Pack Fever: Omegaverse Romance, page 31
Danica gasps, her hand clasping mine with a squeeze.
“I remember watching my mom trying to hold it together, her brave face failing to mask her heartbreak. She never said it, but she had to feel discarded.”
“Shit, how could he say that to her?”
“Well, the next day, he left us. Just like that. No goodbyes, no further explanations, just a note that he’s sorry things didn’t work out, along with a wad of cash.” The words are heavy, laden with years of grief and rejection. “My mother lost her mind, couldn’t cope. Dad walked out on both of us… So, she checked into a mental help institute one day without telling me... and I was left alone with no one at the age of seventeen.”
“Fuck.”
“He destroyed my mother and abandoned me, and I promised myself that I’d never end up with an Omega because if my father is capable of doing that, maybe I am too,” I finish, the admission laying bare my deepest fears. I’m not sure why I so openly confessed all of that. Maybe I’m tired of making excuses. Maybe I’ve finally admitted to myself that Danica means the fucking world to me. Either way… I don’t want to lose her. So, I need to come clean.
Her hold on my hand tightens a bit more, her eyes huge and staring at me with hurt.
The weight of my past, the story I’ve just shared with Danica, sits heavy between us. I don’t often allow myself to revisit those painful memories—the day my world turned upside down, the lingering agony of my mother’s heartbreak, the abandonment. It’s a wound that’s never fully healed, a scar that’s become a part of who I am.
Danica embraces me. As I hold her, the walls I’ve built around my heart start to crumble, piece by piece, because I crave closeness with her. The pain of remembering, of allowing myself to truly feel the loss and betrayal, is almost too much to bear. Yet, in her arms, I find the strength to believe that I won’t repeat history. I don’t even recognize myself right now.
Danica lifts her gaze, and her tears touch me.
“As far as I’m concerned, you are perfect as you are, especially when you open up and don’t hide your true feelings,” she says softly.
“I love hearing that so much more than you will ever realize.”
She truly sees me and accepts me with all my flaws, which is both terrifying and refreshing. Is this the happiness that a true bond with an Omega offers? Was this what my father had experienced with his Omega when he abandoned us?
The depth of what I feel for Danica, the gratitude, the burgeoning love, is overwhelming. And as we sit in the dim room, holding each other, I make a silent vow that when we get out of here—and we fucking will—I will make sure she’s mine, and the whole damn world will find out about us.
I don’t give a fuck what anyone, including a music company, thinks anymore.
What we have together should be celebrated, not hidden in the shadows.
“I’m sorry,” I finally admit, my chest squeezing. “For pushing you away, for being an asshole to you. You didn’t deserve that.” I lift her hand and kiss her fingers, one at a time, holding her gaze, desperate for her response.
Her expression turns serious, a storm of emotions passing through her eyes as she takes a deep, heavy breath. The room feels charged with the weight of my apology, every sound amplified in the tense silence.
“I don’t hate you for it,” she says softly, her voice steady. “I never did. I just waited for you to finally come to your senses.” There’s a smirk playing on her lips, a glimmer of the Danica I’ve come to admire.
In a moment of impulse, I lean in, closing the distance, our breaths heavy, in rhythm. I whisper, “You’re incredible,” the words barely escape my lips as I drown on the inside at the raw emotions building up inside me. I’m not a man to wear his heart on his sleeve. I keep it bottled up deep inside. It’s safe there, and no one can hurt me.
But around Danica, opening up feels easy, natural.
“I know,” she shrugs, a playful taunt in her gesture, but her gaze is tender, understanding. Then, her attention drops to my collarbone, and her fingers lightly trace the outline of the raven tattoo etched into my skin. “So, what’s the deal with the raven tat on your chest?” she asks while my focus is on the gentleness of her touch.
“It’s... it represents a part of me,” I start, choosing my words carefully. “The raven, it’s a symbol of change. I got it at a time in my life when I felt lost, when I needed to remind myself that change is possible, when I tried ending it all.” I pause, taking a deep inhale to steady myself, to not let the past emotions suffocate me. “The fact that I somehow survived the pain, the darkness, I got a tat of a raven, which I read is known in mythology as a messenger. And to me, that means my raven carries my secrets, my past, my transformation from pain to strength. I sound stupid when I say it aloud, but I used it a lot to think of myself as navigating through the darkest times.”
“God, that’s not stupid. It’s inspirational. Beautiful. Heart-wrenching,” she breathes out, her words washing over me. The admiration in her eyes feels surreal, as if I’m seeing myself through her perspective for the first time.
Here we are, in the least likely of places, and I’m pouring my damn soul out, yet it feels like the most natural thing in the world.
Having Danica press up against me, not shying away but instead seeking closeness, is intoxicating. The warmth of her body and the steadiness of her gaze draw me to her intensely.
It’s also a wake-up call that I can’t fuck this up. Getting her out of here is the priority… even at my own cost.
Chapter
Twenty-Nine
SETH
Parked a cautious distance from the target, Jasper and I survey the house that the tracker has led us to—a decrepit home with boarded-up windows standing out against the backdrop of similarly run-down homes. The only sign of recent activity is a black van parked out front, its windows tinted to midnight darkness. The area is unsettlingly quiet, the kind of quiet that speaks of the perfect place to hide bodies.
“No way in hell is this Nexus,” Jasper hisses, his words a low rumble of contained fury.
He leans in closer to me to peer out my car window while we assess the situation. The neighborhood feels deserted, save for a couple of houses farther down the street that show faint signs of life. Across the street from our target stretches out an open field, the faded sign reading Greenwood Sports Field barely visible in the dim light.
“Agreed,” I answer, my mind racing with anticipation. “We gotta be dealing with someone else… someone who’s been tracking us for a while… or, more specifically, searching for Danica.” The thought sends a chill down my arms as I remember the silver SUV waiting near her mom’s place that chased after us.
Jasper’s response comes in the form of a low grunt, his shoulders curling forward like he’s about to crash through the window and madly sprint to the house to fetch Danica.
“I’m ready to break their fucking faces,” he growls, the promise of violence simmering just beneath the surface.
Yet we remain still… for now. Our gazes fixed on the house when suddenly, another van pulls up. Six men disembark, their movements swift and purposeful, and despite their attempts to conceal them, the outlines of guns are visible against their sides as they hurry in through the front door. The sight tightens the knot of dread in my stomach.
“Fuckers,” Jasper murmurs. “I can take on three, but I knew we should have brought our guns on tour for protection.”
“Fuck that,” I counter, my voice hard with resolve. “We’re not getting into a full-out war. We won’t win, and I won’t risk Danica and Reed getting hurt. We need another way.”
The question hangs heavy in the air between us.
“You think she’s in there?” he asks.
“I have no doubts,” I answer fast, my gaze dropping to the glowing dot on my tracker app.
“So, what’s our plan, then? Storm in there? Please tell me we’re going to spill blood.” Jasper’s voice is laced with fury, the idea of a frontal assault clearly his preferred option. He’s never been one to shy away from fights, bulldozing into anyone who stands in his way. I know he gets satisfaction from it, and I’m not one to stand in his way, but at times like these, some preparation will save his ass.
“Nope,” I reply, a grin tugging at the corners of my mouth, despite the shithole of our situation. “What we need is a distraction. Something to lure them out, to have them preoccupied while we sneak in. If we’re quick, maybe we’ll go undetected.”
Jasper lets out a snorting laugh. “Right, a distraction in the country’s creepiest and quietest town? What are we going to do, set off fireworks and hope they come out to watch like it’s the Fourth of July?” His tone drips with sarcasm.
I can’t help but smile because, honestly, my plan isn’t that far off from his sarcastic suggestion.
Danica
The door to our makeshift prison room swings open with a force that has me flinching. Reed and I scramble to our feet, our backs pressed against the cold wall. My heart hammers against my ribcage, a frantic beat that thumps in my ears.
What do they want? To hurt us?
Two bulky men step into the room, their figures casting long shadows from the faint light behind them that seems to stretch out toward us. My gaze locks onto one of them, a flicker of recognition igniting in my mind.
He was a guard on the bus—the realization hits me like a physical blow.
“It’s you,” I blurt out. “But you don’t work for Nexus... do you?” I stammer as a rising panic claws through me.
The guard, a smirk playing on his lips, chuckles at my astonishment. “You’re not so dumb, apparently,” he taunts, and I bristle at his condescending tone. “How else was I going to get close to you Omegas?”
“So, you caused the bus to crash,” I shoot back, trying to keep him talking to buy us time. My mind races, desperate for a way out, keenly aware that Reed is doing the same.
“Wasn’t us, as we had different plans to take all four of you Omegas,” he admits, and there’s a hint of genuine anger in his voice. His grin is wide, revealing a row of teeth that sends an involuntary shiver down my spine.
So, who crashed into the bus then?
“Who the fuck are you if not Nexus?” Reed growls.
The man exchanges a glance with his friend, shrugging. “Doesn’t really matter to you, buddy. You won’t be around for much longer to worry about your little Omega. She’s been ours from the moment we spotted her and her friends at the Nocturne club when a Nexus enforcer busted them.”
My skin crawls at his confession. They’ve been on my tail since then? Plotting how to kidnap me?
“Like fuck she’s yours.” Reed instinctively nudges me to stand behind him, his chest puffing out. My heart’s pounding in my chest with fear of how this is going to end.
They don’t need to tell us who they are. I’m certain they are one of the many criminal organizations out there my mother warned me about. Those who steal and sell Omegas. They pretty much said it earlier, and I’m fuming that my friends and I have been their targets this whole time and had no clue.
Before we can muster a response, a third man barges into the room and makes a beeline for Reed. “Stop fucking around and just take him already,” he commands the two men, his order cutting through the tense air.
Reed doesn’t hesitate. He springs into action, his fist connecting with one assailant’s face with a thud. But the other man is quick, too quick, and he tackles Reed with a force that sends them both crashing into the wall with a sickening thud.
A cry spills past my lips as I stumble back, scanning the room for a weapon, for anything to get him off Reed.
“Leave him alone,” I scream.
Panic and rage war within me as I watch him drive a fist into Reed’s gut. He groans but clips the guard back with a fist under his chin, sending him backward, but the other two men are on Reed, hauling him away. He’s thrashing against their grip.
Terror crashes over me.
“Not such a tough man now, are you, when you’re not on stage? You’re just an asshole like the rest of us…” one of the guard’s taunts.
“Are you so stupid to think I’d be any different? Oh wait, I am because you’re fucking scum,” Reed spits back.
My heart feels like it’s being torn apart as I watch them drag him away. Tears blur my vision. I run after them, my hands grasping at one of the guard’s shirts, my voice raw as I scream.
“Get off him,” I bellow. There’s a primal fear gripping me, the terror of losing Reed, of being left alone in this nightmare.
I kick one of the men behind the knee. He stumbles, and in the ensuing chaos, I move with a speed and instinct I didn’t know I had. My hand closes around the cold metal of a gun tucked in his waistband.
Trembling, I back up and level the gun at them, my finger shaky on the trigger.
“Release him now!” I yell, my voice breaking with the intensity of my emotions.
The men all stop to turn and stare at me.
I’ve seen enough movies to know I need to take the safety off. With a trembling finger, I manage to flick the switch, and the change in the guards’ expressions is immediate—they stiffen, their eyes widening with the realization that I’m serious.
“What the fuck? She got your gun, you asshole,” the blond guard barks at his friend.
“Now!” I demand again, despite the tremors that rack my body.
The blond guard, who seems to be in charge, says, “You’re making a mistake. Give me back the gun, and we’ll let him go.”
“Stop patronizing me. I’m not an idiot,” I shout back, my heart pounding in my chest. “Release him now, or I start with your legs, then theirs.” I swing the gun to his companions, who watch me with a predatory stillness, their intentions unreadable. “And if you so much as go for your guns, I’ll shoot you.”
Sweat beads on my forehead, my grip on the gun slippery as I struggle to maintain control. I’m out of my depth, far from the comfort and safety I once knew, but the stakes are too high to back down.
I meet Reed’s gaze momentarily, and he’s giving me a grin, an expression that says he’s proud of me and supports my decision. His response fuels my strength not to give in to the fear swallowing me.
In that heart-stopping moment of silence, with nobody making a move and Reed still not released, an explosive boom from outside shatters the tense standoff.
Boom!
I flinch, a jolt of terror through me. My finger, already tensed on the trigger, flinches involuntarily, and the gun discharges with a deafening crack.
The bullet finds its mark in the blond guard’s arm. He’s thrown against the wall, howling in pain as he clutches his arm.
“You bitch,” the one in charge barks, and I swing my gun to him.
“Let Reed fucking go, or you’re next!”
Boom. Boom.
“What the hell was that sound?” the third man says, already out of the room, staring down the hallway.
The wounded guard, cursing through gritted teeth, snarls at his companion, “Release him. Fuck! Get me a medic.”
Reed wrenches free, but before I can process our fleeting chance at escape, the guard in the room backhands me with a force that sends me reeling. My grip on the gun loosens, and it’s swiftly torn from my hands. It all happens too fast.
As I tumble backward, the room spinning, pain exploding across my face, I catch a glimpse of Reed’s silhouette against the doorway where the wounded man is hauled out of the room, the door shutting urgently behind him. Reed thrusts his foot out and wedges it into the gap, preventing the door from slamming shut as the guards leave in a hurry.
He hisses under his breath from the ache, but the guards aren’t returning to shut the door. Their rushed footsteps are fading down the hallway.
From my position on the floor, the pain throbbing in my cheek, I strain to make sense of the tumultuous sounds filtering in from outside. It’s a cacophony of shouts, yells, and indistinct voices, something booming, reminiscent of the frenzied energy of one of our concerts.
The next thing I know, Reed’s got me by the hand, pulling me to my feet with an urgency that sends my heart racing.
“You did amazing, my gun-slinging beauty. Now, we need to run,” he says with something like admiration in his gaze on me. We’re on the move, me running alongside him out of the room and into the hallway. His grip is firm and reassuring in my hand.
My heart pounds in my chest as we dash through the hallway in the opposite direction from where the guards vanished.
I’m on high alert, scanning our surroundings. Farther behind us in the long corridor, I spot guards, their attention momentarily diverted as they fling the front door open, letting in a wave of sounds that are startling in their intensity. It’s a bizarre mix of shouts, laughter, and the unmistakable thump of Fever’s music blaring from outdoor speakers. The sight of cars and people scattered outside, caught up in some impromptu party, only adds to my confusion.
What’s going on?
Reed’s not paying attention and dragging me fast toward a rear exit in the house.
“Casey,” I whisper, my friend’s name slipping out almost involuntarily.
Reed doesn’t miss a beat; true to his word, he steers us toward the nearest rooms. We check three closed doors in quick succession, but the rooms are all empty.
A sickening dread settles in the pit of my stomach.
“I can’t leave without her,” I murmur, and Reed’s heaving for breath, his gaze slipping to the front of the house.
“I’ll come back and search for her, but I need to get you out first.”
Not giving me a chance to respond, he pulls me alongside him hastily, his pace relentless. We round a corner of the corridor, bursting into a grimy kitchen, only to be met by the hostile gaze of a guard. The man charges at Reed with a ferocity that sends a spike of fear through me.
