Page 7 of An Alpha’s Guide to Finding the One

I’m positive my pupils are blown and I must look out of my damn mind, but I feel it. My alpha is absolutely unhinged demanding we track down the omega and lock her up until we can convince her to let us brand her throat with our teeth.

A hand reaches out to grab the fabric out of mine and I growl, snapping my teeth like an animal. “Woah, okay there, killer. Wanna come back from omega-land and not murder your only brother?”

Lucky’s words snap the reins back from my instincts and I shake my head, trying to dispel the haze that has clouded my vision. “Sorry,” I rasp. “Got lost for a second there.”

He nods solemnly. “Now you know why I’ve been so off the last few months.”

Desperation claws at my chest, sharp and sudden. “Do you know anything about her? Any identifying information that could help us find her?”

I watch as he rolls his eyes. “Yes, I’ve been sitting on that information all this time and purposefully haven’t tried to find her. No, you idiot, I don’t know anything. It’s like she is a goddamn ghost. I have searched every single inch of campus, the surrounding stores, other than that home decor place that closed recently. So either she’s actively avoiding me, or she was just visiting.”

I’m not sure which thought is more disheartening. The last thing I want is for this girl to slip away, but if she knows Lucky is a scent match and is avoiding him, then…

“She’s on suppressants!” The lightbulb goes off, and with it, a beacon of hope. “She wouldn’t have clocked you as a scent match because suppressants can mess with the olfactory center of the brain and change how you process scents.”

He sits up, his scent brightening considerably. “So she might not be avoiding me at all? She just doesn’t know what we are to each other?”

I laugh. “To be fair, neither did you until about five minutes ago."

Just then, my radio goes off. Normally I would ignore it, but the words have my blood running cold.

Dispatch this is engine seven, we have a large structure fire at the Anderson dorm at Harbor University. Requesting additional units and RA’s on scene. Multiple injuries and at least four female students still trapped inside.

Lucky pushes me off the bed, face set in grim determination. “Go. They need you, and I’ll be here when you get back. We can talk about this later.”

I nod, already sprinting out of the room. My department-issued truck is parked outside so I’m at the scene in less than ten minutes. The fire is still raging on the top floors, but the thing that has my heart racing frantically in my chest is the two girls being loaded on to stretchers by the dorm entrance.

My steps are quick but controlled as I rush over to the EMT’s. It seems as though there’s only these two injuries, but I would really like to make sure before I start interviewing bystanders. The closer I get, the more my heart pounds, which doesn’t really make sense when I’ve attended a dozen or more emergencies in my time as sheriff. But each new step towards the stretchers has something twisting so tight in my chest I can barely breathe.

Ryan, the senior EMT, is someone I’ve crossed paths with on numerous occasions so he nods to me as I approach. “Hey, Lawson. Got two female students, ages unknown, vitals stable on that one,” he points to another gurney where a female medic I haven’t met before is running a few tests on a young beta. The girl looks to be functioning and coherent, but the girl in front of me is a different story. Her breathing is labored even through the mask, and my alpha is going absolutely wild in my chest, demanding we fix whatever is wrong or find someone who can.

What the hell?

Ryan continues speaking, ignorant to my internal freak out. “This one, however, was trapped the longest and took in quite a bit of smoke. I’d like to take her to the hospital, but wanted to try and stabilize her here first.”

Just then a loud, wracking cough escapes the omega in front of us, and as she comes back to consciousness her acrid scent begins to rise under the suffocating layer of smoke wafting off of her.

Huckleberry pie.

It feels like a punch to the gut. This scent isn’t months old, it’s fresh. My entire world rearranges itself all at once to revolve around this little omega, and I don’t even know her name. The EMT moves quickly, adjusting the flow of oxygen and asking her a barrage of questions she can barely answer. The whisper of her voice is another shock to my system, settling deep into my bones like she was always meant to be there. “Lainey,” she coughs. “My name is Lainey Ryan.”

Her gaze flicks from me to Ryan, fear swirling in the depths of her brown eyes. There’s soot all over her face and hair, but it doesn’t detract from her beauty one bit. Lucky wasn’t even remotely exaggerating, she is stunning. I try to focus on her answers to the EMT’s questions, but it’s not until she goes into another coughing fit and gasps out a question of her own that changes everything that I am finally able to focus.

“Is my baby okay?”

“There’s no fucking way. Maybe she has a pet or something that got stuck in the dorm? People call their pets their babies all the time, right? She can’t be pregnant. She wasn’t in heat and we only hooked up one time!” Lucky is pacing back and forth across the small hospital waiting room, running his hands through his hair frantically.

Rhys sighs in exasperation, rolling his eyes at our youngest pack mate. “Did you use protection?” His southern accent is thick, betraying his frustration. Rhys moved here from Georgia when we were in high school, but the accent stuck around and though it’s faded some, it tends to get thicker when his emotions are running high.

Lucky’s cheeks heat, which is answer enough. I groan. “Goddamnit, Luck. She’s an omega. You should know better!”

He cringes, flopping down into one of the uncomfortable chairs across from us. “I know that!” He snaps. “Her scent did crazy fucking things to my head and I obviously wasn’t thinking rationally.”

Rhys sighs, exchanging a loaded glance with me. I should be furious with my brother for possibly getting someone pregnant, especially an omega, but when we first arrived I told the nurses she’s my omega and they had me lay with her to calm her breathing so she wouldn’t wake up and start coughing again. After seeing it work in real time, there’s no denying she’s our scent match. Maybe this is all happening fast, but nothing about it feels wrong. I haven’t even had a chance to fill Rhys or Wyatt in on what’s happened today. When I asked my pack mates and brother to meet me at the hospital, they all came no questions asked.

Similar to Wyatt and Lucky, Rhys has been my best friend since we were teenagers. The three of us lived on the same street throughout high school and then when Rhys and I moved in together after graduation, the knowledge that we would become pack one day was always in the back of our minds. But then Lucky met Wyatt his freshman year and the pack bond finally snapped into place.

“The girl, Lainey…” I trail off, partly to savor the way her name feels on my tongue, but also because I’m unsure how to broach the next part. I decide to just rip the bandaid off. “She’s our scent match.”