Page 17 of Happy Halloween, Omega

When I reach my apartment building, I hurry inside and close the door behind me. My heart is racing, my breath coming in short gasps. I lean against the door, my eyes closed, and try to calm my breathing. It occurs to me that my short legs were never a match for his long strides. He’d been playing with me, loping along behind as I pushed myself as fast as I could. I huff. Didn’t anyone teach him not to play with his food?

“Are you alright, Celeste?”

My eyes snap open and I see the neighbor from across the hall, an elderly gentleman named Harold. He’s standing in the doorway, his brow furrowed in concern.

“Oh, yes. I’m fine,” I say, trying to smile.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Harold says, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

I release a breathy laugh of tension. “You have no idea.”

My limbs are shaking from exertion as I open my front door and flip on the lights. The moment I enter, I groan. I can smell him. He’s been in my nest again. I wait for the rise of venom, of distaste at the intrusion in my home. It doesn’t come. Instead, there is a pleased warmth that my Alpha has been in my space. Did he see my nest? Did he like it?

Laying on my kitchen counter is a clothing bag, and I unzip it with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. I snort a laugh when I recognize what is inside. It’s a blood red velvet cloak. Little Red Riding Hood. The ultimate prey. The message is clear – he wants me to wear this to the Halloween rave. Three guesses who’ll be the big bad wolf.

As I pull the garment from the bag, a slip of paper flutters to the tiled floor. Spiky handwriting scrawls across it in black ink.

Happy Halloween, Omega.

10

EveryHalloween,Igeta fright.

And I’m done with being scared. I’m not the same girl he scooped off the floor that night. I’m older, wiser, and braver. He might be a ghost, but I can haunt him too.

The first thing I do is fire up my laptop and search for his name. Detective Romulus Fox. His details are easy to find. He’s been the lead detective on many high-profile cases, including mine. His socials are a little more bare-bones, and they don’t give me much information. I find a grainy photo from his time at The Alpha Academy, and a short blurb about the working-class Alpha born to two Betas being selected for the detective track with the police. There is no betrothal announcement or sign of an Omega mate, and my swell of satisfaction is immediate.

He’s older than I am and approaching his thirty-fifth birthday. As far as I can tell, outside of work, he’s the ghost I accuse him of being.

I take the time to consider the state of play. I’ve run out of excuses and can’t keep ignoring my stone-cold reality. I’m an Omega and he is undoubtably my Alpha.

Halloween is in two days, and it looms before me with increasing insistence. He’ll be there and he’ll make good on his threat. Or was it a promise? On Halloween night, he’ll claim me as his.

Truthfully, there is nothing left of my old Beta life. My body has changed and so has my mind.

I examine the lingering emotions I have about the woman who raised me. Referring to her as my mother in my mind feels wrong, and I decide to call her what she is – my kidnapper. I’m not sure why I still hear her voice in my head, reciting her rules like they’re a moral compass. So, I poke at the festering wound that I avoid daily; why do I still let her toxicity affect how I live my life? I examine my emotions like I would solve a mystery. Cooly detached and focused. I follow the breadcrumbs and clues until I finally come to a conclusion.

I’ve been holding onto her because she was the only person who truly knew me. The Omega beneath the Beta. The woman under all the layers of fear she imposed on me. But that’s not true anymore. I’m not hiding and I’m not afraid. I’m out of the shadows.

There is a new reality. I know who I am. And so does someone else.

He knows my story and where the bodies are literally buried. He knows the broken patchwork of my history and isn’t frightened by it. In fact, I think he likes the darkness that surrounds my life.

I have a decision to make.

Do I want my ghost to possess me?

11

EveryHalloween,Igeta fright.

And this year, I can’t wait. Here, Alpha, Alpha. Kitty wants to play.

I don’t fit into my Catwoman costume anymore. It was tailored for my Beta body and I’m sporting some serious Omega curves. So I don the Red Riding Hood costume he left for me, my inner Omega crooning with pleasure at wearing his gift.

I create a sharp cat eye with a steady hand and paint my lips red to match the cloak. I look at myself in the mirror and smile. Seeing myself as an Omega soothes my anxiety. I hadn’t realized how much living in the wrong skin affected me mentally. The daily wear of feeling wrong was like a lead weight tied around my neck. I’m not wearing a mask and I don’t care. I’m not hiding who I am for a moment longer. Every Halloween, I’ve chased a glimpse of freedom. This year, I am free to be me.

The club is already in full swing when I arrive, the baseline thumping through the walls like a heartbeat. There’s a strange concoction of emotions bubbling within me, one part nerves and two parts excited anticipation. I’m not afraid of my ghost. Not anymore.