2. Paul

2

PAUL

“ H ello, is this Mr. Arison?"

Tucking my phone between my shoulder and ear, I drag my notepad toward me. "This is. How may I help you?"

A relieved sigh fills the line, but I'm used to strange reactions when people get ahold of me. I'm a highly sought after lawyer in Baltimore, so I can't make time for everyone who needs me, unfortunately.

"Mr. Arison, this is Stacey from the OPS Rehabilitation Center."

I've heard of the new system that was thrown together to help those poor kids get back on their feet. I haven't worked with anyone directly from the center, but maybe they need some help too. The amount of shit that needs sorting from that god awful academy has been brought to my attention and even landed on my desk a few times this past year.

I'm part of a whole team of enforcement and lawyers trying to sort this fuckery out and make sure these monsters are thrown away for good. Not to mention the omega trafficking that seriously needs to be brought down. Aside from my daily work, I've used all my extra time and energy helping the OPS dismantle The Premium Designation Academy from a legal standpoint.

"How can I help you Stacey?" I reply, readying myself to take notes.

It's silent for a beat until Stacey clears her throat. "I'm contacting you on behalf of Amaya Rose."

Rose. That sounds familiar.

My brows furrow as I rack my brain in hopes of why that name strikes a chord. I deal with a lot of people, good and bad guys, so I'm going to need some more direction. "I am unfamiliar with that name."

"Yes, my apologies," Stacey says. I detect a hint of nervousness, but my concern for the woman flies out the window with her next statement. "I'm calling on behalf of one of our omegas here at our rehabilitation center. Amaya Rose needs your help. Your daughter, Mr. Arison."

For the past two weeks that phone call has played over and over in my mind.

I have a daughter!

That's not the only part of that phone call that ripped my heart out and shredded my soul. Not only do I have a daughter who I never knew existed, but the poor girl was at that fucking academy. I spent hours and days going through the information they sent me on Amaya.

Fucking Stephanie Rose . Well, shit, I guess I did fuck her, didn't I?

Amaya's mother, Stephanie, and I met at a bar when we were in our early twenties. She was a short little firecracker that oozed confidence. That woman had me by the balls the first time we locked eyes.

God, what has she told our daughter about me?

My knee bounces anxiously as I wait for the entrance doors to open. The air conditioning has been blasting for the past six hours it took me to get here, yet my hands leave sweaty prints on the steering wheel.

I'm in the middle of debating whether I should go inside and disregard their orders for me to wait outside when a girl storms out of the building. Rage and sorrow are etched into her features. I'm out of the car faster than I can even register the burning need to protect her. She's mine. I can see it in her wavy long brown hair so similar to my own.

Amaya.

The closer I get to the emotional girl the more I notice. Obviously I knew she was an omega, but I'm surprised to see how short she is compared to my tall six-foot-seven frame. My height is normal for an alpha, but I would say she is even shorter for an omega.

Like her mother. The goddamn mother who sold her. Who never fucking told me I had a little girl. I can't imagine what Amaya must think of me. Fingers crossed it's not as bad as she feels about Stephanie. That bitch can rot in jail for all eternity for what she did to Amaya.

Helping convict the parents who sold their omega children to the academy will go down as one of my greatest achievements. I just can't believe I had met one of those scumbags. Let alone impregnated one.

I barely notice the other girl following my kid across the sidewalk when Amaya's scent slams into me full force. Lavender and a crisp spring morning. Swirled with my fresh winter scent, it solidifies what I already knew.

Amaya Rose is my daughter.

"What's there to say? Hi, I'm the daughter you never gave a shit about. Sorry I'm so fucking damaged you now have to babysit a twenty-two-year-old so she doesn't kill herself? "

The single bachelor in me implodes at Amaya's alarming words. The lawyer with no family ceases to exist. What I become with Amaya's revelation is someone I never thought I would be capable of.

A father. One who would do anything for the girl standing in front of me. The woman, actually, because I missed twenty-two years of her life. No longer is Amaya the little girl I wish I would have had the privilege of loving. In her place is a woman who just shouted her trauma for the whole world to hear.

She wouldn't kill herself, would she?

My voice cracks on the first words I have ever spoken to her. "Amaya? Is that you, darling?"

The endearment slips out on accident, and I'm stuck praying like hell it doesn't freak her out.

I'll never forget the way Amaya's body stiffens and retreats from me, almost like she's trying to make herself as small as possible. The angry omega from before is no longer. What's left behind in the wake of her outburst is someone who has been abused for far too fucking long.

It takes a considerable amount of effort to hold my growl at bay and keep from reaching for Amaya. The urge to wrap my arms around her tiny frame and shield her from the world makes my skin itch and my throat bob with indescribable emotion.

Is this what having a kid is like? Overpowering protective instincts while grappling with the knowledge that they most likely don't want that from you.

What does Amaya want?

"You must be Paul. I'm Kate."

I take my eyes off Amaya for a second to confirm what her friend had said. I nod at her and return my attention to Amaya. "Can I take your bag, Maya?"

A pained wheeze spills from her wobbling lips, almost like she's trying to smother a whine. "That's not my name," she mutters without looking at me.

"Ah yes. Amaya here will reject any nickname you try to give her," the other omega says with a snort of laughter.

My gut twists at the realization that I already fucked up. Christ, I've been fucking up for twenty-two years now, actually. "I'm so sorry, Amaya. I didn't mean anything by it."

Her golden-brown eyes flick up to me for a brief moment that leaves me suspended in time. Golden brown orbs that hold so much goddamn depth I feel like I might drown. What breaks me even more is the fact that they might as well be an exact replica of my own eyes, yet mine don't hold a fucking fraction of the pain and weight hers do.

"It's fine. Let's just go," she mutters dejectedly.

My heart beats erratically as she all but runs past me to the car, not even saying bye to her friend.

Kate cups her hands over her mouth and shouts, "I'll be in touch!"

Amaya tosses the omega a quick wave before diving into my back seat. Why isn't she sitting in the front?

Kate clears her throat from beside me. "I know they gave you a lot of information on Amaya's case, but it's important you also see it from her point of view. Amaya is more complex than her experiences and symptoms typed up in a document."

I'm still locked in on my idling car, but my attention is on Kate's words. She must be my daughter’s age, but she holds the same sorrow and struggle in her eyes as Amaya. I'm so out of my comfort zone that it would do me a tremendous amount of good to listen to Kate.

"My advice to you," she says with a sigh. "Listen to her. Not just her words, but her body language. Like right now, she chose to sit in the back. That means she needs space. It's up to her if she wants to tell you why , so you're going to need to be patient."

I want to cry. Fuck. I'm a goddamn lawyer who kicks ass every day and is rarely brought down by my emotions. I work a tough and grueling job. I'm strong as an alpha should be, yet here I am freaking the fuck out on the inside.

How am I supposed to help Amaya when I don't know the first thing about her? And what if she is actually suicidal?!

"You have my number," Kate says softly. "Both of you do. I'll be here for her as long as she needs me, and I'll be around frequently. You may see some of my pack mates at times too, but only if she's okay with it. She needs to get used to alphas and betas again if she's ever going to heal and live a good life.”

A good life. Can I give her that? After everything she's been through, I have to fucking try.