Page 38 of Storm

So I turn on my heel and march back toward my room, every step radiating defiance. Just before I reach the hallway, I hear the third father speak again.

"You have one week to fix this, Jonathan. Find a suitable beta for your pack, get this omega properly trained, and present a united front to the public. Or we will intervene."

The threat in those words is unmistakable, even to me.

I slam my door shut behind me, my heart racing with indignation and, though I hate to admit it, fear. Jonathan's fathers are a whole different level of dangerous than Jonathan himself. Where he is cold, they are glacial. Where he is controlled, they are merciless.

I pace the room, replaying the confrontation in my mind. Jonathan didn't defend me, but he didn't force my submission, either. Reed warned me to leave rather than letting me dig my own grave deeper. What game are they playing?

The voices outside continue, muffled now but still heavy with tension. I catch snippets—"reputation," "damage control," "the press," "Alexander's absence."

Whatever is happening here is bigger than me and my failed escape plan. I've stumbled into a web of Kingsley family politics and secrets that I don't fully understand.

But one thing is now crystal clear. The stakes are higher than I realized. Jonathan's fathers expect him to "fix" me, to mold me into some perfect Kingsley omega in one week. And if he doesn't...

I sink onto the edge of the bed, my mind racing with this new information.

I need to figure out what leverage I have, what secrets I can use. Alexander's absence is clearly a sensitive point. I didn’t even know Jonathan had a brother. And there's obviously tension about Reed being part of their pack.

And what was that about needing a beta? It’s not a rule that packs have to follow. At least, that’s what they taught us at the Omega House. Betas in packs are there for help during heats and handling the day-to-day needs. They cook, clean, manage the household, and most importantly, they make sure omegas are happy.

But there's another reason why packs don’t want a beta, one rarely discussed openly. It stops the omega from developing inappropriate attachments to their beta. Society pretends this never happens, but everyone knows the truth. Sometimes omegas and betas form deep connections. It's illegal, of course. A beta touching an omega intimately is punishable by death for the beta.

I think of Gage, the beta guard who fell for Harley. Jonathan fired him and I suspect that was a mercy compared to what could have happened. If they ever kissed again, if anyone found out... the penalty would be death.

The thought sends an unexpected pang through me. Frankie's face flashes in my mind—his shy smile, his blush when I teased him, the way his scent of toasted marshmallows and cinnamon would comfort me after the worst days. Did he go to Rook? Did he come for me? God, I hope if he did he at least met up with Rook. And he took care of him. That scene as we left looked rough, and I hate the thought of sweet Frankie being lost in the crowd of angry alphas.

Outside, I hear the elevator. The fathers are gone, but the weight of their visit remains, pressing down on all of me.

A soft knock on my door pulls me from my thoughts. I don't respond, but the door opens anyway. Jonathan stands in the doorway, his expression unreadable, his scent a complex mix of anger, frustration, and something else I can't quite identify.

"We need to talk," he says.

I cross my arms, meeting his gaze directly. "About how I'm supposed to be 'brought to heel?’ Or about how I'm a stain on your precious family name?"

A muscle ticks in his jaw. "About how I know you rigged the draw. And how we're going to survive this without destroying each other."

The words catch me off guard. It's not what I expected him to say. Not even close. But I don’t want to talk about how I rigged the draw. I assume Reed wouldn’t keep that secret.

"I'm listening," I say cautiously.

Jonathan steps fully into the room, closing the door behind him. "My fathers will be watching closely now. They expect certain things… from both of us."

"I don't care what they expect," I reply automatically, though the lie tastes bitter on my tongue. Of course I care. Those men have the power to make my life and Rook's harder than it already is.

"You should," Jonathan says, his voice deadly serious. "Because if they aren't satisfied with how this situation is being handled, they will take control of it themselves. And trust me, Storm, you do not want that. I don’t want that."

There's something in his tone that sends a chill down my spine.

"What does that mean?" I ask, hating the thread of uncertainty in my voice.

Jonathan meets my eyes directly. "It means that if I can't make this work, if I can't present a united front to the public and control the narrative, they will step in. And their methods are... less humane than mine."

The implication hangs in the air between us. I remember the cold way they looked at me, like I was something to be disposed of rather than dealt with.

"So, what do you suggest?" I ask, trying to keep my voice neutral. "That I play the perfect, obedient omega for your fathers' benefit?"

"Yes." Jonathan runs a hand through his hair, a surprisingly human gesture from someone who usually seems carved from ice.