together, though. There are scholarships available that you could apply for too.”

A part of me feels wrong taking a scholarship. I’m not sure why, but if I can make the money I’ll need to go back to school, then I should.

“You also don’t have to smile in order to make good tips as a bartender,” Aisling says. “I bartended for a couple of years, and people want to know that you can give them drinks efficiently and do your job. That’s it.”

“So many people,” Wren says, shaking her head. “Aisling said that all the scents would get to her while bartending, so she’d use an alpha gel to block it, so she could work.”

“That part sucked,” Aisling admits. “I was sixteen when I started bartending and that’s basically when omegas are in the middle of puberty and struggling not to slick every two seconds.”

“I apparently missed that part of puberty,” I say, shaking my head.

“Same,” Wren agrees. “The suppressants keep all of that away, and you weren’t around people. Alphas have a way of being a large presence, affecting you without realizing it.”

“I’m open to the gel if it’s needed, but I can’t really be influenced by alphas,” I explain. “The alpha bark doesn’t work on me at all, and I don’t think I’ll be attracted to someone for a long time. If ever.”

“Valid,” Aisling says with a nod. “I have an in with a bar if you want me to ask if he needs anyone? He watches out for his people.”

“There’s Cerenity too, if he doesn’t,” Wren adds. “Basically, we can help you find a job if you want it.”

“I do,” I say with a nod. “Would it be odd to start studying drinks, so I don’t completely suck at this?”

“Study away,” Aisling says with a nod. “Wren is leaving in a few minutes. Shaw wants his mate back.”

“Well it’s nice of him to share,” comes out of my mouth before I can stop it and Wren bursts out into laughter.

“It was,” she says. “I’ll tell him, stroke his ego a bit. I may make it a habit to come up here more often. Today wasn’t as overwhelming as it can be.”

“Now we know how to make it work,” Aisling says with a shrug.

Watching them support each other makes me happy. I hope I can find people who care about me even when I'm a mess. I don’t know if I’ll ever feel normal, but maybe that’s overrated. My life has always been lonely and full of rules. It’s hard to imagine being free to make my own decisions.

No alphas telling me what to do or when. It’s hard to picture.

The two of them leave while I look up popular drink recipes, and people trickle in as I work.

“Are you such a drunk that you need to be looking up recipes while you’re here?” someone asks as they sit next to me. “Do I need to ask Aurelia for a twelve step program for you?”

“What?” I ask, glancing at the red head next to me. She has a cruel sneer on her lips as she gazes at me, and I shake my head. “No, I’ve never had an alcoholic beverage in my entire life. I want to get a bartending job, but I don’t have any experience at it.”

“Oh,” she says, her face blanking. “I assumed wrong. That’s actually a really smart idea.”

Ignoring her because I don’t need her approval, and she seems like a bitch, I continue working on memorizing different drinks and their substitutions.

“Adira, she’s here,” Aisling says as I glance up. Nodding, and appreciating that she didn’t announce that I was waiting for the nurse, I close out of my browser tabs.

Standing, I walk out of the room with her, noticing that it’s a lot more busy in the outreach center. There are women talking to case managers, there appears to be a lawyer talking to someone, and my eyes widen at the increase of noise.

“This is why Wren limits how much she comes to the Haven,” Aisling says. “I don’t mind the hustle and bustle of it all, and I have an office to hide in when I need a break. We work within our boundaries. It doesn’t mean we’re not as valued.”

“I think I needed to hear that,” I murmur as I follow her down a hallway where a door is propped open.

It is a storage closet that’s been semi converted into a clinic. It’s been cleaned out, there’s a sitting area, and a nurse is waiting for us.

“Hi,” she says with a smile. “I’m tucked in a corner so I can leave the door open in case tight spaces bother you. It’s rare, but it happens. It also gives us some privacy. I’m Laurell Price, a nurse working on some practice hours to keep my license up to date.”

Appreciating how transparent she’s being, I nod. “I’m Adira,” I murmur as I step inside. “Tight spaces don’t really bother me, though.”

“Good. I understand I’ll be looking at a gunshot wound that’s healing?” she asks.

“It’s on my shoulder blade,” I explain. “It’s about three weeks old, but I lost the bandage yesterday.”

“No worries, come sit,” she says quickly. I’m still weaving a little, and hope I’m able to deal with the long hours on my feet as a bartender.

I just want to feel normal again.

Sitting, I give a small sigh of annoyance at myself.

“Can you tell me why you’re so weak?” she asks.

“After the gunshot wound, I was sedated against my will for three weeks,” I explain. “I feel really weak still, no matter how much I try to stay on my feet.”

“Hmm,” she says. “Let’s see what the blood tests tell me. Have you lost any weight because of it?”

“I haven’t been on a scale, but I feel as if I have,” I say. “I wasn’t eating very much during that time.”

Pulling out a few vials and needle to do the blood draw, she nods. “This isn’t going to make you feel much better, but it’ll hopefully give us some answers,” she says. “It’s normal to feel weak or dizzy after a blood draw. I think some juice will help if you haven’t had much to eat today?”

“I tried to eat,” I say with a shrug.

“I wouldn’t have wanted to eat either,” Aisling reassures me. “Talking about sad things has a way of taking away your appetite.”

“Perfectly fine, let’s help mitigate how you’ll feel after this because of that,” the nurse says with a nod.

Aisling disappears for a moment to find a glass of orange juice, and the nurse begins to swab my arm.

“You’re probably not a fan of needles after being shot, huh?” she asks. At my small head shake, she nods. “The blood is going straight to the lab to process, and then I’ll be back in three days to tell you about what it says. You won’t be waiting long.”

The nurse tells me about how she’s going to test my blood for levels of nutrients, a STD panel, and a few other things that will give me insight into my health. I figure without her telling me that this will also help me determine the likelihood of having a heat next week.

Aisling comes back as the nurse walks me through what’s happening, right up until the blood draw. I don’t have a chance to feel anxious, and after I take a small breath of relief.

“That didn’t even hurt,” I murmur.

“Good, that means all my practice is helping,” the nurse teases me.

After she fills the three vials full of blood, I drink my juice slowly. My arm is wrapped up with a bandage to hold pressure as the pin prick on my arm clots, and while I feel a little dizzy, the juice should help.

“Can I see your shoulder?” Laurell asks, and I put the cup down, biting my lip because I have to take my shirt off.

“I can step out or stay to close the door,” Aisling says, seeing my problem. I’m wearing a bra so her seeing me doesn’t bother me. I’d just feel more comfortable with the door closed.

“In and closed, please,” I tell her, feeling better about the decision.

Pulling my shirt over my head, I turn to show the nurse my back. She changes her gloves before touching the skin, checking to see how it looks.

“It’s healing really well,” she admits. “Did you get treated at a hospital?”

“Kitchen operation,” I say softly. The nurse’s fingers still before stepping away. Turning to face her, I see her working to keep her face under control. I understand, I do. She must hear a lot of stories when she works here.

“They did a good job,” she says. “It won’t need to be covered anymore, there’s no redness. It’ll barely scar as well.”

“Glad to hear he did a good job,” I mumble numbly, pulling my shirt back on. I don’t want to think about how much it hurt or how I thought I was going to tumble into the darkness of my mind and never leave.

Everything feels hard, bleak, and sad. I’m already tired of it, I want something good to hold onto.

“Do you want me to look at anything else?” she asks, noting that she touched a nerve.

“Actually,” I start. “I want to work on strengthening my body. It’s ridiculous that I can’t manage to walk without wanting to fall over.”

“I bet it’s frustrating,” she agrees. “Your body wants fuel. Feed it, and start going on small walks. The courtyard is a good place to start, though I know it’s cold. Then move up to the treadmill. I’m a little afraid that if we start you on the treadmill, you’ll fall off.”

The image of that makes me snort, though there’s little amusement behind it. God, I’m officially an old curmudgeon at the age of twenty-two. Lovely.

“I have enough bruises, I don’t think my small ego could handle it if I fell off a treadmill,” I admit.

“Start easy,” she reminds me. “Eat small portions throughout the day if a full meal feels overwhelming. Most importantly, be kind to yourself. I don’t know your story, but when life beats on you, it’s easy to be hard on yourself too.”

The kindness makes my eyes well, though I’m able to hold the tears back as I nod jerkily.

“Thank you,” I rasp, taking the time to drain the cup of orange juice.

“If you’re going to stand, ease into it,” Laurell suggests.

Nodding, I take her advice, finding I’m only slightly wobbly and a bit dizzy. It’s better than I expected to be, yawning, I cover my mouth.

“Sorry,” I murmur, making a face.

“Thanks, Laurell,” Aisling says, opening the door. “You don’t have another appointment for a few minutes.”

Stepping out, we begin to walk down the hall.

“Feel like a walk and a chat?” Aisling asks. “Caleb wants to talk with you before he hires you. We’ll find you a pair of boots, grab you a snack, and a warmer coat.”

“Sure,” I say with a nod. I’m aware I don’t look at all ready for an interview, but if she’s not worried about my appearance, then I won’t either.

“Perfect,” she says. Aisling reminds me of a whirlwind of energy as she walks with me to the shelter and helps me find what I need. Someone made some protein balls that actually don’t taste too bad, and I nibble on one as we step outside into the alley after I sign out.

“Whenever you leave the shelter, you’ll leave from this door,” Aisling explains as I look around. It’s empty and quiet, and the alley is narrow. “Alphas aren’t allowed in this alley so it doesn’t bother anyone. If I need help with bringing things through here, I ask someone from the shelter to help. If I need muscle, I ask Evan, who is a beta in my pack.”

“You’re really careful,” I observe.

“We need to be,” she says as we walk. “I never want someone to feel as if they’re thrown into an emergency response because I was too lazy to carry my own shit. Anyone who delivers food to the side door, for our grocer, is a beta. I honestly hate having to have someone deliver our food, and want to be more self-sufficient. It just takes a lot of time to grocery shop on the level the shelter needs.”

“I don’t think I’ve been able to keep track of how many people are staying here,” I say as we pop out of the alley and take a right.

“Roughly about twenty-five women right now,” Aisling says so softly I almost don’t hear her. “It fluctuates, too. Some people stay longer than others. It all depends on when they’re here and how much they need.”

“I never would have imagined that this existed,” I tell her honestly.

“It didn’t until about a year ago,” she says. “Wren and I met and the idea took flight. It was difficult to find a building at first, my age was a big factor in getting people to take me seriously.”

Aisling appears to be in her early twenties, but it’s hard to tell with her face bare of makeup and her hair in a high ponytail. She’s wearing cute earmuffs over her ears and a gray coat over a dress, and looks to be warm.

I may have a coat, mittens, and boots, but the wind is finding every available place to whip through and freeze me. Ugh.

“I don’t know why age makes you any less capable,” I admit.

“Well, there are also people who like keeping omegas vulnerable,” Aisling says. “All of that made it very difficult to find the responses we needed, and it was very frustrating. My father finally had to step in when our grocer kept delivering spoiled food or nothing at all.”

“Your father?” I ask.

She’s keeping a steady, slow pace, and I find that the longer I continue to stay in motion, the easier it is. I may want to fall over afterward, but I’ll deal with that. For now, it’s nice to be able to enjoy a walk.

It’s so simple, but I haven’t been allowed to do it in months. Forcing my mind away from the reason why I haven’t, I focus on Aisling’s answer.

“Cian Sullivan,” she says. I vaguely remember my father grumbling about someone by that name, and realize he’s in the mafia as well. “I don’t like to drag him into things I think I should be able to do alone. He reminded me that I’m very stubborn.”

I can see that, and I think it’s one of my favorite parts about her. I barely know her, but neither her or Wren blinked or flinched away from my story. I have a feeling they have stories that are similar in some ways to mine, along with really stupid alphas.

“There’s a women’s group who seems to be funneling omegas who are difficult to the auctions,” Aisling explains. “The bitch who runs it decided I should be shipped out and hired alphas to do her dirty work. Instead, I killed them, and went right back to being a thorn in her side.”

“Woah,” I murmur. “She’s still an issue?”

“Emilia is protected by people. I have a feeling it may be Rock and Ophelia, which means their auction is just the tip of the iceberg,” Aisling says. “My dad said he can’t kill her, even though he wants to. He’s very protective.”

My heart cramps at the thought of a father who actually did things to protect their daughter. I have no idea what that looks like. While he had men around the property, it was to keep him and his belongings safe. I was someone he could use for his own selfish purposes, not someone he loved. I will die on that hill.

“The auction I was sold at was moved up,” I remember. “It was supposed to happen a week later, but authorities were beginning to get wind of things. I wonder if things are getting harder for Rock.”

“I hope,” Aisling growls. “Ophelia should be ashamed for selling omegas when she is one.”

“I don’t think she cares about anything other than the money,” I say. “I have a feeling she’s afraid of Rock, but that’s the only person keeping her in check.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” she says. “My dream is for more people to open organizations like Omega’s Haven in other cities. There are so few services for omegas. What if an omega finds themselves with stalkers and she or he is kidnapped? No one cares. Or if there’s a domestic violence situation and the omega runs? Where is she supposed to go? Don’t get me started on foster care, because I’ll talk your ear off.”

“What’s wrong with it? Aren’t they supposed to place people with families?” I ask, though she told me not to.

“The families who want omegas sometimes do so they can run a business of selling them to people,” Aisling says, eyes glittering with anger. “They’re not safe, which is why I did everything possible to make sure I didn’t end up in the system.”

We’re at a business called Finnegan’s Bar now, which is tucked into a busy street. It’s a brick building with a wooden sign to announce itself. It has a rustic feel, and my heart starts to pound a bit as Aisling climbs the steps to the door and knocks.

“Caleb is one of the best alphas I know, and he and his brother helped keep me out of the system. They may not have known that when I was sixteen and homeless, but they did,” she says as the door opens to reveal a large man with brown hair and green eyes.

His arms show off colorful tattoos despite the cold, and I can feel the full weight of his stare as it falls on me.

“You look like a stiff breeze is gonna bowl you over,” he complains, glaring at Aisling.

I finished my snack on the walk here and I straighten my back as I shove my hands into the pockets of my coat.

“I’m working on that,” I say instead with a shrug. I’m not going to apologize for something I can’t control.

Caleb grunts as he stomps back into the bar and Aisling rolls her eyes.

“Always so nice to see you too!” she yells back, letting the door close behind him. “You’re hired, want to go to lunch with me?”

“I’m what?” I ask, slack jawed.