Page 7 of Daisy (Omega Chosen #3)

August

S omething's wrong.

I've felt it all day, this restless energy under my skin that makes it impossible to focus on cataloging the new arrivals or helping Mrs. Taylor find another romance novel with a happy ending. The sensation sits heavy in my chest, like storm clouds gathering before the sky breaks open.

The library is my sanctuary. Has been since I was twelve and discovered that books couldn't hurt you the way people could. But today, even surrounded by the familiar scent of old paper and binding glue, I can't shake the feeling that the world is tilting off its axis.

Outside, the riots continue. Over a week since Choosing Day, when an omega named Storm drew Jonathan Kingsley's name from the lottery—the head of the Omega House claiming one of his own omegas in what everyone knew was a rigged system.

The protests started immediately, beta-born alphas flooding the streets, their rage finally finding a target.

But it's not the distant sound of chanting that has my nerves on edge.

It's something deeper. Something that makes my beta instincts scream that people are in danger.

I shelve another returned book, my hands moving automatically while my mind races. Environmental Science . The Art of War . Pride and Prejudice —the same worn copy that gets checked out every few weeks by betas from the nicer districts. Normal things. Safe things.

They feel like lies today.

The main door chimes, and I look up to see Cassian walking toward me.

Even across the library, I can read the tension in his shoulders, the way his amber eyes scan the room like he's checking for threats.

My chest tightens with worry and something else…

relief that he's here, that I'm not facing this strange unease alone.

"Hey," he says softly when he reaches the circulation desk. His scent wraps around me like a security blanket—dark amber with that underlying note of musk that's purely him. "How's your day been?"

"Restless." I don't bother lying to him. After a year together, Cassian can read my moods better than I can sometimes. Plus, with our bond, there's no point in pretending. He's probably been feeling echoes of my unease all day."Something feels wrong. Has all day."

He nods, understanding immediately. One of the things I love most about him, he never dismisses my instincts, even when I can't explain them logically.

"Riots are getting worse," he says, leaning against my desk. "Passed three groups coming here. They're angry."

I study his face, taking in the slight furrow between his dark brows, the way his jaw is set. "You're worried about something specific."

He glances around the library, making sure we're alone except for Mrs. Taylor, who's lost in her romance novel three aisles away. "Guys at my old gym. Talking about the Omega House. About taking what they think they deserve."

Ice runs down my spine. "What kind of something?"

"The kind that ends badly." His voice drops even lower. " Talk about storming the place. Taking what they believe should be available to all alphas."

The restless energy under my skin suddenly makes perfect sense. My beta senses picking up on danger, on violence building like pressure in a kettle. I set down the book I was holding with hands that aren't quite steady.

"We have to do something," I say.

Cassian's eyebrows rise. "August?—"

"No, listen to me." I stand up, moving around the desk to face him directly. "Those omegas in there, they're trapped. And if angry alphas decide to take justice into their own hands..."

I don't finish the sentence. I don't need to. We both know how that story ends.

Cassian is quiet for a long moment, his amber eyes searching my face. I can see the war happening behind them—the part of him that found peace with me battling against the part that's never been able to ignore someone in need.

"What exactly are you suggesting?" he asks.

"I don't know yet. But we can't just sit here." I reach for his hands. "I know you don't want to go back to that world, Cass. But?—"

"But you're asking me anyway."

"I'm asking you to make sure they’re safe."

The words hang between us in the quiet library air. Mrs. Taylor turns a page somewhere in the romance section. The distant sound of sirens wails past outside.

Cassian sighs, his hands tightening around mine. "You remember how we met?"

I blink at the seemingly random question. "Of course."

It was two in the morning, and I was walking home from the library. Again.

I'd stayed late working on a research project for one of the community college professors, lost in old newspapers and historical documents until the security guard had to told me to go home. The streets were empty except for the occasional taxi or late-night worker heading home.

That's when I heard the footsteps behind me.

At first, I thought it was coincidence. Someone else walking the same direction. But when I turned down my street and the footsteps followed, my heart started racing.

"Hey, beta." The voice was rough, slurred with alcohol. "Where you going in such a hurry?"

I didn't turn around. Didn't engage. Just kept walking, keys ready in my hand like my brother Ryan had taught me before he died.

"I'm talking to you." The footsteps got closer. "You think you're too good to answer?"

That's when a hand grabbed my shoulder.

I spun around, ready to fight despite never having thrown a punch in my life. The alpha was bigger than me, older, with the desperate look of someone who'd had too much to drink and not enough control.

"Let go of me," I said, proud that my voice didn't shake.

"Make me," he sneered, his grip tightening. "Pretty little beta like you, walking alone at night. You're practically asking for ? —"

That's when the shadow appeared.

One moment the alpha was grabbing my shoulder, talking about what I was "asking for." The next moment, he was on the ground, clutching his throat and gasping for air.

Standing over him was the most dangerous-looking man I'd ever seen.

Tall, lean, with dark auburn hair and amber eyes that held all the warmth of winter steel. His knuckles were bloody, his clothes torn, and there was something wild in his expression that should have terrified me.

Instead, I felt safe for the first time all night.

"Walk away," the stranger said to the alpha on the ground. His voice was calm, conversational. "Now."

The alpha scrambled to his feet and ran.

The stranger turned to me, and I got my first good look at his face. High cheekbones, a scar through his left eyebrow, and those amber eyes that seemed to see straight through me.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah." I swallowed hard. "Thank you."

He nodded once, like it was nothing. Like he made a habit of appearing out of nowhere to save strangers from drunk alphas.

That's when I noticed the blood.

It wasn't just on his knuckles. His shirt was torn and stained, and he was favoring his left side like his ribs were hurt.

"You're bleeding," I said.

"It's nothing."

"It's not nothing." I stepped closer, my instincts overriding my fear. "You're hurt. Let me ? —"

"I'm fine." But his voice was tight with pain, and when he tried to walk away, he stumbled slightly.

"No, you're not." I caught his arm. "Come on. I live two blocks from here. Let me clean those cuts."

For a moment, I thought he'd refuse. Pull away and disappear back into whatever darkness had produced him. But then he looked at me with those impossible amber eyes, and something shifted.

"Okay," he said quietly.

My apartment was small, cramped, filled with books and not much else. But it was clean and safe, and I had a first aid kit under the bathroom sink thanks to years of paranoia after Ryan died.

The stranger—Cassian, he told me when I asked—sat on my couch and let me clean the cuts on his knuckles and check his ribs for breaks. He didn't talk much, just watched me work with an intensity that should have been uncomfortable.

"What happened to you?" I asked as I bandaged a particularly deep cut.

"Fight," he said simply.

"Over what?"

He was quiet for so long I thought he wouldn't answer. "Money. Food. Place to sleep tonight."

My heart clenched. "You don't have anywhere to go?"

"I'll figure something out." He started to stand. "Thanks for patching me up."

"Wait." The word came out before I could stop it. "You could... you could stay here. Tonight. Just until morning."

Cassian stared at me like I'd offered him the moon. "You don't know me."

"I know you saved me from that alpha. I know you're hurt and have nowhere to sleep." I met his eyes. "That's enough."

He stayed. Slept on my couch, was gone before I woke up the next morning. I thought that was the end of it.

But the next night, when I left the library, he was there. Waiting across the street like a shadow given form.

"What are you doing here?" I called.

"Making sure you get home safe," he called back.

"I made it home safely for twenty-three years before last night."

"Yeah, well." He fell into step beside me. "World's getting more dangerous."

He walked me home. Didn't come up. Just made sure I got inside safely and then melted back into the darkness.

The next night, he was there again.

And the night after that.

It took me a week to work up the courage to ask him inside again.

Another week before he told me about the underground fighting, about being bounced between foster homes after his father went feral and killed his mother.

About having nothing and no one and surviving on violence and stubbornness alone.

It took a month before he kissed me.

Three months before he bit me.

Six months before I understood that the pull I felt toward him. The way I could sense his moods, feel his pain like an echo in my chest wasn't just attraction. It was the bond settling into place, creating a connection deeper than either of us had expected.

A year before he stopped expecting me to throw him out.

"I remember," I say softly, my hands still wrapped in his. "You saved me."

"No." Cassian's voice is rough with emotion. "You saved me. Gave me a reason to stop fighting for money. Start fighting for something that mattered."

"And now I'm asking you to fight again," I say.

"Asking me to protect people who need protecting." He brings our joined hands to his lips, presses a gentle kiss to my knuckles. "That's different."

I search his face, seeing the resolve building behind his amber eyes. "You'll do it?"

"We'll do it," he corrects. "Together. Like everything else."

Relief floods through me so intense it makes my knees weak. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet," he says, but there's a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "We don't even know what we're walking into."

Mrs. Taylor chooses that moment to approach the desk with her stack of romance novels, her eyes twinkling as she takes in our proximity. "Don't mind me, boys. Just checking these out."

I flush slightly but don't step away from Cassian as I process her books. She's been coming to this library for years, watched our relationship develop from wary friendship to whatever we are now. She's never once made either of us feel like we were anything but normal.

"Enjoy your books, Mrs. Taylor," I say, handing her the receipt.

"Oh, I will. These alpha heroes are much better behaved than the real ones." She winks at Cassian, who actually cracks a smile. "You boys stay safe out there. The city's gone a bit mad lately."

"We will," Cassian promises.

After she leaves, I finish my closing routine quickly, my hands moving through familiar motions while my mind races ahead to what we're about to do. Lock the cash drawer, turn off the computers, set the security system. Normal end-of-day tasks that feel surreal given what we're planning.

"Ready?" Cassian asks when I've gathered my things.

"Ready," I say, though I'm not sure anyone could be ready for what I think is coming.

We step out into the evening air, and immediately I can smell it. Smoke and anger and something sharper underneath. The city feels like a pressure cooker about to explode.

But as Cassian's hand finds mine, warm and strong and completely steady, I know we're doing the right thing. My instincts have never led me wrong before.

I just hope they're not leading us into something we can't handle.