Heat Unleashed: A Reverse Harem Omegaverse Romance, page 4
“Should I be?”
“Everyone is.” Marissa’s eyes gleamed. “They practically run the world, especially the three who own this place—Pack Cross. Most women would kill to know what I know about them.”
“Which is?”
The question was a mistake. Marissa launched into an extended monologue about the three alpha owners, clearly relishing her role as information gatekeeper.
“Mr. Cross—Lucian—he runs this place. He’s the coldest of the three. Ruthless businessman. I’ve heard he’s never seen with the same omega twice.” She arranged crackers in a perfect circle. “He’s got a temper, too. Last month, an omega client got too clingy, tried to follow him to his private floor. Security had to intervene.”
Lily made appropriate noises of interest while focusing on her task, letting most of Marissa’s gossip flow past her. She caught bits about Knox—”built like a tank and scary as hell. He’s usually quiet and doesn’t talk much, but when he does, you better listen”—and Vincent—”the doctor with the bedroom eyes, total player.”
“Of course,” Marissa added, glancing sideways at Lily’s oversized sweater, “none of them would look twice at kitchen staff. Especially ones who dress like they’re hiding from a fashion crime tribunal.”
Lily ignored the jab. “Is there a specific way Chef wants these arranged?”
Marissa sighed dramatically. “You really don’t get it, do you? Working here is about more than just doing the job. It’s about connections, positioning yourself.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Some staff members get promoted to more... interesting positions. The pretty ones, anyway.”
“I’m happy in the kitchen,” Lily replied evenly.
“Good thing, since that sweater isn’t doing you any favors.” Marissa’s smile was sugar-sweet. “Though I’m curious why you’re even wearing it. It’s not regulation uniform, and it’s at least eighty degrees in here.”
Lily shrugged. “I get cold easily.”
“Right.” Marissa’s tone made it clear she didn’t believe that for a second. “Well, don’t let Chef catch you in it. He’s strict about uniform policy.”
As if summoned by his name, Chef Marcel appeared beside them, his critical gaze sweeping over their work. “You,” he pointed at Lily, “what is that monstrosity you’re wearing?”
Marissa’s smirk was barely concealed as Lily reluctantly removed her sweater, revealing the fitted uniform beneath. She folded it carefully, fighting the instinct to use it as a shield.
“Better,” Chef nodded. “Can’t have you catching that on fire. Kitchen safety.” He turned to Marissa. “Stop gossiping and finish those platters. Service starts in ten.”
As Chef walked away, Marissa said, “Huh. The uniform almost makes you look like you belong here. Almost.”
Lily focused on arranging fruit, ignoring the comment. She could handle Marissa’s pettiness. She’d survived much worse.
As the day progressed, Lily fell into the rhythm of the kitchen. Despite Marissa’s subtle jabs and condescension, there was something comforting about the predictable chaos of food preparation. Chopping vegetables, arranging platters, washing dishes— these tasks kept her mind busy but didn’t require her to deal with people. Simple work with clear rules.
By the time evening service began, Lily’s feet ached and her back protested, but she felt a quiet sense of accomplishment. She’d survived day one without major incident. As staff members from other departments filtered in for their meals, Lily kept her head down, focusing on her tasks rather than the curious glances cast her way.
“New girl,” Chef Marcel called, gesturing her over. “Tomorrow, six AM sharp. Breakfast prep.”
Lily nodded, suppressing a wince at the early hour. “Yes, Chef.”
As she hung up her apron and prepared to retreat to her room for the night, Marissa appeared beside her.
“Well, you didn’t completely crash and burn,” she conceded, examining her manicured nails. “But don’t get comfortable. This place has a way of testing people. The ones who seem strongest often break first.”
Something in her tone made Lily pause. “Speaking from experience?”
A flicker of genuine emotion crossed Marissa’s face before her mask of superiority slipped back into place. “Just friendly advice. This isn’t an ordinary workplace. The sooner you understand that, the better your chances of lasting.”
With that cryptic warning, she turned and walked away, leaving Lily alone with a growing sense that surviving the Knot Club would require more than just keeping her head down and doing her job.
She’d need to guard her secrets more carefully than ever.
Chapter 6
Knox
“Hold still, you big baby,” Vincent muttered, his steady hands working the suture needle through the gash on Knox’s forehead. “This wouldn’t hurt so much if you’d stop scowling.”
Knox sat rigid on the examination table in Vincent’s clinic on the 11th floor, arms crossed tightly over his chest. Blood had dried in a rusty trail down the side of his face, making his dark mood match his appearance.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Knox growled as the needle pierced his skin again. He wasn’t wincing from the pain—he’d endured far worse—but from the knowledge that someone had gotten close enough to land a hit. “Just hurry up.”
Vincent’s hands never faltered, despite Knox’s impatience. “Rush a doctor, get a sloppy scar. Your choice.”
The clinic door hissed open as Lucian strode in, his expression darkening when he saw the state of Knox’s face.
“What the hell happened?” Lucian demanded, moving closer to inspect the damage.
Knox’s jaw tightened. “Pack of alphas. Three of them. Almost managed to breach the south entrance.” He sucked in a sharp breath as Vincent tied off another suture. “This is the second time this month, Lucian. Second time.”
Vincent’s eyebrows shot up, but he kept working, his focus unwavering as he cleaned away more blood.
“How did they bypass the security systems?” Lucian’s voice was dangerously quiet. “We have the most advanced measures money can buy.”
Knox nodded grimly. When they’d built the club, they’d engineered every detail with security in mind. Multiple authentication layers, biometric scanners, motion sensors, and a trained security team that operated 24/7. Nothing about it should have been penetrable.
“Someone gave them access codes,” Knox said flatly. “Has to be. There’s no way they’d get past our exterior defenses otherwise. No way they’d know exactly which security cameras to avoid, which doors have the weakest protection.”
Lucian’s dark eyes narrowed. “You think we have a mole.”
It wasn’t a question. All three men knew what this meant. Someone inside their secure operation—someone they trusted—was betraying them.
“It has to be an employee,” Knox continued, wincing as Vincent dabbed antiseptic across his wound. “It can’t be our clients—they, more than anyone, have reason to keep this place secure. Their reputations, careers, sometimes even marriages depend on our discretion.”
“Any suspicions?” Lucian asked, his voice eerily calm despite the rage Knox could see simmering beneath the surface.
Knox shook his head slightly, mindful of Vincent’s work. “Not yet. But there’s no way I’m not finding out who it is.” His green eyes locked with Lucian’s dark ones. “The second breach targeted a completely different entrance with entirely different security protocols. Whoever’s leaking information knows our systems intimately.”
“We need to tighten security,” Lucian said, his voice cold and precise. “Change all access codes, upgrade the surveillance, add more personnel. One serious breach could destroy everything we’ve built.”
“I know,” Knox said. “I’m on it. We’ll review all access records, check communication logs. I’ll implement rotating authentication protocols immediately.”
“All done,” Vincent announced, stepping back to admire his handiwork. “Try not to tear my masterpiece open by scowling too hard.”
Knox touched the neat row of stitches on his forehead, then slid off the examination table. “Thanks, doc.”
Vincent began cleaning up his supplies. “Who else was hurt?”
“Just me,” Knox replied. “The security team responded quickly, but I was first on the scene. Got this when one of them took a swing with something metal.”
“And the alphas?” Lucian asked.
Knox’s expression turned grimmer. “They managed to scatter. Disappeared into the city before backup arrived.” His fingers clenched into a fist. “Two got away clean. One left blood on my knuckles, but still escaped.”
Lucian’s jaw tightened, understanding all that remained unspoken. Alphas who breached their security and escaped were a ticking time bomb. They could return with more sophisticated methods or, worse, sell the security vulnerabilities they’d discovered to competitors.
“We need to find them,” Knox added. “But first, I need to check our personnel files. Find our leak. Someone with high-level access to our security systems is involved.”
While Lucian and Vincent maintained offices on the upper floors, Knox had chosen to situate himself on the third floor, among the employees. Keeping his enemies closer, as he often joked. The truth was more practical—he liked having his finger on the pulse of the club, sensing shifts in mood, catching whispers of discontent before they became problems.
He prided himself on good instincts. And right now, those instincts were screaming that someone in their carefully vetted staff wasn’t who they claimed to be.
Leaving Vincent’s clinic, Knox took the stairs down to the third floor, his long legs eating up the distance quickly. He strode past the kitchen, where staff were preparing for dinner service, the aroma of freshly baked bread and sizzling steak momentarily distracting him from the dull throb in his head.
His security section occupied the far end of the staff floor, behind a heavy door with biometric locks. Inside, monitors displayed feeds from cameras throughout the building, while a small team of security personnel monitored various sensors and alarms.
“Everything quiet?” he asked the team lead, a former military man who’d proven his worth over three years of service.
“All clear, sir. No unusual activity since the incident. I’ve already begun the security protocol reset you requested.”
Knox nodded, then retreated to his private office—a simple space dominated by a large desk and multiple screens. He sank into his chair and pulled up the employee database, beginning the tedious process of reviewing each file for inconsistencies or red flags. He paid special attention to who had accessed which security systems and when.
Two hours in, his eyes burning from staring at the screen, he came across Lily Caldwell’s file. The newest hire. Kitchen assistant. Employment history spotty, references minimal. A grainy photo showed a woman with what appeared to be dark hair, her features indistinct, expression unreadable in the poor image quality.
Knox frowned. His initial suspicion evaporated when he checked the dates. The first attack had occurred nearly two weeks ago, and the second just today. She’d only started working here yesterday—making it impossible for her to be their leak.
Still, something about her file nagged at him. Lucian had mentioned creating a kitchen position for her after rejecting her for the heat assistant role. That alone was unusual—Lucian never made impulsive staffing decisions.
“Because he had a feeling,” Lucian had said when Knox questioned him.
A feeling. From Lucian Cross, the man who made decisions based solely on cold, hard logic. The man who claimed to be immune to instinct. Something didn’t add up.
If there was one thing Knox had learned in life, it was to trust his gut. And his gut was telling him there was something off about Lily Caldwell.
Later that afternoon, Knox left his office to inspect the compromised entrance personally. His head had stopped throbbing, but his mood remained dark. Three alphas had nearly breached their security. Three. When even one getting into the club could spell disaster.
As he rounded the corner near the kitchen, a small figure collided with his chest. The impact barely registered for him, but the other person stumbled backward, nearly dropping the heavy tray they carried.
Knox’s hand shot out instinctively, catching a slim wrist before the person could fall. His eyes landed on a mass of vibrant red hair—a striking detail the grainy photo hadn’t captured—and a face he recognized as the new hire he’d been reading about hours earlier. Hazel eyes, flecked with gold and green, looked up at him with surprise—another feature the poor-quality image in her file had failed to convey.
Lily Caldwell.
Her skin beneath his fingers felt neither warm nor cold—just there, like touching a mannequin. Her expression registered mild surprise but none of the intimidation or deference most betas showed when touching an alpha unexpectedly. No quickened breath, no dilated pupils, no instinctive submission.
Most disconcerting of all—no scent. Nothing. As if she were a ghost rather than flesh and blood.
“Watch where you’re going,” he said, his voice coming out gruffer than intended.
Instead of apologizing or shrinking back like most would, Lily met his gaze directly. Her hazel eyes showed no fear, no awe, nothing but slight irritation.
Knox noticed more details in that frozen moment of contact. The oversized sweater she wore over her uniform. The way she held herself, slightly hunched as if trying to appear smaller than she was. The faint shadows under her eyes suggesting restless sleep.
And still, that strange absence of reaction. As if she were immune to his alpha presence.
She yanked her hand away from his grip, the tray wobbling but remaining upright. “Maybe don’t lurk around corners,” she muttered, just loud enough for him to hear.
Knox’s eyebrows shot up. Few people spoke to him that way, especially not new employees.
“Knox Adler,” he said, studying her closely. “Head of Security.”
Recognition flickered in her eyes—she knew who he was, then. But rather than showing the usual mixture of interest and intimidation most women displayed when meeting him, her expression smoothed into polite neutrality.
“Lily Caldwell. Kitchen staff.” Her voice was even, controlled. “Excuse me, I need to deliver this before it gets cold.”
Knox stepped aside, watching as she continued down the hallway, her posture straight but tense. She moved like someone accustomed to avoiding attention—efficient, quiet, invisible.
His suspicions deepened. There was something not quite right about Lily Caldwell. She was definitely hiding something.
Knox turned, watching her disappear around a corner. Whatever her secret was, he would find it. That’s what he did—uncovered the things people tried to hide.
Chapter 7
Lily
Lily sat cross-legged on her bed, staring at the small digital clock on her nightstand as it flipped to 11:00 PM. Three days down. Eighty-seven to go.
She’d begun keeping a mental tally, counting down the days of her employment like a prisoner tracking time until release.
She pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them as she replayed the day’s events in her mind. Marissa had been marginally less hostile today, which was something. Chef Marcel had actually nodded approvingly at her knife skills. Small victories that shouldn’t have mattered but somehow did.
Then there was the encounter with Knox Adler yesterday. His green eyes examining her like she was a puzzle to solve. The way his hand had closed around her wrist—firm and unyielding. She’d yanked away instinctively, uncomfortable with anyone touching her, especially an alpha.
Knox and Lucian. Alphas. The word still made her stomach clench with the memory of her parents’ warnings. Dangerous. Volatile. Driven by base instincts rather than higher thinking. Avoid at all costs.
Yet they didn’t seem like the slavering beasts from her parents’ cautionary tales. They seemed... controlled. Almost coldly so. Lucian with his calculating gaze that seemed to see right through her. Knox with his quiet intensity, watching her with suspicious eyes.
Something about them felt different from the few other alphas she’d encountered over the years. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Sure, they were good-looking, but that wasn’t unusual. Their physical presence was commanding, but that was just biology, nothing special there.
Maybe it was the way they held themselves—like men who knew exactly who they were and made no apologies for it. Or maybe it was the way the air seemed to change when they entered a room, as if the very molecules rearranged themselves to accommodate their presence.
Lily shook her head sharply, annoyed at herself for giving them this much mental real estate. The goal was to avoid them entirely, not analyze why they seemed different from other alphas. Any interest, even clinical curiosity, was dangerous. Getting noticed in any way—even negatively—would put her at risk. And staying unnoticed was how she’d survived this long.
She slid under the covers, pulling them up to her chin despite the room’s comfortable temperature. Just three months. She could do this. She’d survived far worse for far longer.
“Fuck!” The curse slipped out before Lily could stop it as the knife slipped from her grasp and clattered against the metal prep table before falling to the floor—but not before slicing across her lower leg just above the ankle.
Blood immediately seeped through her sock, a warm wetness spreading inside her shoe. She grabbed a nearby towel, bending down to press it against the wound as Chef Marcel glanced over with a frown.
“Let me see,” he demanded, his usual gruffness tempered with professional concern. He motioned for her to remove the pressure just enough for a quick assessment, his face impassive. “That’s a deep cut. You’re going to need stitches.”
