Page 33 of Storm

Jonathan glances at his phone, then away. "I'll deal with Alex later."

"He deserves to know what's happening, Jonathan. This affects him and Fox too."

"I'm aware." His voice softens slightly, the only indication that the mention of his twin still reaches something human in him. "I'll call him soon."

I nod, knowing there's no point pushing further. Jonathan will do what Jonathan wants to do, and the rest of us will either follow or get out of the way. That's how it's always been.

"Get some rest," he says, almost as an afterthought, as he strides down the hallway toward the blue room. "Tomorrow will be a long day."

I return to my armchair, staring out at the city below. Somewhere out there, Rook Holloway is searching for Storm, probably already planning her rescue. And Jonathan is moving pieces on a board I can't fully see.

I down the last of my whiskey, the burn doing nothing to ease the tension coiled in my chest. She's not just an omega—they named her Storm for a reason. A storm front, rolling in to shatter everything we've built. And I have no idea which pieces will be left standing when she's done.

Chapter11

Storm

Four in the morning.Witching hour.The time when the world sleeps its deepest, and guards are at their most vulnerable.

I've been awake all night, lying on the ridiculously comfortable bed in what Jonathan called "my room" before locking me in.Asshole. As if a locked door would keep me contained for long. Please. I was picking locks before I learned to ride a bike.

The blue-gray darkness of pre-dawn filters through the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the luxurious prison I've been thrown into.

The room is bigger than my room back at the Omega House, with sleek furniture, plush carpeting, and an en-suite bathroom with an actual bath. It’s like living in a perfect, beautiful nightmare.

I hate how much I enjoyed that bath.

It’s been three hours since hearing the last footsteps in the hallway, giving them plenty of time to fall asleep. I've spent that time studying my surroundings outside the large windows. I’m not in the city center anymore, That’s for sure. I didn’t think much about the car ride and how long it took. I was trying my best not to rub myself up against Jonathan like a cat in heat.

Either way, I’m gonna find Rook.

The door lock is easy enough to pick with the underwire from my bra, skills you pick up in the foster system. The real challenge will be getting out of the penthouse undetected. I need to use the stairwell. The elevator will make too much sound.

Silently, I ease myself from the bed, already dressed in the clothes from my backpack which I didn’t even think Jonathan remembered to grab—black leggings and a dark t-shirt, not what I would have chosen, but better for sneaking than that gold top and light blue jeans from the ceremony. My bare feet make no sounds against the plush carpet as I approach the door, carefully inserting my makeshift lock pick into the mechanism.

The satisfying click of the lock disengaging sends a surge of triumph through me. Step one, complete. Jonathan Kingsley might think he's all that, but his fancy lock just got beaten by a bra underwire. I snort.

I ease the door open just enough to peer into the darkened hallway. Empty. Perfect.

The layout of the penthouse is still fresh in my mind from when Jonathan dragged me through it earlier—living area to the right, kitchen straight ahead, elevator to the left. The stairwell is my target, my way out of this gilded cage and back to Rook.

Rook.The thought of him sends a pang through my chest. Is he looking for me? Does he know what happened? Of course he does—everyone in Crescent City must know by now. The whole thing was broadcast live. That was the point, after all. Maximum chaos, maximum distraction. If only Jonathan hadn't thrown me over his shoulder like a caveman, I'd be with Rook now, halfway to freedom. Why did I assume he would put me down when we were out of view of cameras?

Focus, Storm. The stairwell first, then Rook.

I slip into the hallway, staying close to the wall where the floor is less likely to make a sound. The penthouse is eerily quiet, the only sound the distant hum of the air vents. I move carefully, one silent step at a time, past what I assume are the other bedrooms, toward the main living area.

The space opens up before me, moonlight streaming through the massive windows to cast everything in silver and shadow. I pause at the edge of the hallway, scanning for movement, for signs of life. Nothing. They must be asleep.

I smirk to myself; probably thought I was your regular old omega. One who wouldn’t know how to pick a lock and escape. I slink toward the stairwell, keeping low, moving from shadow to shadow. This is almost too easy. Like taking candy from an asshole alpha.

"Going somewhere?"

The deep voice from the darkness freezes me on the spot. Reed. Holy fuck.

A lamp flicks on, revealing the stormy-eyed alpha sitting in an armchair by the window, looking like he's been waiting for me. Which, of course, he has.

"Just getting a glass of water," I lie smoothly, straightening as if I haven't just been caught red-handed. "Thirsty." I bat my eyelashes for good measure, laying the innocent omega act on thick.