Page 15 of Daisy (Omega Chosen #3)

Gunner

T he van hums beneath my hands, steady and familiar. Highway stretches ahead in the pre-dawn darkness, broken only by the occasional truck carrying early freight. I keep my speed careful, controlled. Nothing that draws attention.

Behind me, soft voices drift from the back. August's mild beta scent mingles with something else. Something that's been fucking with my head for the past hour, getting stronger every time the wind shifts through the cracked windows.

Honeysuckle. Vanilla. And underneath it all, something that makes my chest tight. Makes my hands sweat on the wheel.

Focus, Gunner. I adjust my grip on the wheel, checking the mirrors. Empty road behind us. Good. Whatever chaos we left at the Omega House hasn't followed us this far.

"How's she doing?" I ask quietly, glancing at Hawk in the passenger seat.

He turns to look back at the others, his grey eyes soft with something I don't see often. "August has her calm. For now."

August has her calm. The words sit wrong in my gut, though I can't figure out why. I don't know this August guy, but he seems good at calming people, making them feel safe. Makes sense why Hawk called for backup from him and his alpha.

But hearing that someone else is taking care of her when every instinct I have is screaming at me to…

To what? I don't even know her. Don't know anything about her except she's Governor Crane's niece and she was about to be hurt by that bastard alpha Hawk put down.

The wind shifts again. Stronger this time.

And I understand.

Holy shit.

The scent hits me like a like a thunderbolt to the chest. Not just honeysuckle and vanilla, but her.

Something so perfectly right it makes my hands shake on the wheel.

Makes my mouth go dry. My alpha hindbrain recognizes it immediately, starts flooding my system with chemicals that make me want to pull over, climb into the back, and wrap myself around her until she feels safe.

Scent match.

The knowledge slams into me so hard I nearly swerve. My foot eases off the gas as my world tilts sideways. Shit. This is real. She's real.

"Gun?" Hawk's voice cuts through the roaring in my ears. "You okay?"

I clear my throat, force my hands steady. Grip the wheel tighter. "Yeah. Just... tired."

Liar. I'm wired, every nerve ending sparking with recognition. Always thought scent matching was bullshit. Something they tell us to keep us in line, make us think there's a chance at something better than dying alone.

Except there's no denying what my body knows. What my scent glands are practically screaming at me.

She's mine.

Ours, my brain corrects, because if I can smell it, so can the others. The guard, the fighter, Hawk. Hell, maybe they already figured it out. Maybe that's why we all moved as a unit without question when we saw her in danger.

Fuck. This complicates everything.

I think about Lily. About my sister's face when those elite bastards cornered her. About how I threw the first punch and ended up in lockup while she disappeared into the system. How I never got to protect her when it mattered.

But this omega—Daisy, Dante called her—she's here. She's safe. And if the universe is giving me a second chance to get it right, I'm not going to fuck it up.

The van feels different now. Charged. Like the air before a storm, heavy with possibility and danger. I can hear her heartbeat from the back, quick and bird-light. Stressed. Makes me want to fix it.

She's been through hell tonight, I remind myself. Whatever you're feeling, she comes first.

"We need to find somewhere to stop," I say, surprised by how rough my voice sounds. "Sun's coming up soon."

Hawk nods, pulling out his phone. "There's a beta town about twenty minutes ahead. Millfield. Small enough that we won't draw attention."

Beta town. Perfect. August can handle the logistics there, rent us a room without questions. Alphas from Crescent City wouldn't think to look for us out here, and we can't exactly walk into a place like that ourselves. They'd ask us to leave the second they scented us.

I take the exit when we reach it, following signs toward the town center.

Millfield is exactly what I expected—small, practical, built for working people who keep their heads down and mind their own business.

The kind of place where strangers are noticed but not bothered, as long as they don't cause trouble.

There's a motor lodge on the main drag, the kind with individual cabins instead of hotel rooms. More privacy. Better escape routes if we need them.

"That one," I say, pulling into the gravel parking lot.

The office has a light on, which means someone's up to handle early check-ins. Probably used to truckers and shift workers who travel odd hours.

"I'll get us set up," August says, already reaching for his wallet. His beta status will make this easy, no questions about pack dynamics or why we're traveling together. Just a guy renting a room for his beta friends.

While he's inside, I study the layout. The cabins are arranged in a U-shape around the parking lot, with the office at the mouth and a small diner next door. Woods on three sides. Good sight lines, multiple exits. If we need to run again, we can.

The back door of the van slides open, and Dante climbs out carefully, staying low and close to the van. His ice-blue eyes meet mine in the mirror, and there's something intense in his expression. Something confused but desperate. He's feeling it too, whatever the hell this is.

He doesn't say anything, just nods. We'll talk later, when there's time.

Cassian emerges next, rolling his shoulders to work out the kinks from sitting cramped in the back. His amber eyes are alert, scanning the area for threats automatically. But when the wind carries Daisy's scent toward him, he goes very still.

Yeah, I think grimly. Welcome to the club.

August returns with a single key, his expression tight. "Only got one room. They were suspicious about cash—had to use my card." He runs a hand through his curls. "We need to talk about this later. If they can track the card..."

The moment he's back in the van, I start the engine and pull us right up to the cabin door.

"How many beds?" Dante asks, already calculating sleeping arrangements.

"Two doubles." August's jaw tightens. "It was all they had."

The arrangement makes tactical sense. Hawk and I can take shifts in the van parked right outside, keep watch. But something in my chest rebels at the idea of being separated from her, even by a few feet of metal and glass.

Get it together, I tell myself. She doesn't even know your name. And you're broke, running, with no plan except keeping her safe.

"We should be good for today and tonight," I hear myself saying. "Get some rest, find cash tomorrow, then move on before anyone thinks to look here."

"Agreed," Dante says quietly. "They'll have to figure out who took her first before they even think to look for us. One day should be safe enough."

Even exhausted and scared, she's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Dark hair falling in waves around her face, eyes wide and uncertain. She's wearing Dante's guard jacket over what looks like a torn nightgown, and she's shaking.

But it's her scent that destroys me. Honeysuckle and vanilla and pure omega, tinged with fear and exhaustion and something that calls to every protective instinct I've ever had.

She looks at all of us standing around the van and takes a step back, pressing herself against the metal.

"It's okay," August says gently, moving toward her slowly. "We're just going to get you somewhere safe to rest."

She nods, but I can see the tension in her shoulders. Too many alphas, too much scent, too overwhelming after everything she's been through.

That's when I make a decision that changes everything.

I step forward, just one step, and hold out my hand to her.

Not demanding. Not expecting. Just... offering.

"Let me help you down," I say quietly.

For a moment, she just stares at my outstretched palm. I can see her weighing options, calculating risks. Everything about her posture screams that she wants to run. That she's terrified.

Smart girl.

But then something shifts in her expression. Maybe it's exhaustion. Maybe it's instinct. Maybe she just recognizes that I'm not trying to take anything from her.

She reaches out. Places her small hand in mine.

The world fucking stops.

Skin contact floods my system with rightness so profound it makes my knees weak. Her scent wraps around me like coming home to a place I've never been. Every alpha instinct I have roars to life.

Protect, claim, keep safe, never let go.

But more than that. More than biology or instinct or whatever the hell scent matching is supposed to be.

She trusts me enough to touch me. After everything—the attack, the chaos, waking up surrounded by strange alphas—she's choosing to let me help her. Her palm is warm, soft, trembling slightly. But she doesn't pull away.

It feels like winning the fucking lottery.

Her fingers are warm and soft against my palm, but I can feel the tremor running through them. She's still scared. Still overwhelmed. But she's letting me be here for her.

"That's it," I murmur, steadying her as she steps down from the van. "I've got you."

She doesn't pull away. Doesn't flinch. Just lets me support her weight as her feet touch solid ground.

For a heartbeat, we stand there connected. Her hand in mine, her scent surrounding me, her trust settling into my chest like a living thing.

Then August appears at her other side, and the moment breaks. But she doesn't let go of my hand immediately. Takes an extra second before releasing me, like she's reluctant to lose the contact.

Fuck.

My palm still burns where she touched it. Still feels her warmth.

"This way," August says gently, guiding her toward the cabin door. "Let's get you somewhere you can rest."