Page 19 of The Honor of Being Hers (Terms of Devotion #1)

A few days after the end of the heat, and she felt recovered, Lauren had been working in the conservatory with her laptop in front of her, a cup of coffee in her hand, and a slim stack of notes next to her on the polished wooden side table.

She hadn’t been thinking about the pack or anything intimate when a message from Rachel with the single question “Are you okay?” had arrived.

While her body still ached faintly from the week before, it had become a lived-in kind of ache, like a memory her muscles wanted to keep. She’d been content. Distracted. Working. Safe.

When she tapped the link, the browser stuttered for a moment before loading a message board that follows the developments of the research council and shattered her peace.

She stared at the screen, her fingers going cold and numb against the warm ceramic of her mug. The cheerful morning light suddenly felt harsh against her eyes, and her chest began to tighten with each word she read.

A copied block of data had been pasted into the thread.

Her Omega registry ID sat at the top, along with her legal initials, date of birth, and a timestamp from one of the last updates to her private file.

Suppressant medication records. Heat cycle documentation.

A note tagged with her attending cycle physician’s initials: Unscheduled heat onset.

Patient residing with an unmated Alpha pack under OmegaSafe protocols.

Suppressant effectiveness is compromised due to scent exposure. Bond status: incomplete.

Absentmindedly, she put her coffee aside. She tried, but couldn’t make sense of the rest.

The thread title read: Omega Compliance Failure – Internal Query Pending

Shared by: anonymous.leadacct.Omega.gov

Below that: twenty-seven comments, most hidden behind credential locks. A few public. One said, “No surprise she cracked. Look at the names attached.” Another: “Tell me again how the security protocol is safe when a case like this isn’t flagged in time?”

Replies to those comments included, “Right! What a brilliant idea to give a security clearance to an unbonded Omega.”, “Guess that means we better give them access now too, it’s not like they don’t already.”, “They should keep Omegas out of high-clearance issues, what a mess.”

She closed the browser.

The coffee had gone cold beside her. Her hands hadn’t moved.

Everything inside her did.

She picked up her bag and walked, though she wasn’t sure where.

The burn beneath her skin started slowly, her arms first, then her spine, then her chest. Her cashmere sweater felt too tight around her throat, the soft wool suddenly scratching against skin that had become hypersensitive to every texture, every breath of air.

The conservatory’s warm air felt stifling now, pressing against her like a weight.

It felt like a backwards fever, her body rejecting itself.

By the time she reached the front door, she had read the data five times in her head.

Someone had accessed her private medical file.

Not just the physical notes. Everything, even the things she hadn’t known were there.

The suppressant records were bad enough.

However, the detailed documentation of her heat cycle and her responses to the Alphas should have been private medical information between her and her physician.

She’d understood the Alphas were monitoring her condition for her own safety, not that they would be feeding detailed reports into her official medical file.

They had documented her heat cycle, her responses to their proximity, and somehow, all of that private medical information had been turned into a risk assessment and leaked online!

“Lauren?”

Tyler’s voice landed behind her just as she opened the door.

She didn’t turn.

She stepped outside.

“Lauren, wait.”

“I have to go,” she said, her voice cold. “Don’t follow me!”

“You’re not in trouble.”

She scoffed, “Not in the way you’re implying, no. I’m not the one who leaked that information or put half of it into my medical file to begin with, but I am in trouble,” she said. “I just didn’t know it until now.”

The doors closed with a heavy click between them.

She didn’t go far. Just out. Out of the building, across the lot, down the back path behind the wing she’d been staying at. She didn’t run. Her feet stayed steady. Although her lungs couldn’t keep up. Every breath felt shallow, incomplete, like something had clawed deep inside her chest.

The grove near the outer wall offered shade, at least. She was sitting on a low stone ledge half-covered in ivy, the cool granite seeping through her jeans.

Ancient oak trees filtered the harsh sunlight into gentle dapples across the moss-covered ground.

Her hands had stopped shaking, but her skin still hummed with adrenaline, and not because she was aroused, but because she was afraid.

Someone had gone into her Omega registry file. Someone had shared its content.

And it hadn’t been her.

The violation felt physical, like someone had stripped her naked in front of strangers. Her most intimate moments—the way her body had responded to her Alphas, the vulnerability of her heat—reduced to clinical data points for bureaucrats to judge.

Thoughts swarmed around in her brain almost faster than she could process them.

Her private data was leaked online. The only ones who had access to it were she, her doctor, and the Alphas inside the house.

Although she was pissed at the latter for putting that much information into her medical file—couldn’t they have just written it down on paper?

!—she doubted they would have shared the information either.

It didn’t even occur to consider her doctor, if he would have leaked the information he could have done so at any time.

No. Someone was targeting her specifically, using her most private information to discredit her professionally.

The why seemed clear: her research was worth millions, and an unbonded Omega with compromised suppressants would be seen as a security risk.

The only question that remained was who.

A jealous researcher? A company she’d turned down?

Someone from the conference who’d shown too much interest in her ‘medical providers’?