Page 12 of Claimed By My Exiled Alphas
Vanilla and honey, but richer than that. Brown butter and caramelized sugar. Fresh herbs and something warm that made my alpha instincts surge with sudden, focused intensity. The kind of omega signature that practically sang to the deepest parts of me.
I stopped walking, trying to locate the source, and found myself staring across the street at a small brick building with wide front windows. Through the glass, I could see someone moving around inside what looked like an empty commercial space. Auburn curls caught the morning light, and even from this distance, her movements spoke of purpose and planning.
She was measuring something, making notes on a tablet, occasionally stopping to study the space like she was visualizing possibilities that didn’t exist yet. The focused attention of someone who knew exactly what they wanted to create and was working through the logistics of making it happen.
Omega. Unmistakably, powerfully omega, with a scent that seemed to cut straight through all the defensive walls I’d built over the past three months.
“That’s the new girl,” a voice said beside me, and I turned to find an older woman I recognized from the farmer’s market during my previous visit. Martha something. She was watching me with the kind of sharp attention that small-town residents reserved for outsiders they hadn’t quite decided about yet. “Showed up about two weeks ago. Been looking at properties, talking to the community bank.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to respond with anything that wouldn’t reveal how thoroughly that omega’s presence had knocked me off balance. Through the window, she’d moved to a different part of the space, running her hand along what looked like old wooden shelving with the kind of careful touch that suggested she saw potential where others might only see renovation costs.
“Don’t suppose you’re planning to stay in town?” Martha’s question was casual, but I caught the underlying assessment. Are you a threat or an opportunity?
“I haven’t decided,” I said honestly, which was truer than I’d realized until the words came out. “I’m considering my options and… what I actually want in my life now.”
“Hmm.” She studied me with the kind of thoroughness that probably made her grandchildren confess to crimes they hadn’t committed yet. “Well, if you’re serious about making amends for what your family almost did here, actions speak louder than money.”
She walked away before I could respond, leaving me standing on the sidewalk with that pronouncement ringing in my ears. Actions speak louder than money. As if I hadn’t already sacrificed everything I’d been raised to value. As if choosing principles over inheritance hadn’t been the loudest action I could possibly take.
But she was right that nobody here knew that. Couldn’t know it, because explaining would mean admitting I’d lied to everyone during those six weeks of surveys and planning meetings. Would mean revealing that every conversation, every site visit, every friendly chat over coffee had been strategic manipulation designed to gather evidence against my own family. It might have been done with the intention of helping the town, but it had still been manipulation nevertheless.
They’d hate me even more for the deception, even if they understood the reasons behind it. It would be just one more lie to stack up against every other perceived wrong doing they were holding against me.
I looked back at the brick building, but the auburn-haired omega had disappeared deeper into the space, out of sight. Her scent lingered though, warm and complex and completely unlike anything I’d encountered in my carefully constructed previous life.
What was her story? What brought someone like her to Hollow Haven? Was she running from something, the way I was running toward something I couldn’t quite name?
I forced myself to keep walking, to not stand there staring like some creep who couldn’t control his alpha instincts. Past the hardware store and the coffee shop, past the little park where kids were playing on equipment that would have been demolished to make room for my family’s parking structure. Past businesses that were thriving because I’d made sure the development died before it could destroy them.
At the end of Main Street, I found myself at a small cafe with outdoor seating and a chalkboard menu advertising breakfast specials. My stomach reminded me I’d skipped breakfast in my hurry to get here, and the place looked local enough that maybe I could get a sense of community dynamics.
The interior was cozy and warm, full of mismatched furniture and local art on the walls. A middle-aged beta woman behind the counter looked up when I entered, her friendly smile faltering slightly when she recognized me.
“Morning,” she said, professional but cautious. “What can I get you?”
“Coffee, black. And whatever your Saturday special is.”
She nodded and turned to pour coffee from a carafe that looked like it had been brewing since dawn. When she set the mug in front of me, she paused, studying my face with the kind of directness that suggested she’d decided caution was less important than honesty.
“You’re the Black boy. The one whose family wanted to tear down half the valley.”
“I am.” No point denying it. “Though I’m not involved with my family’s business anymore.”
“So I heard.” She leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “Also heard you’re the one who leaked those environmental studies to the press. That true?”
My hand tightened on the coffee mug. This was the first time anyone had directly asked me that question. “Where did you hear that?”
“Small towns talk. And some of us pay attention to timing. Those studies showed up in the news exactly when your family needed them to stay buried. Seemed convenient for everyone except the Blacks.”
I met her gaze steadily, running through the strategic implications of confirming what she’d clearly already concluded. In the end, I settled for honesty. “My family made choices I couldn’t support.”
“Hmm.” She pushed away from the counter, heading to the kitchen. “Your breakfast will be out in a few minutes.”
I sat at a corner table, nursing my coffee and trying to process the fact that at least one person in Hollow Haven had figured out what I’d done. The question was whether she’d keep that knowledge to herself or whether it would spread through the community like wildfire.
And whether being revealed as the whistleblower would make things better or worse.
Through the café windows, I could see that brick building further down the street. Could imagine the auburn-haired omega still inside, planning whatever she was planning, completely unaware that the town villain was sitting here thinking about her.
