Forget : A Dark Omegaverse (Unhingedverse)

Two weeks later

I don’t know how to speak to Aisling, so I’ve been leaving her little gifts where I know she’ll find them. I feel so inept, as apologies aren’t something I do well verbally. I’m sure she thinks someone else is giving them to her.

An orchid next to her breakfast, a new book with her favorite snack, or the phone number to a resource for her with an appointment time.

I’ve been stalking her for over a year, trying to get to know everything about her. I’m not blind, I can see how busy Aisling is, how driven.

“Aiden, you’re with Aisling today,” Caelin grunts absently from his computer in the kitchen. He’s just about finished with the website for Aisling and Wren, and has had at least two meetings with them as he’s built it.

Nerves fill my body with the idea of being with the pissed off omega, but I force myself to appear as if I’m fine with it.

“Let me clear that with the boss,” I sigh.

“Cian said that if you show up at his house today, he’s putting a bullet in your brain,” Caelin rumbles. “Evan is going to drive him today.”

Yeah, that tracks. I have a black eye at the moment from my last interaction with the boss, and Aisling still hasn’t spoken to her father. He’s losing his mind and doesn’t handle the silent treatment very well.

“I guess I’m with Aisling then,” I mutter, ignoring Caelin’s dark chuckle.

“She’s been noticing the gifts, but it’s not enough. You know that, right?” he asks.

“Yeah. I’ll try talking to her today,” I tell him.

“Good luck with that,” Domh says, tired as he walks toward the coffee maker. “She’s really good at stonewalling people. Did anyone notice she hasn’t had a therapy appointment yet?”

“She canceled the last two,” Caelin says. “I’m watching her calendar again because she’s not speaking to anyone. I’m not very patient.”

Smirking, I nod, because he’s really not.

“Should we worry that she’s ignoring everyone, including her therapist?” Evan asks sleepily, following on Domh’s heels. None of us are sleeping well lately.

“Fuck, I’m worried,” I admit. “It’s like someone’s cut her strings, and when no one’s watching she’s a shell.”

“I watched her at work when I was helping at the outreach, and she was smiling and happy, despite the redness in her eyes. She’s crashing and crying while alone. I fucking hate that she won’t let anyone in,” Domh says.

“She’s letting Pack Mohan in,” Caelin says, scowling. He doesn’t like how comfortable the alphas are with her. “One of them has been at our meetings, glaring at me the entire time.”

“She needs an outlet,” I admit. “Aisling is ignoring her father, therapist, and us. I’m glad she’s talking to her best friend.”

Inside, I’m jealous as fuck, but I won’t say that. I also mean every word. Aisling needs to talk to someone because she’s not the same person that I know. Even when I thought she was struggling, this is so much worse.

Aisling walks into the kitchen fully dressed, wearing an all black pantsuit with a bright blue coat. Black heeled boots finish her outfit, and I find myself staring, because I don’t often see her wearing pants.

“You’re up and ready early,” Evan observes, making himself a breakfast sandwich before going to work for the boss.

“Busy day,” she mutters. “Who’s my keeper today? I have to get going.”

“That would be me,” I tell her, straightening. I’m fully dressed in a gray sweater and black chinos tucked into combat boots, because I expected to go to the boss’ house.

“Awesome,” she sighs, turning away.

“It’s ten degrees out there, Sugar. You’re not walking anywhere today,” Domh says, eyes narrowing. He hasn’t gotten ready for the day yet, his tattoos proudly showing as he stands only in his joggers.

Aisling glances over her shoulder with a curled lip, something I’ve not seen from her before. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her look petulant.

“I’ve survived this long without a daddy, I think I can manage, Daddy Domhnall,” Aisling says, rolling her eyes.

My brow raises at her tone, realizing she’s definitely not talking about the boss.

Domh’s hand fists as he gives her a cool smile. “You haven’t seen anything yet, little omega. Please, continue pushing me, so I have a reason to spank, gag, and fuck your ass so hard you’ll think of me every time you sit down. Don’t begin games you don’t understand.”

“All I hear is a lot of talking,” Aisling snarks. “Hayes, I’m ready to go.”

The way she says my name rankles me, as if I’m a servant. Growling, I stalk toward her, while she pretends not to see the danger and gives me her back as she walks away.

“Little poppet is headed toward a mess of trouble,” Caelin says, mildly amused as he goes back to tapping on his computer.

“I think Domh has the right idea,” I mutter, following Aisling. “Hey, Princess! Go through the garage. It’s too cold to go around.”

Blowing out a breath, Aisling pulls the hood of her coat over her head as she picks up her purse and a duffle bag.

“What’s in the bag?” I ask her as I put on my coat, beanie, and leather gloves.

“Stuff,” she says, shrugging.

“God. You’re being insufferable right now,” I grunt.

“I don’t want to have to explain my every move to you people,” Aisling growls through gritted teeth. It’s adorable that she thinks she may be scary. “I have a meeting with the Whalen Society this morning, a bunch of errands, and then later I’m the guinea pig for a self defense class with Gabriel and need clothes I can easily move in. Happy?”

“Not even a little bit,” I tell her. “Why are you the guinea pig and what does that mean? You have a pack.”

“No I don’t,” she says, and my eyelid begins to twitch as I shove the door leading out to the garage open. “Paperwork doesn’t mean fuck all to me when I didn’t sign it.”

Domh filed the paperwork weeks ago, intent to end the charade of internet dating. Aisling Sullivan is ours, even if she is pissed at us all.

Aisling heads to the SUV as I open the door, walking to the passenger side. I know Domh opens her doors, but I doubt she’ll appreciate it if I do the same. I’m on edge, struggling between anger and arousal.

The tip of my dick is already dripping with pre-cum, and all I can smell is sugar cookies that have been in the oven a touch too long.

Arguing with Aisling Sullivan is like foreplay to me. I should be trying to fix things instead of pushing her to flip out at me. I can’t fucking help myself. It’s like catnip to me. Climbing into the vehicle, I turn it on to get the warm air circulating.

It’s colder than a fucking witch’s tit outside. Pushing the clicker to get the sliding garage door to open, I glance at Aisling. Her bags are dropped on the ground, her eyes on her phone as she answers messages. I don’t know how much is real work and how much is an attempt to ignore me.

Pulling out to the driveway, I begin the drive out to the main road, intent on getting our day going.

“Where am I headed, Aisling?” I ask.

“This is the address,” she replies, turning the phone to show me the email with the address.

It’s a tea room that Evan’s mom really likes, and a neutral place for her to conduct business. Nodding, I begin the drive to Whalan, which is funnily enough where some of Evan’s family lives.

Not everyone enjoys living in a big city, and Whalan is a pretty, small town on the river.

The drive is spent in silence while Aisling plugs her phone in and works the entire time. She takes three calls as well, and I listen to her end of the conversation, feeling as if I’m getting a glimpse into her world.

“The food delivery wasn’t right?” Aisling asks, nose wrinkling as she takes her last call. “No. You’re kidding! I’ve never had any trouble with rotten food before. Let me call the delivery service.”

My brow furrows as I listen to her call the service, but they don’t want to budge. Round and round they go, but I can’t hear their side of the conversation.

“Phone,” I grunt, holding my hand out.

“Hayes, it’s not going to help,” she sighs, though she drops it into my palm.

“This is Aiden Hayes,” I bark, holding the phone to my ear. “The omega you’re attempting to fuck over without lube is Cian Sullivan’s daughter, are you aware of that?”

“I’m sorry, what?” the man asks, shocked. “I don’t want any trouble. I swear I don’t know about any rotten produce.”

“Great,” I say amicably. “Replace what you all fucked up, and credit her account. Aisling and Wren run an important organization. The last thing they need is for people to get sick. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Aisling looks mad as she looks down at her lap. I can tell by the way her fingers twist around each other that she’s frustrated. I would be as well if I had to deal with this bullshit. She’s more polite than I am, refusing to pull on her father’s name.

“Yes, Sir. I… swear I’ll make this right. I’ll bring her a new delivery myself,” the man says.

“Apologize to the lady,” I say, handing the phone back to Aisling.

She’s quiet for a moment as she listens, taking a deep breath as she nods.

“Thank you,” she says. “You don’t need to double our order, but I appreciate the⁠—”

Stopping, Aisling listens to the man as I guess he interrupts her.

“Yes, that’s fine. Thank you,” she says, tired as she hangs up. Dropping her head back, she glances over at me. “I don’t typically like to use my father in order to get my way.”

“I can understand that, but short of threatening him with another action that would take twice as long to resolve things, this works faster,” I tell her unapologetically as I pull into a parking spot.

The drive ended faster than I was ready for now that she’s actually speaking to me.

“I guess,” she murmurs, sending out a text message to someone else. “Well, that’s one disaster averted. Let’s see how many more this Monday morning will bring me.”

“A bit pessimistic aren’t we, Princess?” I ask, turning off the car.

“When you’re the point person for things, you hear more bad than good,” she says with a shrug.

“Isn’t Wren your partner?” I ask, genuinely curious.

“Yes, but she doesn’t leave her house very often,” Aisling explains. “Her office is there. She handles everything remotely that she possibly can, otherwise I’d be drowning.”

“That’s the agreement you two came up with?” I ask.

“Yep,” Aisling grunts, pushing open the door. Well, I guess that conversation is over.

I hate that she has so much on her shoulders, and she hasn’t thought of a way to shift the weight. As this organization continues to get bigger, I can’t imagine how much harder it’ll be for her to be able to do it all.

Jumping out of the vehicle, I slam the door closed as I lock it and follow Aisling to the tea room. There are a few cars in the lot, and I recognize quite a few of them.

Please pretend not to know me…

Some of these women have known me since I was in diapers. Evan’s mother’s face lights up as she sees me, but I shake my head with my eyes open wide to dissuade her from greeting me, because I’m worried that Aisling will refuse to speak to them otherwise.

Her lips thin in displeasure before she glances at Aisling.

My own mother ignores me completely, knowing the score as she comes up and introduces herself to Aisling. The door opens again, allowing Wren and Shaw entry. Wren strides in as if she owns the place, linking arms with Aisling. It’s clear that they’re a united force, making me wonder why she’s acting like this.Content held by NôvelDrama.Org.

“Good morning, ladies. I have to say we were a little surprised when you all decided to reach out about volunteering opportunities. We appreciate the invitation to come to speak to you, we really do,” Wren says, looking out at the faces of alphas, omega, and betas in the room.

“You’ll understand we have certain concerns about your interest, though?”

“We serve the community in any way we can,” Mom says with a shrug. “Alpha, beta, omega, it doesn’t matter. I’ve been friends with many of these women for years, and my aunt started bringing me to these get-togethers when I was twelve. We aren’t here to change how you do things, unlike other organizations. That is where our interests lie.”

“I didn’t think about how you would perceive our invitation, or how other organizations would overshadow it,” Evan’s mom murmurs. “Who have you spoken to?”

“I’ve been pushing off a meeting with the Regional Omegas’ Women’s Society,” Aisling sighs. “They’ve been blowing up our emails with condescending messages about how two young omegas can’t possibly juggle everything that we do.”

I snort in derision before I can hold myself back. At her and Wren’s raised brows, I internally curse.

“You run around doing nothing but serving the omega community,” I tell them. “Meetings to update current agreements, entering new agreements to open the doors for new resources, time spent at the outreach and shelter to speak with the women there. I don’t know how you manage it, but I do know you do it with grace, Aisling.”

Wren nods. “I feel bad sometimes that I don’t drive and feel anxious regularly leaving the house,” she says. “I do as much behind the scenes things as possible, but my pack doesn’t like for me to leave without a guard.”

“You’ve been through too much to risk being kidnapped,” Shaw growls, his arms crossed over his chest. “Hell, I worry about Aisling traipsing all over Minneapolis and getting in alphas’ faces about shit she needs. I’m just glad she asks for my presence when she thinks she needs backup.”

“Goodness, I hope that we’re not that scary,” Sue mutters.

“The Regional Women’s group is,” Aisling sighs, glancing at me. “I just had a problem with a grocery order. I’m worried that it’s the beginning of spoiled food and people refusing to work with us. I texted Wren about it on our way over, so she’s a bit keyed up.”

“They wouldn’t dare,” Rebecca growls. As an omega, she scares the hell out of me. I’ve been smacked over the head enough times with a spoon by most of the women in this room to hold them all in high esteem.

“I know that Emilia hates not being in charge of things, but that’s devious even for her.”

“I don’t know,” Wren says, shaking her head. “You haven’t seen the communication between us. Emilia Richardson insists that we will fail without her ‘gentle’ guidance. We aren’t grooming the people we help to act in a certain way. It’s clear she thinks omegas should all be demure and packed up immediately.”

“I’m perfectly capable of making decisions without an alpha telling me what to do,” Aisling says. “I make a schedule every morning, have people depend on me, and don’t need to report to someone.”

Shoving my hands in my pockets, I think about her words. We have been heavy handed with Aisling while she’s been icing us out. Domh got yelled at because he was dogging her steps and peppering her with questions, but if I really allow myself to take a step back, she’s not used to having to answer to anyone.

If I’m being honest, she shouldn’t have to unless she wants to. Aisling is one of the most independent people that I’ve ever met, because she’s had to be. Her mom dying when she was a teen forced her to grow up quickly in order to survive. Our need to get her to talk to us by asking a million questions is driving her up a wall.

“Due to this, we don’t know who to open up our organization to,” Wren says softly. “It’s easier to be suspicious of everyone than to choose badly and have the people who depend on us suffer.”

“Now you sound like me,” Shaw rumbles. “My apologies as it seems as if I’m rubbing off on both of them.”

Mom smirks, but glances at me in concern. I’ll have to explain to her how close Aisling is with Pack Mohan. It’s not a sexual thing in the least. I can finally come to terms with that, even though I wish she would lean on one of us instead.

“Well why don’t we sit down and talk?” she asks. “I can reassure you that we aren’t like that. Every month, we donate to an organization. Sometimes it’s a donation of money, other times it’s our time or influence. The latter may be better if Emilia is being a cunt.”

Aisling holds back a laugh at my mom’s words while I smirk. Mom hasn’t ever held back where it counts. There’s about a fourth of the society here, and all people who have been around for a while.

These are women who really do dedicate their lives to doing good, and there are so many walks of life within the fifteen people in this room.

“With that kind of invitation, I’m hard pressed to say no,” Aisling teases. “I also skipped breakfast because I was running a bit late.”

I hold back an eye roll as I move to stand against the wall, and Shaw joins me as everyone sits down.

“Still fucking up, I see,” he murmurs, his eyes on the girls. “I bet she’ll be living with us by the end of the winter at this rate. There’s a she shed that she’s more than welcome to move into.”

“Absolutely not,” I hiss. “Why the fuck do you have a she shed anyway?”

“My pack fucked up when we first met Wren,” he says. “We bent over backwards the best we could to get Wren to forgive us. Now, we spend every day telling our omegas how much they mean to us. Shit happens, you can’t depend on biology to fix it.”

I have to admit that he’s right. Nothing any of us do is enough. Her life is busy, and she uses it as a barrier between us. I can’t very well kidnap her from the city, because so many people depend on her, but I can help her forgive other people in the meantime.

I can wait my turn, find ways to tell her I’m sorry, that don’t depend on words, because I’ll just make it worse otherwise. I just manage to trip over them when I’m with her.

“How did you get the delivery service to bring you new food?” Rebecca asks as tea service is served.

Aisling wrinkles her nose as she explains. “My father is Cian Sullivan, though I don’t usually tell people that when I’m working with them,” she says. “Tricut Delivery Services repeatedly told me that the food was fine and they wouldn’t redeliver. However, the milk smelled, the produce was bruised and overripe, and the meat putrid. I thought that the delivery service wasn’t being scheduled because my house manager has been ill. Come to find out, they were ignoring the delivery orders.”

That explains the grocery trips.

“Does your father not want you to use his influence?” Mom asks.

“No,” Aisling says. “I’m sure he wouldn’t care or would help if I asked, but I like to do things for myself.”

“We all need help sometimes,” Mom says sagely. “Tell us about Omega’s Haven. What do you want for it?”

“We want a place where people, omegas especially, can feel safe,” Wren says softly. “The stories we hear are horrifying. I lead a weekly group with Aisling at Omega’s Haven, and we hear so many people tell us about how they’re fired for going through their heat and having to call out, or how they’re kidnapped off the street and forced to pack up with alphas who hurt them. Every omega has a different story, but they’re all important to what we do.”

“I lived on the streets when I was sixteen,” Aisling says. “My mom died and I had to do some pretty fucked up things to hide that she was dead, while I got a second job. I quit school, though I got a GED later, and didn’t know who my father was. Essentially, the shelters weren’t an option because I was a minor. They also don’t take omegas typically because they’re ’troublemakers’.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Mom mutters. “Omegas aren’t any more troublesome than any other designation. So where did you sleep?”

“I scaled the wall at a park and spent my nights there,” Aisling says with a shrug, ignoring the panicked looks of the women in the room. They’re all mothers, and their hearts have to be hurting for her.

“I’m not used to asking for help because I’m used to figuring it out. I want to be able to offer resources for omega’s heats, shelter, outreach for lawyer advice, help fill out the paperwork for protective orders at the court, job interview rehearsal, therapy sessions with an incredible therapist, and so much more. Granted, we are only starting in one city…”

“But maybe it’ll catch on,” Wren finishes. “We’re also working with an occupational technician who helps people find jobs. My number one gripe with aptitude tests was that they didn’t help me to find what I’m good at. My brain works differently, as do most omegas.”

“I didn’t think about that,” Sue says, frowning. “My husband is an omega, but he needs to have things set a certain way. Dale cleans the house because it’s done how he wants, and the curtains all have to be open at the same place. I just thought that was Dale.”

“It’s an omega thing,” Aisling chuckles. “It affects me to be around a lot of alphas at once when working because it feels like I’m high. It’s hard to focus, so when I was a bartender, I used alpha pheromone blocker gel. I swear, sometimes they’d do it just to set me off, and it was embarrassing for me.”

“Alphas can be dicks,” Rebecca says with a smirk. Rebecca and Sue are distantly related, and Sue just rolls her eyes.

Shaw just huffs out a laugh under his breath, watching as they chat and eat. They manage to cover a lot of ground, and the Society’s members look really impressed.

“Do you have anyone who teaches knitting yet?” Mom asks, biting her lip.

“We started a group for those who already knit, but they’re definitely established,” Wren says. “I just started knitting and it’s really helpful for anxiety. It helps me focus, and the end result is so satisfying.”

“It would be nice for people to take something with them after their stay with us too,” Aisling says, wheels turning as she nods.

“Then that’s what we would like to do,” Mom says with a smile. “I know that alphas can be difficult for some of your omegas to be around…”

“I’m finding that if I warn them, it’s easier for them to handle,” Aisling says. “It also may be a little different for a female alpha to come into the outreach area than a male.”

“We could have a ‘learning how to knit’ class biweekly,” Wren muses. “Introduce the idea to the residents and then see what they think. You may find more people attending as time goes on.”

“The warehouse portion of the building would also be the easiest to set up a comfortable space,” Aisling agrees. “Yes, I think that could work.”

My lips twitch as they hammer out logistics before saying goodbye. Wren, Shaw, Aisling, and I walk out together to the parking lot, and Shaw glances at her.

“The she shed is yours if you ever decide you need some space,” Shaw says. “We were talking about it the other day, and I know you’ll need to have your own⁠—”

“That’s Wren’s ‘I’m sorry we’re dickheads’ gift,” Aisling says with a smile. “I can’t move in there. Maybe I’ll find a place in Minneapolis.”

“Over my dead body,” I growl, though they all ignore me.

“You’ll be too far away then,” Wren says with a pout. “We have to be able to figure something out.” Turning to me, she points at me, annoyed. “You’re fucking with my time, asshole. Your pack is fucking up left, right, and center. ”

Jaw dropping, I look between them. Aisling looks amused, while Wren is practically snarling at me.

“We’re working on it,” I grumble. There’s something about being dressed down by this usually quiet, brown haired omega that’s unsettling.

“She’s like a sniper, man,” Shaw says as Wren turns to give Aisling a hug. “Wren attacks when you’re least expecting it. She’s tired of seeing her best friend sad, and frankly, I have to agree that it’s getting old.”

Blowing out a breath, I nod, following her to the SUV. I’m terrible at grand gestures, since I’m so used to working in the shadows. I have a lot to think about.

Aisling

I’m getting on Aiden’s last nerve and I don’t even care. I’ve made half a dozen stops today, and I’m finally getting food. I was in such a hurry, I forgot to pack a lunch, but if I’m honest with myself, that’s what happens often.

The finger sandwiches and mini croissants from this morning are long gone from my stomach, and I’m starving.

“There’s a diner off twelfth street,” I tell him, rubbing my stomach as it complains at me. Domh would have been yelling at me already, but Aiden merely gazes stoically out the windshield. “Can we stop there?”

“Dining in or taking out?” he asks, bored. Okay, so he may be getting on my last nerve.

“Since you probably want to eat, we’ll go in, Hayes,” I say, annoyed.

“So nice of you to think of me, Princess,” he drawls. “If you’re hungry, you can go inside and eat by yourself like a big girl.”

I have my knife back, but force myself to breathe. I need to stop poking holes in people who piss me off.

Am I the problem? Do I have anger management problems?

Rolling my eyes as he pulls up to the corner, I hop out, glad I have cash and my debit card on me. Walking past the diner, I walk down to a sandwich shop to eat there. If I’m eating alone, I don’t want to do it at a diner.

Holding back a happy moan as I take a bite of my turkey, bacon, avocado and tomato sandwich, my lashes flutter as I chew. I need to flirt more with food. I know I don’t eat enough, and sometimes it’s because I’m simply not hungry.

Depression is a bitch.

As if I summoned her, Dr. Alys’ number flashes across the screen. Sighing, I take a sip of water to wash down my food. Wren has been fielding most of her calls because I’ve been avoiding her. I guess the respite is over.

“Hello,” I say, answering the phone.

“There you are,” Dr. Alys says. “I swear, I’ve missed you whenever I come by the shelter to do sessions.”

Is it considered missing me if I’m hiding out somewhere else?

“I know,” I lie. “It’s been a busy few weeks.”

“Is that why you haven’t rescheduled your session?’ she asks. “Or are you hiding?”

“I’m hiding,” I grunt. “I got kidnapped by a pack apparently with my father’s blessing, so I don’t feel like talking.”

The silence goes for so long that I hang up and keep eating. Maybe it’s rude, but I don’t have time for someone’s shock. I live the day to day of this.

Managing to eat half my sandwich, I wrap the other half to snack on at work, and drop it into the to go bag. Shoving my phone in my purse, I head out of the shop, seeing Aiden parked in a street parking spot. Opening the door to the passenger side, I climb inside.

“Change your mind, Princess?” Aiden asks.

“Princess’ prerogative,” I mutter, lips twitching.

Snorting, he steals the bag, pulling out the other half of the sandwich to eat as he drives in silence. So much for my snack later.

“I don’t trust the food delivery people, so I’m going to go into work early,” I tell him.

“Princess, you’ve been working all day,” he says. “Just because you’re not at Omega’s Haven doesn’t mean you’re not living and breathing it.”

That was oddly observant.

“While true, it’s necessary while we’re getting everything up and running,” I explain.

“Do you have to do everything, though?” he asks. “I know you’ve talked about having a helper in the shelter, but can’t you hire a mini you for the outreach portion? Someone who orders toilet paper and shit, makes sure there’s someone to report to if someone has a question that isn’t you and Wren?”

“If I could clone myself, I would,” I say wryly. “We’ve thought of hiring someone to do this, but don’t know how to go about it. So much of the information is things that live in our heads, emails, or is a pipe dream, that it’s hard to imagine that someone would want to take the job on.”

Aiden stops at a light, gazing at me for too long, and I wonder if he can see the shadows around my eyes and the way my body is starting to twitch a little from being overtired. I’m getting very little sleep, and feel as if I’m pushing myself through each day.

“What?” I ask, feeling self conscious.

“You’re just amazing,” he says, shaking his head as if trying to wrap his mind around what I do.

Join the club, I wonder how I do it every day.

The drive to the shelter is quiet, and Aiden scowls when I ask him to drop me off at an alley.

“The shelter is at the back of the alley, Hayes. We keep the area free of alpha scents. Staff parks down here and it’s never a problem,” I tell him. “I’ll be working until ten tonight.”

“That’s insane,” he growls as I shrug.

“I didn’t ask, cupcake,” I say, grabbing my duffle bag with a smirk as I hop out.

“Cupcake? That’s what you have for me?” he roars, making me laugh.

It’s been way too long since I’ve done that, or so it feels. My amusement follows me into the building, which unfortunately dissolves as I find that the delivery service has not followed through on their promises.

Fuck me. Guess I’m going to have to speak to my father.

Scowling, I commandeer an office in the shelter space, closing the door as I call him.

“Aisling!” Dad booms. “Fucking finally. It’s been weeks.”

“I know,” I say curtly. “I need your help, but it’s for the shelter. I don’t really want to hear about how you pretty much gave me away to a pack that’s psychotic and full of liars.”

“You, what? That’s not what happened at all,” he grunts. “Alright, we’ll play it your way, my daughter. What happens to be the matter?”

Swallowing hard, I feel a wave of emotion at the way he calls me his daughter. I don’t know how to combine this man with the one who lied to me for months.

“I have a problem with my food delivery service,” I explain. “They’ve been ghosting me, refusing to deliver food, which forces me to physically go and shop for the shelter. If that was the only inconvenience, I wouldn’t bother you with it, but they’ve been charging me for food that I’m not receiving. I could also simply change my delivery service, except I suspect that someone is urging them to do this. It’s likely to happen again.”

“First of all,” Dad drawls, “you could stub your goddamn toe, and you wouldn’t be bothering me. I’d like to know about it. Second of all, who is fucking with you?”

“Some women’s organization,” I grumble. “It’s so dumb. They’ve been emailing Wren and I, and every message is more and more aggressive because we haven’t met with them yet. I’m ready to throw in the towel and set up a meeting, but they’re clearly unhappy that we exist.”

“I need a name,” Dad grows. “Right now, Aisling.”

Sighing, I reply, “Emilia Richardson. The Whalen Society mentioned that I may want to ask for your help on this.”

“So you met your pack’s parents then?” Dad asks, making my jaw drop.

“I what?” I ask. “They’re also not my pack, I don’t care what they forged on that goddamned paperwork.”

“You didn’t sign it,” Dad repeats slowly. In the next breath he states, “I don’t know if they were all there, but Hayes’ mother is Trinity Hayes. She’s the head of the organization. Evan’s mom is Sue Whalen, and may have been there as well.”

“That lying son of a bitch,’ I grunt. “None of them gave any signs of being related to Hayes.”

“They have very good poker faces, but their intentions are solid. I would suggest trusting them with Omega’s Haven business. What did they want?” he asks.

“They were asking about volunteer opportunities,” I explain absently.

“They’re very active in the community, so that tracks as well,” Dad says. “Now, looping back to your signature being forged, why are you still at their house exactly?”

“I don’t want to go home, and when I made a run for it two weeks ago, Hayes caught me and dragged me through the snow back inside,” I tell him. “Please, feel free to put a bullet or two in him. He’s going to have a fancy new scar from where I threw my knife at him. I had no idea who he was during my heat. The asshole wore a mask the entire time. Now, they’re my shadows, asking too many damn questions and insisting on driving me everywhere. I also have no idea where my fucking car is.”

“It’s here,” Dad says. “One of them brought it back and then left. I found it when I came back from a meeting and called you, but you never called me back.”

“I didn’t listen to the messages,” I admit. “I’m too pissed off.”

“I see,” he says. I can imagine him now, staring down at the leather pad he keeps over his fancy desk. It’s something he does often when he’s processing something. Fuck, I miss him. “What’s the name of the delivery service?”

“Tricut Delivery Services,” I tell him. “They said they’d make it right when Hayes took the phone from me and threw out your name.”

“Now they’ve disrespected me and my daughter knowingly,” he growls. “I’ll make this right. How are you on food now?”

“It’s all spoiled, and had to be thrown out,” I explain. “I was charged for this delivery, along with some bullshit service charge. Our budget isn’t bottomless, so the fact that this is happening continually is concerning.”

“I got it,” he says. “I have the address of the shelter. I’ll send someone with food. It’ll be a beta, I promise.”

“Wait, you don’t need to⁠—”

The line is dead as I’m saying the next word, and I stare at the wall in front of me with the poster that talks about healthy pack styles and shake my head. The irony is not at all lost to me.