Page 50 of Omega Forged (Hartlock Omegas #2)

Tully

One month later

“Honey, I’m home.” I waved at Thorn as he tried to close the door to Clay’s apartment. The scent of fresh cinnamon buns wafted out.

“You have your own apartment. One I helped you organize, if I’m not mistaken.”

After the confrontation at the gala and the hospital, I traveled to the first place I could think of.

Where I knew Baylark Pack would never look for me.

They hadn’t helped me when I was homeless before, but this time they did.

Especially after I was honest about everything I’d been going through.

I hadn’t intended to still be here a month later.

But I’d found a strange rhythm in The Barracks, it turned out that heartbreak really got my creative juices going, and I had a burst of inspiration for a film project. I never realized how much I let fear put my life on hold until now.

I ignored the buzz of my phone in my pocket. Knowing it was another message from Baylark Pack, begging me to reconsider. I didn’t want to have the same conversation with them. The one I’d repeated on a loop for the past month. There were more important things to focus on than broken hearts.

I deserved a medal for my growth.

“No, no, and ahh—” Thorn shot me a glare. “No. I’m at capacity for social visits.”

“Last I checked, this was my apartment and we already have guests. You better let her in.” Clay laughed from inside. “She might get you with those nails, Thorn.”

I flashed my impeccable manicure in his direction with a wink. Pastel pink. Thorn swung the door open with a beleaguered expression.

“Thank you.” I pressed my hands together.

I couldn’t do anything about the hook in my soul, apart from pushing it down until it became like a stone in my shoe. Rubbing, rubbing, rubbing at my insides. Baylark Pack and everything that happened flitted at the edges of my vision as Thorn ushered me in.

“You need to get some friends, lamb.”

“Isn’t that what we are?” I said.

There were four people playing cards at Clay’s dining table.

A trio of elderly Designated, two men and one woman, pressed in next to Clay.

Thorn walked behind Clay and gripped his wiry shoulders.

His thumbs slipped under Clay’s tank top and the man’s eyes fluttered closed.

I hovered in the doorway until Clay snorted.

“You wanna play a game?”

I wanted a lobotomy so I would stop missing Baylark Pack. But at Clay’s lopsided smile, I put aside the morose train of my thoughts.

It was a spacious room, with rugs overlapping on the floor.

There were lights strung on the ceiling and in the corner of the room, a cozy bed.

My gaze sharpened on Clay. The way he leaned back into Thorn.

Thorn wasn’t a man of many words, but he said a lot with his commanding touch. Clay tossed his cards on the table.

“This is Tully Hartlock.” Thorn introduced me to the trio.

I’d never seen them before, but Clay was a social butterfly who collected people with a flash of his smile.

“An omega for your pack?” The older lady pushed up her crooked glasses. Her white hair was pulled into a bun, she had a bold red lip. The other two men looked between us with a smile.

“Oh, young love, remember when we looked like that?” One man said, laying his cards down with care. He was all limbs like a spindly tree. They had no scent, and it was hard to know what Designation they were because of it.

That wasn’t uncommon in The Barracks, it was safer to hide your scent.

“I know your memory is going if you remember looking like these three,” The other man exclaimed, before thumping his fist over his barrel chest. “Me, on the other hand, that’s some classic good looks for the ages.”

He gave me an indulgent wink and a flush sprang into my cheeks. His forehead had deep grooves, but there was an innate strength in his aging body.

“I don’t need an omega.” Thorn brushed a hard kiss on Clay’s head, as his gaze dropped to the table. “Tully is just… a friend.”

Clay winked as I let out a hum of pleasure.

“I knew I’d win you over.”

“Don’t get a big head. You twisted my arm hard enough.”

The idea that I could bully Thorn into anything was laughable. But the warmth in my chest distracted from the jagged scars on my heart. My phone buzzed again. Clay reached out and tousled my hair.

Clay and Thorn were childhood friends turned lovers, something I’d learned since I moved in down the hall.

Thorn used the down payment I gave him on my fake ID and put it toward an apartment.

Both he and Clay had been like tattooed guardian angels since I found out Baylark Pack lied to me.

I think they wanted to make up for leaving me hanging when Fenella threw me out.

Thorn turned on his heel and wandered back to the cramped kitchenette, pulling down a few mugs. Under the cozy light of Clay’s home, he lost some of his savage edge.

“How is your project going? A little birdie told me you got Lockjaw talking.” Clay collected the cards and arched an eyebrow at the older Designated. “Tully here is a budding filmmaker. Remember her face, she’s going places.”

I’d been listless when I first came to The Barracks.

Until Clay collected me from my bed and insisted on walking me around the maze of tunnels, including where my dad grew up.

My fingers itched to pick up my camera for the first time in years.

I had this wild idea to use some of my footage from my previous volunteer work in The Barracks with my parents and revisit the locations.

To interview the people who lived here and show how much, or how little, had changed since the HLA attacked.

“Puck was acting like he’d never spoken a word.” I laughed.

“He hasn’t.” Thorn thumped a cup in front of me. “Not since the HLA took his pack as hostages.”

“Oh.”

“A Hartlock omega? I haven’t seen one of those in an age,” the older lady interrupted, and her eyes glowed with something I couldn’t quite place.

A smile flickered on the edges of her lips. I refrained from pointing out that it would have been impossible for her to know a Hartlock omega, because she wouldn’t have been alive.

The man with the barrel chest clapped his hands on the table. “You’re the one we’ve been hearing whispers about.”

My shoulders rose around my ears.

“What was that?” The tall man cupped his hand around his ear, but the older lady whacked his shoulder with a quelling glare.

“Shhh, don’t embarrass the poor girl. It’s not her fault you’ve got a millennium’s worth of wax in those ears.”

I smothered a smile as Thorn shook his head at Clay. “I put up with these people because I love you. I hope you know that.”

The older lady’s eyes sharpened like a shard of glass. She waved Thorn off with the flick of her wrist and a pinched, wrinkled mouth. I admired her strength of presence.

“One moment, your holy alphaness. Can’t leave until I say something first. Feels like I’ve been waiting for years.” She turned her gaze on me.

It rolled through my limbs, found all my weak spots, and pressed on them. A lifetime of regret and shame touched the side of my throat. Tasted bitter. Faded.

“I have a good sense about Designated, dearie. You know, so many priceless things, like diamonds, like marble, have to go through years of rough pressure and heat. They endure and are rewarded with strength and beauty. Anything worth having is forged, and that goes for us, too.”

“Does that explain why you’re bent over? The years did a number on your back.” The thin older man’s gaze twinkled.

“Careful, she might be small, but she’s fierce,” Clay joked, his lips cracked into a wide smile.

“That’s right. Never underestimate how much damage a five-foot omega can do.”

She was an omega? The way she looked at me had some of her strength threading through my limbs.

“A good reminder,” I whispered.

“Take it to heart, you hear me?” The older lady pursed her lips again.

I’d spoken to so many Designated over the last month and every conversation taught me something. But the best lesson was one that Baylark Pack had started. I might be an omega, but I was capable on my own. And there was something cathartic about tracing your roots back to the source.

“The road might be long, but it’s worth the reward.” The tall older man squeezed his omega’s shoulder.

Thorn clicked his tongue. “Great. You’ve sprinkled enough empty platitudes on this pain in the ass omega for today. Now you can go.”

“See you soon, Clay,” the lady said, blowing him a kiss.

Thorn marched the trio to the door, uncaring of their stooped backs and stilted steps. When they were gone, he slumped into one of the empty chairs. Thorn and Clay’s scents were strong here, like knotted cord. But scents didn’t affect me much now. Not since I’d lived with Baylark Pack.

Despite everything, I craved the discordant clash of their scents. So wrong, it was right.

“Are you going to interview your big, fancy pack?” Thorn took a sip of his drink.

“My project has nothing to do with them.” I frowned.

“You sure?”

His pointed words forced my soft underbelly over to the sun, into the light. I didn’t want to think about Baylark Pack. Even though they were underneath my skin, etched into my bones.

They wanted the Hartlock, not Tully.

I needed to be more than my name.

More than a tick on a guest list for some other pack to wield.

A sour thought crossed my mind, and I shook it off.

I hated thinking about when I saw Chase and he destroyed my world a second time.

Lingering fury crackling deep in my stomach.

It faded after seeing Walden laid low in the hospital bed, but hadn’t disappeared entirely.

“You can’t stay here forever, Tully.” Thorn scrubbed his hand down his face.

“I’ll leave in a minute, promise.” I was being deliberately obtuse.

He meant The Barracks. But thinking any further than thirty minutes into the future made my stomach cramp.