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squishqueen19 · 2 years

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OH MY GAWDDDDD😭 beautiful ending with a happy ending!!!!

raconteur - five

Alright, this is it. The final chapter.

Word Count: 9K

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, language, manipulation, mentions of divorce, knotting, parasocial relationship(s), depression, scenting, unwanted touching, dub-con, harassment, social media toxicity, anxiety mentions, sex, stalking, a surprise character, mentions of pregnancy, abduction, aggressive behavior, biting, bonding, Alpha/Omega dynamics, Alpha/Beta dynamics.

Series Masterlist

Dark Alpha! Andy Barber x Omega! Female Writer

Summary | Being a beloved best selling writer, you've kept your mysterious persona guarded well, until a comment on a social media post catches the attention of one of your most devoted readers.

“First five chapters are amazing,” Christine praises, your eyes still rereading the words on the laptop, editing a sentence while she continues on. “I thought you’d only have the first chapter done but five? Working in the middle of nowhere has been really good for you.”

Atlas snoozes on his bed, your mind going elsewhere for a moment, Andy Barber’s email still in your inbox.

“You there?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m here. Just thinking about what’s next.”

“Angie called. She’s hellbent on this marketing ploy to give people the first chapter of your book.”

“No,” you answer quickly. “Absolutely not.”

“I get it, I do,” Christine soothes, sighing. “I told her that it’s best if the book is finished. Any little tidbits will get people in a frenzy and they are already going a little nuts with the amount of speculation around this next endeavor. Carter Baizen really wants to turn your last book into a movie, even after you’ve said no. I told Angie you won’t go for it but she said Phillip -”

“Phillip Benedict? She’s still talking to him?”

“I don’t know why,” Christine says, her voice low, your eyes narrowing at the name.

“I don’t trust him.”

“I wouldn’t either after your incident with Captain Syverson. I’m so sorry that happened to you, you must have been so -”

Your sharp inhale means her usual fingernails tapping on the desk ceases.

“How did you know about that?”

“What?” Christine asks.

You lean forward, tears springing to your eyes at the mention of him.

How he held you down, his fingers wrapping around your neck as chills go down your spine.

“What do you mean?”

“I never told anyone that story except Angie,” you remind her quietly, shaking your head in disbelief. “Did she tell you that?”

“No.”

It’s too quiet on the other end, the desire to finish your editing long gone at this point.

“Then how did you know?”

“I want to know.”

“It’s better if you don’t. I shouldn’t have said anything, forget I even mentioned it,” Christine tries to brush off, clearing her throat. “I didn’t mean -”

“I want to know!” you shout, Atlas’ eyes opening as he gets up from his bed, placing his head in your lap. Your cramps intensify, making you grit your teeth.

“Phillip.” It feels like you’re underwater, holding the phone as you nod to no one but Atlas. “He mentioned it on his podcast. Captain Syverson got a dishonorable discharge for it. Apparently Phillip did some digging.”

“He spoke to Angie.”

“Maybe so.”

“Not maybe so. She did because she was the only person I told. What podcast was it?”

“I don’t think this is going to be helpful. You went there to rest, you should rest.”

“The podcast,” you demand, your voice clear. Determined.

“Gin and Gossip,” Christine answers you. “Please don’t listen to it. I already sent out a cease and desist letter. I don’t want you listening to it.”

“Did you ask her why she did it? Why she sold me out to tell one of the most awful people on this planet about my ordeal?”

“I’m sorry that happened,” Christine apologizes, her voice wavering. “Believe me, I am so sorry. I wish that never happened to you.”

“I have to go,” you respond, hanging up the phone as Atlas whimpers, pawing your knees before you wipe your tears.

“Let’s go for a walk, huh? Get some fresh air.”

You’re quick to get up, leaving your cellphone on the couch as you head out. Needing to clear your mind, you attach the leash to Atlas’ collar, heading out so quickly that you barely close the door.

Andy stares at the cabin in front of him, perspiration dotting his brow. The cold air soothes his fever for the moment, eyes on the doorknob as he knows he shouldn’t take a step forward. He can scent you – knows that this is your place without a doubt. He hadn’t been looking for it but he didn’t need to. A simple hike had led him straight to you, by your scent alone.

Judging by how he can still scent you, he has a feeling you’re in heat and if you aren’t, then you’re close to it, the thought making him hard as he takes a step toward the door.

It makes no sense, this way of thinking. It’s primal, possessive enough that he tries to shake the idea out of his head but it won’t go away, like a mantra that is pulled up from the depths.

Omega was here.

He used to ignore it before, silencing that part of his brain with suppressants when Laurie would get upset that he would go into rut, hide himself away from her. He imagines that it’s loud and clear now because he hasn’t tried to quiet it. He’s only increased the need for his hindbrain to take over, his hand reaching for the doorknob as he turns it.

To his surprise, it opens, Andy standing outside as he looks in. Your scent seems to be coated within these walls, his mouth watering as he takes a step inside. He calls out for you, a hint of irritation at the fact you’ve forgotten to lock the door.

Which makes it all the more ridiculous to him that he’s trespassing in your space because you forgot to lock the door, taking another step to see your cellphone on the couch. It vibrates wildly, ‘Angie’ coming up on the caller ID as Andy moves through the hallways. The space is designed so minimalist that Andy has to wonder if you decorated, the light sketches on the walls ones of various plant life, all framed perfectly as he continues down toward your bedroom.

The human part of his brain says this is wrong. He can leave and only his scent will be left, making you wonder if you had an intruder or not but he can’t stop himself from continuing forward, opening the door to your bedroom where your scent is concentrated the most. It floods his senses, nostrils flaring at how decadent your scent is, his tongue running over his lips as he inhales.

What gets his attention is the door on the right, pushing it open as he spies the neatly spun blankets, towels and material.

A nest.

Andy surveys it with great interest, leaning down to touch the fabrics as he stops himself for a moment. This is a sacred place, one that he never thought he’d see, something you’d kept away from prying eyes. He knew Omegas nested but not you. With how private you are, you’ve never mentioned a single thing like others have, partnering with various Omega companies to push their nesting products.

You never have.

Omega made a nice nest.

Safe. Good for babies.

Andy hums his approval deep down in his throat, getting up when he realizes he’s scented your pillow.

He can’t stop himself from continuing to scent the nest, his hindbrain working overtime at the scent of you.

Omega’s in heat.

His heartbeat thrums faster, running his tongue over his canines at the thought of you underneath him.

Find her.

Atlas barks loudly, pawing the ground before you finally let him off the leash, letting him run around the clearing, the lake ahead of you that keeps your attention for a moment. It’s peaceful, enough to let you focus on the mountains in front of you and the lake that seems to stretch on for miles.

Patting your pockets for your phone, you roll your eyes at the forgetfulness, sighing loudly as you vow silently to come back to get some pictures. But even so, there’s a sense of unease as you look up at the clouds beginning to form.

Thunder rumbles overhead, Atlas sniffing the grass while you call out to him.

“Come on, we gotta go back inside!” you warn, heading toward him as you look back, seeing teenagers hike through the woods. Your paranoia flares up, gripping the leash as you run after Atlas.

“Hey!” comes a voice behind you. “Is that Atlas?”

“Julie, shut up,” another voice admonishes. “Sorry! We just wanted to say hi. We’re big fans of your work.”

“Atlas,” you whimper, the dog heading back toward you as you slip on his leash. “Let’s keep going, okay?”

“Sorry we scared you. We’ll give you some space.”

You can hear their whispers, your head down as your anxiety spikes. Christine would have a fit if she knew that people had come to see you. You’d promised her that this place was private, away from prying eyes.

Atlas heads up a set of stairs, pulling on his leash while you press on, the teenagers not following as their voices fade in the background. Rain sprinkles onto your head and sweater, Atlas continuing on while you follow. Deep down you know you shouldn’t go too far.

The rain continues to intensify, Atlas looking up at the sky before he keeps going You falter in your steps, clutching your belly as he whines in response, circling back to you.

“I just… I need a minute, okay?” you ask him, watching him sit on your shoes. “Then we can head back.”

Andy finishes his inspection of your place, taking a step back from the en suite where he made sure to scent everything you would touch.

He lifts your shower gel to his nose, inhaling the scent before he places the cap back on, setting it right back where it belongs. He doesn’t want a thing out of place to arouse suspicion.

By his calculations, you’ll be back in an hour. He’s made sure to take the soft washcloth and place his clean palm against it, enough for the scent to linger.

The same thing with your sheets. Subtle enough that you won’t notice.

But your hindbrain will.

He makes his way back to the door when your phone buzzes again on the couch.

Judging by the amount of missed calls, he knows that something is up, heading back outside before closing the door.

His mind goes to the future, of you coming back to his scent and how you would react.

Find. Her.

Christine paces as she dials your number again, sighing while pinching the bridge of her nose.

“This isn’t like you,” Christine begins as she leaves a voicemail. “I need you to call me back. Pictures were leaked online, okay? Andy Barber is apparently near you and I’m shutting down the fan forums now as fast as I can but I need you to head back this way, okay? Call me when you get this. Please, please, please call me back.”

Christine hangs up, covering her mouth. She isn’t sure who hacked into Andy’s social media but they’ve analyzed everything, right down to the coordinates of where he is staying, only a few miles away from you. She isn’t sure why he’s there but the timing is suspicious, enough for her to wonder if Laurie and him are up to something.

Dialing another number, she waits, chewing on her lip as the phone picks up.

“Laurie Barber,” Christine greets, her eyes narrowing as she hears noise in the background. “Out of curiosity, where are you?”

“I’m going out for a drive.”

Christine doesn’t believe her, Laurie’s voice shaky with emotion while Christine continues to scroll through her notifications.

“You wouldn’t be heading up to a certain cabin would you?” Christine asks, pushing herself up and away from the counter.

“Why would that be any of your business?”

“Because I know that Andy’s pictures leaked and you’re an unstable woman who is about to make a big mistake.”

“What pictures?”

“Don’t play stupid with me,” Christine seethes. “They leaked an hour ago from his photo account. Someone hacked it.”

“I didn’t do it. What pictures?”

“Shit,” Christine sighs. “Then it’s another fan forum. Great.”

“He’s at the cabin, isn’t he? I knew it, I knew it,” Laurie says, sobbing louder.

“Get a hold of yourself. He’s at his own cabin. But you need to stay away from there if that’s where you’re heading.”

“He’s my husband.”

“She’s my client.”

“God, do you hear yourself? You really want to defend her? She’s probably fucking my husband right now and you’ve known about it!”

“Do you hear yourself right now? You’re heading up to a cabin to find your husband who isn’t your husband anymore. You continue to paint this narrative that my client is sleeping with your husband when she is not.”

“How do you know for sure?”

“I know her,” Christine snaps. “She would never go near another Alpha. Not with what she’s been through. I’ll call the cops if I have to but I don’t want it to come to that. You want to meet up with your ex-husband and have it over social media? Fine. But stay away from my client.”

“Everyone thinks I’m crazy,” Laurie mutters. “You don’t know how he gets when he’s in rut. He gets so focused, so determined. He used to focus on me. He stopped and now it’s her and he’s probably deep in rut and -”

“I’m calling the police,” Christine finalizes. “You take one foot up there and I’ll have you arrested for trespassing.”

“Do what you need to do.”

Laurie hangs up, Christine furiously dialing another number as they pick up on the first ring.

“Lloyd, I need a favor,” Christine says, closing her eyes in defeat. “I need you to stop Laurie Barber.”

“Sounds exciting,” comes his reply. “She’s an unhinged bitch.”

“Be that as it may,” Christine continues. “My client is in danger and the police won’t get there fast enough.”

“How much stoppin’ are we talking about? You want her alive?”

“Yes, alive,” she snaps. “I need her away from my client. Keep her safe but set her straight.”

“You’re no fun, you know,” he replies. “Fine. You have an hour to pay me.”

“Fine. Just get it done.”

Opening the door, Atlas stops at the entrance, the fur on his back raising as you pause. It smells different, your scent mingling with another. Your sweatshirt is damp, sticking to your skin as you absentmindedly scratch at your mating gland, your hand falling away when you realize why.

Alpha.

Shaking your head, you watch Atlas take a step inside, sniffing the ground as he pulls you along. It doesn’t look like anything was touched, zeroing in on your cell phone as it sits on the couch cushion. You aren’t sure why whoever came into your house didn’t take anything but the feeling of knowing a stranger was in your house makes you feel uneasy, especially knowing it was an Alpha, judging by the strong scent.

Rut.

Your hindbrain screams excitedly in your mind, clutching Atlas’ leash as you pick up your phone, shaking your head out of your stupor at the idea of coming into a house that clearly had someone inside.

Snatching your phone up, you had outside, dialing the police before you hang up, realizing that you don’t have much to give them. As far as you can see, everything is intact. Your laptop still sits on the coffee table, your phone now in your hand. Opening your purse, all of your money is still in your wallet, not a single thing out of place.

The scent of this Alpha makes your cramps more noticeable, doubling over at the pain before you straighten up. You can’t be here now, knowing the cell service is spotty.

There’s a place where you were able to get some space to make a call and you need to call Christine, knowing that she’s the only you can trust.

“Atlas,” you call out, looking behind you as your giant dog comes running, circling around you as he sits on your shoes again, making you immobile as you remember your breathing. “I know. I need to take a breath. But we can’t be here, okay? We need to call someone. Let’s go.”

Atlas follows, bounding down the steps as he stays next to you, watching you look at the bars on your phone appear and disappear with each step. Taking two steps to the right, you get a little bar, moving up toward a hill, praying for a miracle.

Andy hears the sound of a dog barking, stopping in his tracks. Thunder rumbles overhead once more, droplets of rain hitting his forehead and nose.

Omega is close.

He turns around, waiting for another noise to point him in the right direction.

He hears it again, turning to his right.

The rain picks up faster than before, Andy heading up the hill.

The phone rings on the other end, your breathing steady as Atlas sits on your shoes again, his heavy body centering you while you inhale deeply.

“There you are,” Christine says hurriedly. “Did you get my messages?”

“Someone broke into my cabin,” you tell her, tears filling your eyes. It could be anyone.

Phillip.

Syverson.

Your brother.

Your father.

“Are you in there? Get in your car and come back home. I’ll take care of it but you need to go, you -”

“Hello?”

The call drops as your battery notifies you at it’s at ten percent, swearing under your breath at falling asleep without charging your phone last night. Atlas gets up as you turn, looking up at the man who is at the bottom of the hill.

He’s bigger than you, moving the umbrella over his shoulder so that you can see his face. He looks familiar, even from far away, your eyes narrowing as Atlas thumps his tail against your leg. There’s no danger, at least not yet as you don’t move from your spot.

“Everything okay?” he calls out to you. “You’re the cabin next to mine, right? I think I saw some teenagers near your place. I hope it’s okay I made sure everything was alright. I poked my head in and made sure they weren’t in there.”

“Fine,” you call out, making a sound between a laugh and a whine as you shake your head, trying to navigate the murky thoughts of your mind if he’s a fan or someone who just happened upon you. “Needed some fresh air but I’m fine now.”

“Come on,” the man offers, motioning toward you as he holds up the umbrella. “It looks like it’s going to pour in a minute.”

You aren’t sure why you find it so easy to follow him but you do, reaching him as he places the umbrella over you, the small reprieve from the rain pelting on your body enough for you to let out a sigh before you look into his eyes.

The scent matches the one from your cabin, his explanation matching up with the teenagers you’d seen. It means you need to get away more than ever, realizing who the man is in front of you.

“Andy Barber,” you murmur, taking a step back as you nearly slip, his hand going to the small of your back to steady you.

He’s an Alpha, one that you’ve seen in the courtrooms on TV. Happily married to his Beta wife, from what you remember, watching them walk hand in hand when Ransom Drysdale won his case.

Alpha, your hindbrain echoes in your mind.

Alpha’s here to protect you.

You try to ignore it, the feeling of trust that has always gone horribly wrong when you’ve let your guard down. Everything about him is all male, all Alpha that makes you hesitate for a minute. He isn’t like Syverson, the cold smile on display before he tried to pin you on the desk.

Andy Barber stood up for Omegas, even helping Ransom’s wife off the stand. That much you remember.

Kind.

Not like the others you’ve met.

Let Alpha help you.

“Hi,” he replies. “Nice to meet you.”

Every step you took toward him, he swallowed hard, the need to take you here and now overwhelming. He’s better than that, of course. He can be patient, take his time and make sure you understand why he’s going to do this.

Why you’re going to be his mate.

When you finally get underneath the umbrella, he inhales your scent, looking down at Atlas who gives a low growl.

“Atlas,” you begin, looking at your dog. “What’s wrong?”

Atlas puts himself between you and Andy, Andy taking a step back as the umbrella still covers you. It’s faint, his scent that eases in your nose. A cramp pulls at your insides, enough for you to wince as Andy steadies himself, placing his hand down to let Atlas sniff it before he allows Andy to pet him.

“I didn’t know you’d be up here,” you admit. “I answered your email a few days ago.”

He shrugs as if it’s not an issue, your need to please apparent before he moves the umbrella over you to cover you more.

“Sometimes I just need some peace and quiet. Last minute trip.”

The rain continues on while you start heading back to your cabin, keys in hand.

“Leaving so soon? Is everything okay?” he asks you, concern on his handsome features.

“I have to get back. I’m going back home.”

“We’ll get you there, don’t worry,” Andy promises.

“No, I need to go back home. As in my home,” you reply with a shake of your head. “It’s not safe. I saw the teenagers earlier. They were following me.”

“You did? Did you call anyone?”

“I left my phone,” you answer quietly, almost forlorn as Andy nods.

“Why don’t you try and call now?”

“No service,” you answer, showing him your almost dead phone. “I’m just going to go once I get back. Thank you Andy for helping me, I appreciate it. Didn’t realize you’d be up here.”

“Like I said,” Andy clarifies, walking with you back up the trail. “With my hectic schedule, I need a little peace at times.”

When you cabin comes into view, Andy pauses at the familiar car that is in the driveway.

“Who is that?” you ask, looking at the car that pulls up into your driveway, a dark haired woman getting out as she slams the door shut, too far away to see her up close.

You don’t have to.

Andy knows exactly who it is.

“You don’t know them?” Andy asks, trying to keep his cool as his hindbrain gets louder and louder.

Omega is scared.

“No,” you tell him, heading toward your place, anger overtaking your fear. “But she doesn’t belong there.”

“Wait,” Andy stops you, blocking your path. “You don’t know if it could be another fan, right? Look, I know we don’t know each other well but come to my place. I’ll stay outside while you make a phone call. I get service there, you can charge your phone, do whatever you need and I won’t bother you, I promise.”

You look back, hearing the woman scream out your name as Atlas growls at the noise, your hand scratching his ears as he whines.

“How far?” you ask him.

“Follow me.”

Andy opens the door to the cabin, holding out his hand for you to wait under the awning.

“It smells like me,” he says sheepishly. “Don’t want to trigger anything, you know? Let me open the windows, make you some tea and then I’ll step outside and you can make your phone calls.”

It’s thoughtful, giving you space as he moves inside the cabin. You’re trying to remember your instincts, the ones that are so strong that it makes you think about running away, running back to your car.

But the woman you saw still haunts you, keeping you still as Atlas gives a soft woof while you scratch under his chin.

The sound of the burner turning on gets your attention, a cup placed on the counter while Andy stands out in the doorway. You still have no service, your phone now at 5% battery. For a moment, you ignore that request you wanted to make, to plug in your phone so that you could talk to Christine, seeing the multiple text notifications

“Do you have a favorite type of tea?”

He looks at you questioningly as he holds up two boxes.

“Earl Grey,” you respond, Andy looking at the boxes as he shakes his head.

“Here I was thinking spearmint or chai,” he responds, moving back toward the kitchen as you see him move around the space from the big window.

Within a few minutes, Andy steps back outside, motioning with his head for you to come in.

“Water’s ready for you, there’s a packet of early grey – didn’t want to touch anything, you know? Take your time, I’ll wait out here. There’s a charger in there if you need it.”

You nod, trying to find words as you step into the cabin.

His scent overwhelms you, hindbrain humming when you inhale.

Alpha’s den.

Safe.

Pouring the water into the teacup, you let the tea seep for a minute, plugging in your phone as Atlas whines.

It’s been a while since he’s eaten and you aren’t sure how to ask if you can feed him, let alone if Andy has any acceptable food to give him.

“Hang on, bud,” you promise him, crouching down to give him a hug, pressing a kiss on the crown of his head. “I promise, we’ll get you something to eat.”

Taking a sip of your tea, you force yourself to keep calm, even as you feel the slick stick to your thighs. If Andy noticed, he hadn’t said anything, picking up your phone to call Christine back as the bars are full strength.

“Where are you?” Christine demands. “Are you on your way?”

“I couldn’t go back to my place, there was a woman there and she -”

“Woman? What did she look like?”

“I didn’t get close,” you admit.

“What did she look like?”

“Dark hair, she was thin, I think? Couldn’t see from that far but she was upset.”

“Where are you?” Christine asks, her voice low. “You sound super clear.”

“I ran into someone actually. I’m at their cabin, using their charger.”

“Who?”

“Andy Barber.”

The silence on the other end makes you nervous, taking a sip of your tea as you wait for her response.

“Christine?”

“I need you to get out of there, okay? You need to go,” Christine warns. “That woman that was at your cabin? That’s Andy’s ex-wife. She’s got it in her head that you and Andy are having an affair. You remember her, right? She came to your book signing.”

“Ex-wife?”

“I tried to call you the other day to tell you. She had this whole breakdown on social media, it was all over Twitter. But I need you to understand that she’s not right in the head and judging by how she’s acting, he’s probably going into rut.”

“Rut?”

The cup slips out of your hands, crashing to the ground as Andy stands in the doorway, his gaze focused on you.

“Did you hear me? Hello?”

Laurie bangs on the door, her voice shot as she looks through the window.

“Open up!” she shouts, banging on the door harder. “Come out!”

At the silence, she slumps down, resting her head against the door.

“I came to you first,” she says, tears streaming down her face. “But you want to force my hand? Fine. If I find out you’re with my husband…”

She reaches into her purse, the cold metal of the gun under her fingertips.

“I’ll make you regret it.”

“What is it?” Angie hisses. “I’ve been dealing with damage control all day.”

“Answer the phone when I’m trying to call you,” Christine snaps. “It’s serious.”

“Everything is serious. First you want to shut down the fan forums, then the cease and desist and then -”

“Laurie Barber is at her cabin.”

“What?” Angie whispers, muffled by her hand. “What do you mean she’s headed to the cabin? Last time we spoke, you told me that she backed off. Gave an apology -”

“She’s with Andy Barber.”

“What is she doing with Andy Barber?” Angie demands. “Is she not in the cabin? You checked it out yourself, we made sure it was safe.”

“She’s at his cabin.”

“Shit,” Angie mutters. “This isn’t going to go well. How does she know him?”

“I don’t know,” Christine answers her with a sigh. “Angie. He’s in rut.”

“Lloyd.”

“Already done,” Christine replies coldly. “I told you this was going to happen. She’s up there all alone with an Alpha in rut and now we have to use the plan we’ve never used before because you had to have your claws in Phillip Benedict to make sure he saw you as an acceptable Omega. Which then led to us using Lloyd as your guard dog to make sure you were safe from Syverson. Everything comes back to you.”

“Lloyd is our protection. Hers too. Calm down. He’ll handle it.”

“Fuck it,” Christine snaps. “I’m going to go get her.”

“I’ll be there soon,” Angie promises. “Give me a few.”

“No,” she answers her. “No more waiting. I’m sure you’re going to tell Phillip. Make sure he has a good tagline before he sells her out again.”

“I need to go.”

“Everything alright? I heard the noise,” Andy counters, looking at the broken tea cup. “I’ll clean it up, don’t worry.”

“You’re divorced,” you murmur, side stepping the broken cup as Atlas follows, moving him away from the broken shards.

“Yeah,” Andy sighs with a slow nod. “I tried to make it work. I really did. But I needed to be honest with myself. I didn’t need a Beta.”

Alpha needs you.

Andy places paper towels on the ground, soaking up the liquid as you take another step back.

“Was that your wife at the cabin?”

“Ex-wife,” Andy says with distaste, grabbing a broom as he sweeps the broken pieces and wet paper towels into the pan. His movements are slow, deliberate in a way that when you take another step, he tsks, your steps ceasing.

“You don’t need to be afraid of me,” he continues. “When was the last time Atlas ate?”

He tosses the shards and paper towels in the trash bin, crouching down to look at Atlas.

“You hungry, boy? I think I got something for you,” Andy promises, standing at his full height over you. “I can’t let you go out there.”

“Why not?”

Andy gives you a soft smile.

“Dangerous.”

“You’re in rut,” you accuse, watching as he wipes the perspiration off his forehead.

“And you’re in heat,” he answers you, reaching for a bowl out of the cabinet as he moves around the kitchen, pulling out a bag of dog food.

The same brand you buy.

“I could scent it on you,” he points out, pouring the food into the dish as he places it on the ground. Atlas looks at you for approval, licking his mouth in anticipation as he whines.

“That’s a good boy you have,” Andy resumes after a slight pause. “He must be starving.”

Atlas whines as you nod, letting him walk over to the food bowl. He wolfs it down as Andy turns around to face you.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Andy assures you gently. “But I can’t let you go.”

When you eye your phone, Andy grabs it before you do, pulling you against him as he looks into your eyes.

“Please, please, don’t,” you whisper, your lip trembling. “Just let me go, please, please.”

“Shh, Omega,” Andy soothes, brushing his wrists against your cheeks as he smooths back your hair. “Not safe for an Omega in heat to be out on her own. I made you something nice. It’s all for you. Come with me.”

Listen to Alpha.

It’s an Alpha command, one that grips you solely as you feel it, the need to please and obey making you follow behind, Atlas still eating as Andy gives him a soft pet on the back.

“We’ll be back soon, buddy,” Andy promises, heading down the hallway as he nudges you gently. “I think you’re going to like it.”

Laurie heads up the driveway, spying Andy’s car. It sends her into a spiral, stopping the car as she gets out, purse over her shoulder as the cold bites at her face and bare hands. She fled after being seen by a group of teenagers, who recognized her from the video, calling out insults to her before she got into her car and left.

She knows this is bad, being seen and probably recorded, putting her fate in jeopardy but at the moment, she doesn’t care. Knowing that he’s here confirms her worst fears.

Making her way toward his cabin, she dials his number, not caring that she’ll be there in a minute or so, hearing it go straight to voicemail.

“You son of a bitch,” she hisses angrily. “I see your car and you’re near her cabin. How could you lie to me? How could you do this to me?”

Hanging up her phone, she sees your dog sleeping peacefully on a bed, eyes widening in disbelief before she bangs on the door.

“Nice, isn’t it?” Andy says slowly, opening the door to the nest, standing behind you as you freeze. He can see the dark spots on your pants, your slick seeping through as you try to breathe.

“At-Atlas,” you whimper, Andy placing his hands on your upper arms, careful to avoid touching your mating gland.

“He’s fine, I promise,” Andy whispers against your ear. “Do you like it? It’s nice and soft.”

Alpha gave you a gift.

You blink, nodding your head as you exhale to calm your hindbrain. Everything hurts, your sweatshirt still sticking to your skin as Andy inhale your scent.

“Nice and safe,” Andy continues, his voice lowering as his lips touch the side of your neck. “A perfect place to be, especially since you’re in heat. I can help you.”

The blankets and pillows look soft, your skin itching under the fabric. Scratching at your mating gland, you shake your head.

“I can’t,” you respond, looking up at him with glassy eyes.

“Yes, you can,” Andy urges gently, nosing your neck as you sigh at his pheromones. It’s music to his ears, watching you take a step forward. “It’s natural, you and I. If you only knew how much I’ve been waiting for you. I want you to feel comfortable here. You want to be protected, right?”

Alpha is going to protect you.

“Y-Yes,” you answer, closing your eyes as your fingernails dig into your raised gland to scratch it harder.

Laurie goes to knock, her wrist grabbed from behind as she’s spun around, looking into the ice blue eyes of a man with a mustache who smiles at her.

“Hi sunshine,” he purrs, covering her mouth before she can scream. “Looks like I got here just in time. Lloyd Hansen, by the way. Pleasure to meet you.

She struggles against him as she scents him. An Alpha, one that doesn’t smell like Andy at all – more tobacco, citrus and bergamot. His brown hair is slicked back, tilting his head at her movements.

“One little move and I can break your arm if you like,” he offers, watching her stop moving. “Let’s face it, sweetheart. You’re in over your head and judging by the scents on the door, you’ve already lost. Nobody likes a sore loser.”

Lloyd spies her open purse, pulling the gun from it as he places it at her temple, hand still around her mouth.

“Shame on you, Laurie Barber,” he mocks, turning off the safety. “I took you for a pathetic woman scorned, not a coldblooded killer. How much do you wanna bet he’s got her on her hands and knees, hmm? Locked on that knot for hours, just like she should be.”

Laurie screams angrily at his words, the man tapping the gun against her temple.

“I’m supposed to keep you alive,” Lloyd warns with a cold smile. “But I could just as easily have an accident. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

She’s led back to her car, her keys in his hand as he opens the trunk, pulling duct tape from his pocket.

“Ladies, first,” he reminds her, taping her mouth shut.

“It looks perfect,” Andy says behind you, the sleeves of your sweatshirt pushed up on your forearms, tucking in the blankets and towels that smell like Andy into a better circle before he calls out to you, snapping you out of your fervor.

“Not finished,” you reply, reaching for a pillow before he gets to his knees behind you, unbuttoning his flannel shirt, pulling it off of him as he hands it to you. Greedily you snatch it from him, Andy hiding a smile at the way you’ve embraced your hindbrain, now deep in your headspace.

You inhale his scent, Andy pulling you closer as you chirp at his touch.

“That’s why you were hiding, weren’t you?” Andy asks, scenting you deeply as you grab onto his white undershirt, his mouth settling on your mating gland. “I thought the headspace was a myth. But look at you. Building me a nice nest, just like I knew you would. Your family history was turbulent, I know. But you’ve got me.”

He sucks another bruise on your skin, your eyes closing as his scent is all over you, eyes half lidded with your heat overtaking you. You smell incredible, Andy’s fingers easing up under your sweatshirt to touch your soft, warm skin that feels like silk under his fingertips.

“All it took was a little persuasion,” Andy murmurs, sucking a bruise into your neck as you whimper. “You were worth the time I spent trying to get to you. Those other Alphas, I promise you, they’ll never get the chance to hurt you again. All you have to do is let me take care of everything.”

“My book,” you whisper, breaking out of your haze slightly as Andy applies more pressure on your mating gland.

“There’s gonna be enough time for you to write whatever you want,” Andy promises, letting his teeth snag onto your gland as your eyes widen. “Once you’re my mate.”

“N-No,” you plea, your eyes widening as he holds you close. “Wait.”

“Shh, it’s alright. Once you’re mated, it’s going to help those cramps go away, I promise.”

He knows he’s right, your breathing shallow as he scents you again, enough to make you drunk off his pheromones, running his tongue over his teeth before he pulls you into his lap.

“Nice and slow,” Andy continues, sinking his teeth into your mating gland as you gasp, his fingers skimming up your back as you wince, your whimper of pain breaking his heart and making him hard at the same time.

The bond is instantaneous, emotions flooding him as he laps at the blood, holding you tight as you press your head under his jaw, seeking out reassurance as vulnerability overwhelms you. He can feel it, enough to want to wrap you up in his arms and not let you go.

A sense of peace he’s never known blankets his thoughts. You’re safe, far from the harm that Laurie could do, knowing he’d protect you with his life. It’s a strange thought, holding you in his arms and he realizes this is what Ransom meant when he said his life was changed.

There are two of you in the bond, Andy carefully pulling your hands away from your face as he studies you. The bite is perfect, his tongue running over his teeth at the taste of you.

“It’s going to be alright,” Andy soothes, tucking you against his chest as your hold on his shirt doesn’t falter, wiping your eyes gently. “You have me now.”

Atlas scratches at the door, Andy looking over at it as he reaches to open it, the dog bounding inside as he sniffs at you, pawing his way up to your neck to inspect your mark.

“She’s alright,” Andy soothes, watching Atlas sniff you again before he looks over at Andy. “We’re going to be a nice little family, I promise.”

Christine parks her car behind yours, looking through the window of the cabin. Your phone continues to ring and send her to voicemail, her fear that you aren’t safe making her shake as her phone vibrates in her hand.

“What?”

“Well hello to you too, sunshine,” Lloyd greets her. “Thought you’d be happy to know I found her sneaking around. She was at her ex-husband’s place, ready to tear the place down.”

“Oh, thank god,” Christine sighs, exhaling in relief.

“I thought I’d seen it all but looks like Andy found himself a stage ten clinger. Had a nice little gun in her purse.”

Christine goes silent at Lloyd’s admission.

“A gun?”

“That’s what I said. I have it now but thought you might like to know. You’re a good one, Christine. I don’t think Angie would have given me the call. How is the old bat, anyway? Still chasing after Phillip Benedict’s upper crust knot?”

“What are you going to do with her Lloyd?”

“Hell if I know. You said to keep her alive so she’s alive. Gotta say though, she’s got a mouth on her. Threatening to sue, threatening to kill me… she’s got a lot of nerve for someone who doesn’t know if she’s going to live to see another day.”

“She will see another day,” Christine demands, running her fingers through her hair. “Just… keep her away until I say so.”

“Angie not calling the shots this time? That’s interesting.”

“I’m not discussing this with you,” she replies. “Just keep her alive and safe until I call you back.”

“You got it, Toots.”

“Don’t call me Toots.”

Hanging up, she knocks on your door, waiting for any answer.

She was hoping you’d had come to your senses, back to your cabin and away from Andy Barber. Still, she feels the dread at the thought of knowing Andy’s been in rut, getting back into her car to search to see if she can find his cabin.

Shame should play out somewhere in this space, your clothes somewhere in the nest, your fingers flexing, extending toward the plush blankets and then forming into fists when Andy bottoms out inside you. It hurts slightly, just enough between the precipice of pain and pleasure, the stretch of his knot keeping you full as he cums once more.

You’ve gotten used to the feeling of his knot, enough that you’re starting to crave it more than you thought you would.

And he seems eager enough to make sure you have it.

“So gorgeous,” he praises, quieting your soft pants with his mouth. You can’t think straight like this, still overcome by all that’s happened and what continues to be, your legs locked around his waist.

Rut.

The word takes on a different meaning now, Andy careful with how he handles you, baring his teeth when you clench down on him. It’s messy, your heat and his rut, sweat soaked skin and your scents mixed together, a finely tuned orchestra of bodies and sounds that make your hindbrain sing.

It feels out of body sometimes, going for hours at a time, your voice thick with need when your heat reaches a peak, Andy soothing you as only he knows how. He disappears at times, enough for you to know that he’s taking care of Atlas.

There isn’t time to worry about Christine or Angie. Everything is Andy, kept in this space that you both occupy, your needs seen to that you weren’t even sure you had.

He gives an experimental thrust that makes you squeak, looking up at him as he braces himself on his arms.

“Can’t stop wanting to feel you,” Andy admits, eyeing your mark. “Love having you on my knot.”

The words he says makes your face heat up, even if you’re wearing not a stitch of clothing – just Andy.

It’s new, still deep in your headspace that your mother had once told you about when you were a child, the day before your father had come home in his rut.

“We’re different,” your mother tells you, plucking the cup from your hands. “One day, you’re going to find an Alpha and that Alpha is going to pursue you. They always do.”

“Nuh uh,” you deny. “No Alphas.”

“We’re special,” your mother continues. “Our kind know how to please, how to make our Alphas happy. Our hindbrains are strong. We can anticipate what they need.”

“Papa too?”

“Papa too,” she agrees. “But be careful. Not all of them are good. You avoid those as best you can, okay?”

“Go to the cabin,” you recite. “Safe there.”

“Exactly.”

“Sleep,” Andy says gently, on the horizon of an Alpha command. “You need rest.”

Christine pulls up to the cabin a few miles over, staring at the shiny, black Audi that sits in the driveway. She gets out of the car, her heels seeping into the soft earth as she continues up the steps, knocking loudly as she hears the sound of a dog barking.

Her eyes widen at the sight of Atlas, who barks excitedly as the door opens, Andy Barber at the doorway in a pair of jeans and a white shirt, looking at her with curiosity.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes,” she answers, bending down as Atlas bounds toward her, nearly knocking her over as she lets herself go for a moment, cuddling the giant dog as she sighs with relief, her eyes narrowing when she puts two and two together.

“Where is she?”

“Who are you?” Andy says, his voice low with warning.

“I’m her publicist,” Christine snaps. “Where is she?”

“Safe,” Andy replies, leaning against the door. “Which is more than I can say had I not found her.”

“Bullshit. What did you do to her?”

“My mate is asleep,” Andy answers, Christine taking a step toward him.

“Mate? Are you kidding me? Does she know what you’ve done? You were a fan, Mr. Barber.”

“And you were her publicist who couldn’t shut down the fan sites quick enough when they got out of hand. You also allowed the leak of two of her pictures, thus leading to her being followed by a few rabid fans who stalked her while she was out with her dog. This ring a bell, Christine? You call me a fan but I called the shots from day one.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“The podcast she did a few months ago, she mentioned she was told she was excluding certain designations. I did a little digging myself. Turns out her manager, Angie, is it? She put the bug in a certain Phillip Benedict’s ear to get him to start raising hell about excluding Alphas. According to Title 10, she’s allowed a safe space. That’s a breach of her contract.”

“Title Ten?” Christine asks, confusion on her face as Andy sighs.

“Title Ten mentions that no Omega will be placed under undue stress around the Alpha designation. The book signing where Phillip showed up? A petition to have him removed from any of her events circulated. I know you saw it. You just ignored it. Kept it away from her.”

“I was told there was nothing we could do.”

“Incorrect,” Andy denies with a shake of his head. “Let’s continue, shall we? My ex-wife posted a social media rant, one that slandered my name and hers and it was up for more than seven hours, leading to speculation and death threats that not only I received but she received as well. I managed to shut it down after I found out about it. You went the route of a cease-and-desist letter. Classic PR movement.”

“This is ridiculous,” Christine counters. “I want to see her. Now.”

“Syverson,” Andy continues, taking a step toward her. “That’s a hot button issue, isn’t it? Sexually harassed, her mating gland bruised in the process and months of therapy that was swept under the rug. All of that swept under a rug so that you both could push her to write another book. A best seller of course. I know you were proud.”

“I didn’t know she had gone to therapy. I didn’t know it happened until -”

“Until the pressure kept up,” Andy agrees sarcastically. “I know, you’re innocent in this, aren’t you Christine?”

“I didn’t realize how bad it was getting until I saw the posts.”

“Posts?” Andy scoffs. “Which ones? The ones where they’ve leaked her pictures? The ones of her that I’ve seen with my own two eyes that I know she never would have approved for prying eyes? The way they’ve tracked her every more? You may be giving yourself a pat on the back with shutting down the fan sites but it was me.”

Christine swallows, knowing what he’s telling her is true. They were shut down prior to her trying to get them taken down.

“Once those teenagers got close, I shut it all down. Laurie leaked my pictures and don’t worry, I’m sure she’s taken care of, by Angie, no less. But make no mistake, Christine. She’s not yours anymore. She’s mine.”

Christine’s mouth shuts at his growl, blinking at the intensity of his possession.

“I still want to see her.”

Christine sits gingerly on the couch, Atlas at her side as hushed voices from the bedroom get her attention. Andy stands behind you when you appear, wrapped in a silk robe as Christine gasps at the sight of the mark.

“Is it true?” you ask her, your eyes filling with tears at the sight of her. “Did you know this whole time?”

She scrambles to get up, coming toward you as Andy steps in front of you, baring his teeth at her getting too close. Still in rut, she knows he’s protecting you, not letting her get any closer.

“I didn’t know that Phillip and Syverson were… I didn’t know what they did to you.”

“And my pictures? Did you leak those?”

“It was for marketing,” Christine tries to reason, Andy’s gaze turning fierce as you sniffle. “I swear, I didn’t know they were going to hack you.”

“People followed me. You said I was safe.”

“I swear, I didn’t know how bad it was until I saw Laurie’s post.”

“How long did you know about that?”

“Long enough for me to have done something. We’re going to fix this, okay? I promise.”

Andy shakes his head, leading you back toward the bedroom as Christine follows.

“Don’t,” Andy commands. “Leave her alone.”

“I’m sorry,” Christine sobs, wiping her face as your steps quicken, the door closing shut right after Atlas slips inside. “Please, just let me make it right.”

“I’ve already done that for you. Now get out.”

Angie heads toward the unmarked door, eyes wide in surprise as Laurie sits, bound and gagged in a chair, Lloyd watching a football game with his legs propped up.

“Finally,” Lloyd muses, finishing his beer. “About time you showed up.”

“You need to let her go.”

“I will, I will,” Lloyd says, motioning for Angie to take a seat. “We need to talk.”

“Talk about what?”

“I’m under new management.”

“What?” Angie asks, confused as Lloyd nods.

“See, I hate working for you. You’re a little unfair and I gotta be honest, Phillip Benedict is an asshole. He’s never going to mate you, by the way. You’re not his type. His type is currently in the cabin so you can see how that becomes a problem. Or did you already figure that out?”

“What I do in my personal life -”

“Means that you get bought out and shut out. Listen, I go where the money goes and word on the street is that your little cash grab, that Omega you bleed dry? She’s got a mate now. Which means no more book signings, no more last minute rushes for her to finish her book.”

“I’ll double it. Whatever they’re paying.”

“Nah,” Lloyd grins. “I kinda like this guy. He works under the shadows. CIA type stuff. So I’m gonna let Laurie Barber go. You too. With a catch.”

“What catch.”

“Listen, either of you make a sound, a peep… I come back and silence you. That’s how it works. We all in agreement?”

Laurie nods furiously, Angie swallowing as Lloyd waits for her answer.

“Don’t keep me waiting, sunshine. I know how to get a solid answer.”

“Fine,” she snaps. “Happy?”

Lloyd takes the gag out of her mouth, winking as he takes the ropes off.

“Sure. Now leave before I change my mind. I could use an Omega or two to blow off some steam."

“And in other news, Phillip Benedict has been ordered to pay over 3 million dollars after losing a civil suit that was brought to the courts after the newest Omega law went into effect. Benedict was accused of harassment and bullying of a famous author two months ago, a direct violation of the law. Andy Barber, who famously made headlines for the Ransom Drysdale case, opted to take on his client, who is now his mate. Barber’s divorce made ripples in social media, after his ex-wife famously went on social media to spread false accusations that he and his now wife were in a relationship. Barber mentions that he met his mate on a retreat while she was writing her next book, which comes out in spring,” the news anchor finishes. “That’s all for our evening news, you all have a good night.”

Andy peers over at you asleep, his phone vibrating as he answers, Atlas asleep at the end of the bed.

“Crazy trial,” Ransom says on the other end. “Even crazier that you have a mate now.”

“Stranger things have happened,” Andy agrees.

“What really happened up there in the mountains? I drove past the repair shop and it’s all boarded up.”

“I heard someone bought them out.”

“Interesting. Any idea who?”

“No idea,” Andy says, pressing a kiss to your temple as you smile in your sleep.

“How’s the new book coming along? Heard she’s been hard at work.

“She took a little break,” Andy mentions, his hand sliding down to the curve of your belly. “Been a little busy with other things but she’s planning on finishing it eventually.”

"You're not going to ever tell me the full story, are you? You cleaned house with that trial."

"I told you," Andy recalls. "I can find anyone, remember?"

580 notes · View notes

squishqueen19 · 2 years

Text

Shit is about to hit the fan, isn’t it?! Please tell me it is😭 I love your writing btw🥹

raconteur - part four

We are almost to the finish line! I'm splitting this up into the final two parts instead of one.

Word Count: 4.8K

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, language, manipulation, mentions of divorce, knotting, parasocial relationship(s), depression, scenting, unwanted touching, harassment, social media toxicity, anxiety mentions, talk of smut (thinking of the future), stalking, aggressive behavior, Alpha/Omega dynamics, Alpha/Beta dynamics.

Series Masterlist

Dark Alpha! Andy Barber x Omega! Female Writer

Summary | Being a beloved best selling writer, you've kept your mysterious persona guarded well, until a comment on a social media post catches the attention of one of your most devoted readers.

Shadows from the backlight of the laptop carve deep shadows into Laurie’s face, setting up the light and camera, trying to find the perfect lighting. The undercurrent of dread at Christine’s visit has her rattled – enough for her to finish drafting her apology a day earlier, the voicemail from the lawyer reminding her of the looming deadline.

It wasn’t the presence of Christine that makes Laurie rush through to set up her makeshift studio in Andy’s former office.

It’s the fact that another woman, another Beta, threatened her. Solidarity doesn’t exist in this space, not when her client is a best-selling author with rabid fans who continue to harass her daily. Despite this, the only saving grace is that Laurie’s job is still intact – for now – as long as she keeps her head down and doesn’t mention a word of what she’s done. No longer the face of the organization, they’ve sanitized every crevice of what she’s touched, having her name removed from the invitations for the fall social. It feels like she’s being erased from the job she’s loved, hanging on by a thread due to her passion for the work she does and does well.

Facing the camera, Laurie looks at her wedding ring that she has refused to take off, even as she knows that Andy’s wedding band is still on her side of the bed. It’s something she looks at in the morning, a reminder that she can’t give up so easily.

Even if her hands are tied with the impending lawsuit.

Her shaky hand switches on the light and camera, looking at herself before she makes a few minor adjustments to the focus and sits, pressing record.

“Hi everyone,” Laurie begins, the bright light on her face. “I wanted to come on here and explain my outburst. I need to apologize and share my story.”

The tears come easy, remembering how quickly Andy had packed a bag, leaving his wedding band on his nightstand while she had begged for him to not go.

“My relationship with my husband was always filled with love. I know that my outburst did not portray the relationship that I cherished every day. It was my kneejerk reaction to a book that an author signed that mistakenly had her scent on it. As you are all aware, my husband’s designation is different from my own and there are sensitivities behind it,” Laurie pauses, biting her lip as she sniffles. “Sensitivities that you would not understand if you were not in the same predicament as me. I am haunted by the fact that every day, I cannot be what my husband needed me to be. I want to come forward to say that my claim of him sleeping with someone is false. I understand and take full responsibility for what I’ve done, for the pain that I have caused both my husband and her. It’s come to my understanding that she has never even met him. While I grieve for the dissolution of my marriage due to circumstances beyond both of our control, I want to speak out against the bullying and outright harassment I have received since I had opened up about my raw feelings.”

Gathering a breath, she looks up at the ceiling and then back to the camera.

“It is extremely hurtful to see the way I am talked about. Death threats are never okay! I live in fear every day because I don’t feel safe going outside,” Laurie continues, wiping her eyes. “I understand I made a mistake, but I am also only human and that I ask for compassion as a woman who no longer has her husband at her side. You have no idea what it’s like to know that this house was once a home and now it’s just me. I cannot tell you how hurtful it is to read that people think I am a villain when all I want to do is clear the air. I am sorry for my comments and the allegation that I made. It was untrue and I wish I could take it back. But I do not deserve any of the bullying. I do not deserve this harassment. Think about being kind before you speak or type something. There is a human behind it all. Thank you.”

The recording stops, Laurie sighing with relief that it’s over for the moment. There will be countless edits to be made, lighting choices to make sure it captures the tone of her despair.

Her phone chirps out a notification, Laurie looking at it as a new post pops up on a fan forum.

Are we getting a new book? This is Atlas, right?

Laurie stares at the picture. It’s your famed dog, climbing up a hill at a distance as he looks back at the camera.

Where did it come from?

I have sources. People found the cabin, allegedly.

Laurie should look away – should report it for being evasive but she doesn’t, continuing to scroll through the fight that is brewing over your privacy and what is considered public domain and what is not. A few comments are swiftly deleted by a sharp-eyed admin, Laurie scrolling faster to keep up as more comments roll in. All obsessed with where you could be, hinting that your absence was sped up due to Phillip’s comments and Laurie’s.

Person who took the pic – was she alone? Besides with Atlas, of course.

Curiosity makes her continue to read, to want to comment and keep her notifications on.

My source says it was just her but who knows? It was just a walk.

That sends more people spiraling, conspiracy theories building before Laurie eyes the camera. She needs to finish, needs to post it and put an end to this harassment, another commenting notification coming up on her screen.

Betas are so fucking sad. Can’t take a knot, don’t have a scent. What good are they?

Laurie turns over her phone, leaning forward to begin editing her video.

She doesn’t want to post it. Not after that comment.

But Christine’s warning fills in the silence in her head, getting to work as the sun begins to set.

“Atlas, you’re filthy!” you groan, looking at his muddy paws as he licks your cheek. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. You know the rules. We said one walk and now I have to give you a bath before you step foot inside the house.”

He leans against you, placing his muddy paw on your boot.

“Atlas,” you half laugh, half whine, herding him back toward the trail. The sun starts to fade over the hills, Atlas walking next to you as you shiver.

Turning around, you could swear you were being watched, looking through the trees and shrubs, standing still as his tail hits your calf, stopping as he gives you a warning bark, making you turn back around to continue on your way.

You’d seen some people up on another trail, continuing on their way as you swore you were spotted, the awkward feeling that you know this is a wide-open space and that you are only one person, not important enough to be gawked at. As Christine and Angie had suspected, cell service is spotty, enough for you to stand in one place to get a small bar of service before you snap a photo, sending it to Christine.

Safe and sound.

Shoving your phone back into your back pocket, you trudge back up the trail, Atlas stopping to sniff various broken branches and flowers until your cabin comes back into view. Standing off to the side, you watch for any additional cars that may come down. None come, though the gnaw in your stomach begins at the idea of your brother making a trip to see you. If you could, you’d wish that your father had never shared the location of the cabin with him, under the guise of keeping you safe, when he was the very one who followed in your grandfather and father’s footsteps, if not a bit more ‘unconventional’ in the ways he treated you.

Younger meant nothing once he presented as an Alpha, finding his voice among the men in your family and voicing his opinions, sometimes to the point of forcefulness. You kept him at a distance, hoping one day that you could mend the rift you and your brother had. As it stood, you refused to even let people know that you had a sibling, let alone a wayward one, be in in the real world or what you wrote.

But as it was, the way your father ran things, there could only be one Alpha in the household, and it would never be your brother.

You could forgive your brother for the downward spiral of not having a proper Alpha father figure to rear him. But you could never forgive your father for leaving him out in the cold, changing the locks and leaving him in the snow, Alpha commanding you and your mother to not open the door until your grandfather had picked him up.

Family, as you found, was only family when your father allowed for it. When his position was not threatened.

“I’ll be right back,” you promise Atlas, watching him sit at the back door. “Gotta get you cleaned up.”

It takes three trips to fill the tub, already sweating with exertion before checking the water to make sure it’s just right before Atlas bounds in, the water sloshing over the tub and on you while you let him settle, getting to work to scrub the dirt from his fur, letting him rest his head on your shoulder.

“You’re my best friend, you know that?” you tell him, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Love you, buddy. Couldn’t deal with all of this mess without you.”

You haven’t looked at the emails that have piled up since you sent off the note to Andy Barber, still trying to recall why that name sounds so familiar, even if you haven’t had the chance to research who he is. Maybe you met him at a book singing, you aren’t sure. But the name sounds so familiar that you repeat it once more, rinsing off Atlas’ fur before he slips completely from your mind.

At the end of it all, Atlas settles down by the roaring fire before you slip two aspirins into your mouth, chasing it down with the wine you’ve poured, hoping that the cramps will abate. Your heats are always the worst, especially with the way you’ve been under such stress.

Your latest book has been all the rage, even if you believe that you could have worked a little bit longer on it, despite Christine’s carefully crafted smile, letting you know that the deadline worked and that the book was fine.

Fine, as you decided, meant that it was good for the masses. Not for your hardcore readers who wanted to see more of the details in your work.

Atlas snores lightly while you sip your wine, working on the dialogue for a scene when another cramp hits, making you pitch forward slightly. It’s uncomfortable as it is, Atlas lifting his head at your soft whimper, only settling back down when you soothe him. The closet, which is as big as your bedroom back home, already has the required necessities for you to nest, despite your determination to finish what you’ve started.

Your mother would be proud of you.

Spending time in the cabin that she herself has only been to since you were born, sending you a reminder to make sure you take advantage of the balcony view that overlooks the lake. It’s on your list of things to do, despite the looming deadline of your first two chapters.

A notification pops up on your email, simply with a link that makes you cautious, looking at the sender.

It’s from Angie, giving you a moment to relax before you click it.

It’s her standard email with your recap of the book signings and the book sales. They always go up, even higher than you would believe them to be. There’s something about showing your face to the ones who devour your words.

But what gets your attention is the mention of Phillip Benedict, a picture of the two of them inside her office. It makes you slightly tremble at the reprehensible Alpha, anger threading through you at the sight.

Phillip wanted to apologize for his outburst to you. He’d love to sit down with you and apologize in person. Think of the impact it would have.

She’s out of her mind, you think, closing the email without a second thought. Syverson was a student of Benedict, enough to the point where he thought he could place his hands on you. Angie hadn’t seemed shocked when you finally disclosed what had occurred that fateful day, simply speaking with Sergeant Harper and letting him know that there would be a lawsuit. Not from you, of course. Angie lined her pockets with your wins, despite you not even being there to speak on what you endured.

None of that mattered, of course.

Angie just wanted to win.

Shaking away the thought of her, you look back to Atlas, sleeping peacefully before you slide your laptop back onto the coffee table, watching the fire begin to slowly die out as sleep comes, finally settling over you as the last embers fade out.

Andy wakes in the middle of the night, his shirt sticking to his body, slick with sweat. Despite the two fans and the air condition that is blowing, he can still feel the heat from the mattress, swinging his legs over as he plants his feet firmly on the ground. A cold shower will work but only temporarily, not even enough to take the edge off.

Just enough for him to shock his system for about half an hour before it comes right back.

Checking his phone, there are two missed calls from Laurie and a plethora of messages – one from Ransom and another from his assistant, both linking him to a post that he carefully opens, squinting carefully as his eyes adjust to the bright light, watching the camera focus in on Laurie.

He recognizes the space she is in, makeup free as her hair is carefully parted, eyes focused on the camera before she slips into the persona that she’s done so carefully before when others are watching.

“Hi everyone. I wanted to come on here and explain my outburst that I need to apologize for.”

Andy finds no remorse in her statement, only a carefully calculated response to what he knows is a threat to her livelihood and freedom. It wasn’t worth getting involved with when she had her originally outburst, even as his own lawyer had told him that he could sue for slander. He wanted a clean break, to keep his distance from the woman he had once loved who had changed into a different person that he could not accept any longer.

He cringes at her tears, carefully played up for the camera, much like she’d done in the past when he’d come from meeting with Ransom’s wife to go over what she would say on the stand. There was a sense of competition there that Andy could never understand, the way she would be cold to Ransom’s wife one minute and then cordial the next when Ransom was there – to the point where when Andy called her out on her behavior, she would break down in her tears, expressing her stress over the entire trial, never taking responsibility for her actions.

He isn’t surprised to see her well thought out acting, right down to the harassment that she endures, still taking no accountability over what she had done. He knows much about your fans and how devoted they are to you and the great lengths they will go to show you. When Phillip Benedict claimed to have an early copy of your book, his site was hacked, temporarily offline until your book was released.

The power in numbers and faceless names on the internet made it seem like you were untouchable, enough for Andy to even begin to wonder if you were real. Sure, your pictures were in a magazine, glossy and high definition right down to the beauty marks on your beautiful face. But the articles often fell flat, never touching on who you were, let alone the person behind the books. Always a carefully crafted persona, one that Andy believed was curated to be palatable. You’d been careful about not sharing your designation, something Andy had never been interested in before he had seen the comment on your Twitter.

It had been worth looking into, saving countless articles and clicking through various sites until he figured out that you were hiding what you were. Long weeks without updates on your books, popping up to do book signings, only to cancel them abruptly. All signs had led to you being an Omega but he had never put two and two together.

It had all made sense afterwards.

“…I want to come forward to say that my claim of him sleeping with someone is false. I understand and take full responsibility for what I’ve done, for the pain that I have caused both my husband and her.”

Andy narrows his eyes at the mention of you, remembering how he could smell your scent on her skin. It didn’t feel right, knowing that she was masquerading as you, enough for him to close his eyes and know that despite your heavenly scent, it was still Laurie underneath him. Perhaps that was the deception that hurt most of all. Knowing that he’d spent his college days with Laurie, happy in the fact that he was going to grow old with someone who said she never cared what his designation was, only to begin to point out her flaws that Andy never saw as negatives in the first place.

Still, as much as he’d been around Omegas, he’d been up and close with Ransom’s wife for most of the time that Laurie was going through her whirlwind of emotions. With Ransom out on bail, his second home was the Drysdale household, keeping Ransom’s Omega at bay as Austin’s family came out swinging with allegations that painted Ransom as an attacker.

“She has a husband, you know,” Laurie murmurs, sliding into bed as Andy puts down his book. “I don’t understand why you need to be there all the time.”

“It isn’t all the time and I know she has a husband. I have a wife, too,” Andy reminds her, wishing he could finish his book without arguing. “But Ransom’s wife is pregnant and the stress isn’t good for her.”

“You don’t need to remind me of that.”

“Laurie, come on, this isn’t fair.”

“I know it isn’t fair,” Laurie sniffs, her back to Andy. “I’ve tried to make sure that we stick together during this case. It’s all over the news, Andy. You have fans because you make Ransom look like a hero.”

“He didn’t do anything I wouldn’t have done if it had been you.”

“Right,” Laurie sighs, covering her face with her hands. “But I’m not her designation, which is why you’re having to go through this process.”

“We are going through this process because another Alpha tried to forcibly mate his wife and then get rid of their son. It’s a Class A Felony under our designation laws.”

“I wouldn’t know anything about that.”

Andy sighs, turning off the light as he settles into bed.

“I don’t expect you to understand why this case is so important but if the issue is that I am spending a lot of time in their household, I can change that.”

“No,” Laurie argues, wiping a tear away. “I just hate the fact I can still smell her on you.”

“Nothing is happening,” Andy tells her, his voice full of determination. “I would never do that nor would she. She needs both myself and Ransom in her corner when she takes the stand next week. Being pregnant is enough stress, I want to make sure she feels supported.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m going to be smelling her scent for hours.”

After a moment, Andy gets out of bed, heading to the en suite to shower as Laurie groans at her outburst, covering her face with her hands as she begins to cry.

The comments on Laurie’s post aren’t kind. Many of them still attacking her for making the initial post in the first place, pointing out that three of your fan sites were closed due to her allegations, calling for Laurie to delete her social media altogether and to find a better hobby. Mixed in between are death threats and mocking her marriage, something Andy reads slowly as comments begin to gather under one post.

So you make it all up and for what? To get clicks and likes? That’s pathetic as it is, let alone dragging her into the mix when she didn’t do a damn thing. You deserve everything you get. I hope your husband does find her eventually. Pathetic.

He focuses in on that statement, one where it gets him wondering. He heard you, knows you’re close by somewhere. The semblance of respect is still visible, enough for him to know he needed to stay put. For once, your fan sites were correct.

He just hadn’t expected the accuracy.

Despite his logical mind, the primal part of him wonders how you’d taste, remembering the picture someone had snapped of you at a book signing, your mating gland on display, raised enough that he’d known you’d be in heat within days.

And like clockwork, your last book signings had been rescheduled for another date.

His tongue presses against his canines, almost to the point of drawing blood. He wants to feel it between his teeth, tethering you to him for eternity, hearing your soft whimpers under him. Blood thrums in his veins at the visualization, something he’s been thinking about since he stepped foot into the cabin.

Andy shouldn’t think about it, especially since he knows your hesitation around his designation, let alone the idea of being that intimate with you when he barely knows you. Logic can win out when he forces himself to think about it, knowing that he is physically at least a mile away from you and that currently there is nothing he can do but wish for such a moment.

Laurie continues to cry on camera when he goes back to the video, disdain flowing through him before he turns off the video. It’s carefully rehearsed, right down to the light that shines in her eyes. She’d wanted the spotlight and now she had it, unable to take the heat of her slander that she was now backtracking from.

“Pathetic,” Andy murmurs, placing down his phone as he peels off his shirt, tossing it to the ground.

Opening the doors to the balcony, cool air rushes in, cooling off his heated skin as he leans against the railing. It’s silent, the air still with the occasional scurry of an animal through the woods.

He’s willfully ignoring the hard on that hasn’t gone away since he’s been awake, closing his eyes as the moonlight shines down on his glistening skin. The hindbrain that floats to the top doesn’t like that he’s ignoring what should be natural. He’s grateful that Laurie isn’t here, knowing that the desire he has would do nothing but hurt her as he slightly bares his teeth at the sensation of what it would feel like to be inside you. Knowing that you would be able to take the stretch of him, his head hanging down as he blows out a breath, shaking his head. It’s too much to think about but he can’t help it.

Shaking his head, he heads back inside, opening up the book as he picks up from where he left off, stopping for a moment to look at the flow of your handwriting. The scent has almost faded but it’s still there, enough for him to remember when it was full strength, closing his eyes as he wills away another thought of how you would look on top of him, stuffed full of him, claiming bite on display as he forces himself to continue the paragraph.

But the more he thinks of you, the more his hindbrain gets louder.

Harder to ignore.

“Mr. Syverson is not pleased that this situation was made public,” Neal Loguidice begins, his voice low in a warning tone. “It was our understanding that this was not going to be shared for public consumption. I need to ask where you got your source of information.”

Phillip’s smirk cannot be seen on the other end of the phone but it’s one of victory, just by who is on the other line.

“Mr. Loguidice, I understand your need to protect your client. You have a habit of taking on unsavory Alphas, don’t you? Austin Stryker was one of yours, would I be correct in that statement? Was as in past tense, seeing as Ransom Drysdale killed him in broad daylight. Couldn’t get a sentence to stick for that,” Phillip reminds him dryly. “And yet you want me to reveal the source of my information? I think I’ll pass on that.”

“We’ll sue,” Neal continues. “As you are aware, the details of the situation surrounding Mr. Svyerson and her were kept private.”

“I’m sure they were, considering he was a creep.”

He can hear Neal’s sigh of annoyance as he pours himself another drink.

“Mr. Benedict, you have three days to take down that post or we continue with our proceedings. Your choice.”

“I choose victory,” Phillip says with a smile, getting ready to hang up the call. “Have a good day, Mr. Loguidice.”

“If this is a game you want to play -”

Phillip hangs up the phone, taking a long sip of his drink as he settles back into his chair. He knows he’ll win the case, especially since Neal is still licking his wounds of losing the case that he had been banking his entire career on.

She knows she shouldn’t check. Even if her finger hovers over Andy’s contact, the repercussions should be enough for her to talk herself off the ledge. She does it anyway, checking to see if his location is still turned on, visible for her to see.

It isn’t.

Nervousness bubbles up in her chest, her eyes fixated on the empty space where his location used to be. Deep down, she knows that she didn’t expect him to keep it on. It was always for more of a reassurance for her, to know that he was somewhere safe. The lack of knowing where he could be still makes her uncomfortable, enough for her to idly scroll past the pictures they used to share until she pauses at the thought.

It's fleeting, but one that sticks in her mind as she opens her laptop.

Looks like his car, right? Anyone got photos from when he was leaving the trial? It’s an Audi, same make as the one he drives.

Oh my god, can you imagine if they are together at the cabin?!

The coincidences are too uncanny, Laurie continuing to scroll, to take in any additional information as theories continue. It’s almost like a drug, getting high off the adrenaline as she takes it all in, gaze pausing at the guesses that Andy Barber may be in the same place as you, the secret woman that she has always been so worried about.

Yeah, that’s his car. License plate and all.

OH SHIT, THIS IS HAPPENING.

Slamming down the laptop, Laurie blinks away hot tears that burn at her eyes, shaking her head as she rocks herself back and forth in the chair. This shouldn’t be happening, not after her apology to the masses.

Dialing Andy’s number, it goes to voicemail, making her suspicions that much easier to dwell in. So many thoughts, so many little moments that she can pinpoint that could explain why he’s there – with you, no less – and that makes her begin to spiral, grabbing her keys off the hook as she continues to scroll on her phone. There’s no address, a cardinal rule that she was once thankful for but blindly seethes at the fake privacy on the boards that she frequents. All she knows is the area, enough for her to know exactly how to get there and seek out Andy to get the truth.

“Andy, I need you to tell me you aren’t in that cabin, okay?” Laurie says, leaving a heated voicemail as she opens the garage, swallowing back her tears. “Tell me that you aren’t there with her and that you didn’t lie to me about knowing her prior.”

Hanging up, she slips into the driver’s seat, hanging her head for a moment before she pounds the steering wheel with a tight fist.

“Damn it!” Laurie sobs, wiping her eyes.

It will take approximately three hours to get to her destination.

Enough time for her to know the truth.

398 notes · View notes

squishqueen19 · 2 years

Text

So do we have to worry about Christine as well? Bc I’m honestly getting some uncertainty vibes from her and a bit from Angie

raconteur - part three

Word Count: 7.5K

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, language, manipulation, mentions of divorce, knotting, parasocial relationship(s), depression, scenting, unwanted touching, harassment, social media toxicity, anxiety mentions, talk of past non-con/dub-con (rut), stalking, aggressive behavior, Alpha/Omega dynamics, Alpha/Beta dynamics.

Series Masterlist

Dark Alpha! Andy Barber x Omega! Female Writer

Summary | Being a beloved best selling writer, you've kept your mysterious persona guarded well, until a comment on a social media post catches the attention of one of your most devoted readers.

“I’m worried.”

Swiveling in her chair to look at the time, Angie frowns at the clock, hearing Christine’s fingernails tap in a staccato that makes her wince at the sound. It’s never a good sign when Christine calls early in the day, especially with the concern in her voice.

“Worried about what?” Angie muses, scrolling through her emails. “The meet and greet went well, she’s well on her way to writing another best seller -”

“You haven’t seen it yet? It’s bad, Angela.”

“Angela,” Angie laments with a roll of her eyes, leaning back in her chair. “Using my legal name. This must be trouble. What crisis are we in now? I’ve been in meetings all morning, I haven’t had a chance to look at anything.”

“I just sent it to you.”

Notifications pop up within seconds, Angie looking at the various screenshots from various social media sites, including a video of Laurie Barber, including an additional screenshot of a post from Phillip Benedict.

“What is this?”

“That,” Christine huffs, the sound of her slamming her drawer closed getting Angie’s attention. “Is Laurie Barber having a breakdown over her husband leaving her on social media. She’s accusing Andy of having an affair and not just with anyone.”

The video plays, your name on Laurie’s lips as screenshots from the comments are attached, commenters apologizing for what Laurie is going through while they insult you. Some of the comments defend you, asking for proof.

“It’s a scorned woman,” Angie advises her. “It’ll blow over. What husband hasn’t had a crush on someone else in their marriage?”

“It’s more than that,” Christine snaps. “Look at Phillip’s post.”

Angie reads the words, swallowing hard at the narrative he’s painting. It’s one of feigned shock, the rumor reaching him as he poses a question to his many followers – his Alpha followers – if this has been a ruse the entire time, blacklisting his designation, Andy Barber working behind the scenes to make sure you stay compliant and keep away from his competition. ‘Not that I believed for a minute that she was sincere about her fear of Alphas,’ Phillip writes, emphasizing the word fear. ‘But that all along, she’s been what we have always known her to be: a credit to her designation who falls in line with what her mate says. It is just a pity that she had to wreck a home in order for us to find out this information.’

“Shut it down,” Angie commands, her hand shaking as she places her phone down. “Does she know?”

“I’m trying and I have no idea if she knows, I haven’t spoken to her since yesterday morning,” Christine hisses into the phone. “The fan sites are going insane. I clear up one rumor, another takes its place. It’s spreading like wildfire. None of it is true, right Angie?”

“Of course it isn’t true! She would never do such a thing! She…” Angie trails off for a moment, knowing that this will rile you up more than you already are when it comes to social media. “You need to kill this story. I don’t know how you do it, but it needs to be done. If she finds out about this, it won’t be good for any of us.”

“Won’t be good as in, what?”

“This won’t just hurt her career,” Angie says quietly. “This could devastate her personally. I’ll speak to Phillip myself but you need to take care of Laurie. I don’t care how long it takes, make her redact her statement, put out an apology. Hell, make her create another video with her crocodile tears as she says she was wrong abut lying but this needs to stop. We both saw her at the book signing, there was no sign of Andy from what I recall. Put out your own statement if you need to.”

“I’m on it,” Christine affirms, silence falling between them both. “And if she finds out before we make it go away?”

“You better hope that she doesn’t.”

“Phillip, we need to talk,” Angie says quietly, Phillip gazing over his drink, raising a curious eyebrow.

Angie knows that this meeting was called as a priority, Phillip believing that she had more ideas to sell him about your upcoming events. It’s bad enough you’ve disappeared into the woods to write your new book, Phillip less than happy that you would not be in attendance with his Alpha reading group, despite what Angie had promised him weeks prior.

“I thought this was a social call. Shame on you, Angela,” he teases, settling back into his seat. “What’s on your mind?”

“Your post,” Angie begins, a smirk spreading across his lips. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. You were present at the book signing. If Andy Barber was truly with her, wouldn’t Laurie know? Wouldn’t he have been in attendance, judging by that awful rumor? Laurie bought the book and scented it herself inside the store after she signed it. Christine told me she saw her with her own two eyes. You know what you wrote isn’t true.”

“What isn’t true? That she’s been lying this entire time about her fear of Alphas? Oh, Angela, what is truth these days, anyway?”

“Her experiences -”

“Are what? We never hear about them,” Phillip interrupts, his voice raising slightly. “Only that for years, she’s made sure my kind come nowhere near her. I understand traumatic events, Angela. But not once have I heard a single thing of what Alphas have done to her. It’s poetic justice, in a sense, seeing this rumor come out in such a wicked way.”

“What I’m going to tell you has to be off the record. But,” Angie pauses, looking straight into his eyes as she points a finger at him. “You retract your story. You tell your followers that it wasn’t true. Come up with some moment of painful remembrance of how when you felt you were excluded, you thought you found some truth in the story because of her unwillingness to let Alphas be around her and now that you saw her up close in person, you can never believe she would do such a thing. Remind them of who she truly is.”

Phillip leans forward, placing his glass on the coaster.

“I’m intrigued,” he purrs. “We have a deal. What is this story? It better be good.”

“I don’t like the fact that my book is being used as propaganda,” you mutter to Angie, her arm around your shoulders while she ushers you into the small space, carefully placed rows of folding chairs in front of your table. “This book is about a soldier who goes against everything he’s taught. That’s the whole point of the book. He stops being a soldier.”

“It isn’t propaganda,” Angie silences you, giving you a little nudge forward, seemingly brushing off your discomfort. “They’ve been waiting for this for months. I understand that the venue change is hard to adjust but it’s for a good cause. They’re donating your books to veterans and they’re making a donation in your name. It’s good press.”

“I don’t care if it’s good press, Angie. It feels wrong,” you murmur, looking over your shoulder to see if anyone is behind you, your senses heightened. “And you didn’t give me the list of designations that will be present like I asked.”

“You’re just starting out,” Angie reminds you with a stern look. “This book can make or break you, it all depends on how you interact with the public. It would look bad if we had a manifest of every designation in the room on hand. It would make you look paranoid and we can’t have that from an up and coming writer, can we?”

At your silence, Angie straightens her jacket, giving you a soft squeeze on the shoulder.

“It’ll be over before you even know it. They’ve been handpicked anyway,” Angie continues. “Captain Syverson can’t wait to meet you. He’ll be introducing you. At least, I think so, let me confirm. We’ve had so many changes since yesterday.”

Angie looks at her phone, giving you a bright smile when she reads an email, sighing with relief..

“Nothing to worry about,” she reminds you. “He had a previous medical leave. He’ll be here..”

“Medical leave for what?”

“I can’t recall,” Angie murmurs, watching you settle into your chair. “I’ll go find him, stay put.”

At the close of the doors, you’re alone, looking around the brightly lit space, filled with posters of servicepeople in uniform. It seems welcoming at least, the snack table filled with various appetizers and various bottles of water and soda. At the door opening, you expect to see Angie but find a big man in her place.

“Hello,” he greets you, striding toward you as if he has all the time in the world, confident and strong as he slows his steps as he gets close to you. “I thought I’d have to contend with your handler. Looks like it’s just you and I for the moment. Lucky me.”

You swallow at the sight of him. He’s not just an Alpha but he’s big, towering over you as his hands settle on your table, his scent seeping into your senses. It’s a rich mix of cedar, mint and bergamot, thick as the intensity of his scent makes you uneasy..

“It’s nice to meet you,” he says with a wide smile. “Captain Syverson.”

“Hello,” you answer meekly, his hand extended for you to shake it. You’re slow to react, his thumb sliding against your wrist as he shakes your hand, lingering for a moment as you feel yourself being slightly pulled in his direction. “She didn’t tell me you were an Omega.”

He lets you go, inhaling deeply as he takes a step back, sizing you up.

“I love your work. Everything about it is exquisite. It’s actually surprising, having an Omega around here. Most don’t step foot in places like this,” Syverson notes. “All these empty barracks and wayward Alphas around. Never a good mix for Omegas.”

The door opens, Angie coming in with another Alpha, realizing why this one smells so different than the one approaching you.

It’s because Captain Syverson is in the middle of rut.

“Everything okay?” Angie says with a smile, always cool and collected, even as you grip your hands in your lap. Flashbacks of your father color your thoughts, made worse by how close Syverson is to you.

“We were just getting to know each other. She’s a fantastic author,” Syverson praises, placing his hand on your shoulder, his wrist brushing up against the side of your gland as you react, giving a squeak of alarm as his hand lifts quickly. Angie gives a glare of disapproval his way, Syverson looking at you with look of feigned concern.

“Are you alright? Did I hurt you?”

It’s a question but you can nearly taste his scent, Angie maneuvering herself in between you and the Captain, giving him a polite but warning smile. You know it was done on purpose, Syverson giving a hearty slap on the back to Sergeant Harper, who extends his hand to you as you shake it quickly.

“Very excited to have you here today,” Harper greets you. “Sy wouldn’t shut up about how excited he was you were coming. I’ve told everyone to be on their best behavior.”

Though it sounds genuine, you still can’t help but shake the feeling that Syverson is waiting for something, standing close enough that you can scent nothing else but him. Angie rubs your shoulder as people start to pour into the room. It should feel good to be here. As an up and coming author, these moments are usually few and far between for someone just starting out. You know that this is part of the job but you can’t shake the feeling of dread, Angie motioning for you to smile, Sergeant Harper at your left and Syverson at your right.

Still, you manage to get through your polite and professional introduction, going through your writing process, answering questions even when Syverson interrupts to remind them of who asked a question first, keeping them in line as you stay silent before he tells you to continue.

It’s almost an Alpha command, something that rattles you before a Beta soldier clears her throat.

“I know this is controversial but I didn’t like the ending,” she admits almost sheepishly. “I wanted more but I understood where you were coming from, in the interest of the characters. Do you have any future ideas for a sequel?”

“One day,” you answer with a nod. “I’ve been thinking about it and how it does end a little abruptly but that’s because it’s where their story ends but there are multiple characters that I believe we could continue to delve into.”

“Well,” Angie says after applause. “If there are no further questions, she would love to take a few photos and sign copies of your book.”

It’s a blur of signing books and pictures, Angie carefully directing the pictures so that you aren’t touching any Alphas. It’s polite the way she explains the poses, hands to themselves as you force a smile.

Eventually the crowd thins out to Harper, Syverson, yourself and Angie, Harper cleaning up the snack table while Angie types a message on her cell phone. You sit awkwardly on your chair, overstimulated by the various scents hanging in the air, absentmindedly scratching at your mating gland while you glance at the time.

“Harper,” Syverson says with a snap of his fingers. “I completely forgot that we had a gift for our special guest. Can you grab it for me?”

“Sure thing. I think it’s pretty heavy,” Harper remembers. “Wanna help me, Sy?”

“Angie can go,” Syverson says, your head snapping up at attention as goosebumps cover your arms at his Alpha command, Angie nodding quickly as she follows Harper.

“Be right back,” she tells you. “Then we can head out.”

“Did you have a good time?” Syverson asks as the door closes behind Angie. “You seemed little… skittish.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“Oh, but I did,” he replies, hands behind his back as he circles you, his scent thick in the air. “I don’t usually do book clubs but I thought, why not? Why not give a writer some space to talk about their work? Especially since I’d worked with Angie in the past. She was raving about you and your work. Gave me a copy of your book. Couldn’t stop reading it. You truly have a gift.”

“Thank you.”

Your gratitude is given with a tight nod, your supplies put away in the backpack that you hold on your lap tightly like a shield.He stops hovering, pausing for a moment as his voice gets lower.

“Forgive me but I can’t help but notice that your scent got stronger.”

“It didn’t,” you reply tersely.

“Oh? Because I anytime I inhale, all I can scent is you,” Syverson says, bending down so he is close to your ear, your body shrinking as he pauses. “And I would love a taste. Pretty little Omega like you? So docile and quiet. Who needs an army barrack when I have this table?”

His large hand wraps behind your neck right the door opens, Harper holding the heavy gift box as Angie stops in her tracks at the sight of you, Syverson moving away from you as you tremble, clutching your backpack.

“Harper, can you help us get it to the car?” Angie asks him.

“No,” comes your reply, soft but determined as you pop up from your chair. “I don’t need the help.”

You push past her, head down as Angie follows behind closely.

“What happened? Are you alright? Tell me.”

“No,” you snap, scratching harder at your mating gland. “I want to go home. Now.”

“Something happened,” Angie presses, Harper following behind, looking at you with concern.

“I don’t want it,” you whisper, a shiver going down your spine again. “Tell him to keep it.”

“It’s a gift,” Angie urges. “Harper, put it in the trunk, please? It’s been a long day, I’m sure you can understand.”

“Is everything okay?” Sergeant Harper asks as you back away from him.

“Fine,” Angie soothes, opening the door for you. “Thank you so much for your generosity.”

The ride back to your apartment is silent, your hand rubbing the back of your neck before you scratch your mating gland, tearing your hand away before you blink back tears.

“No more Alphas,” you order. “I don’t want them around me. Ever.”

“Understood,” Angie agrees, reaching out to touch you before you turn away from her. “No more Alphas. You have my word.”

“It took her two years to tell me what happened,” Angie says quietly. “I hope this clears things up.”

“Fascinating,” Phillip says, his eyes wide with curiosity. “And here I thought Captain Syverson had retired on his own. It makes so much more sense that the good Captain has kept quiet over the years. You’re so much smarter than they give you credit for, Angela. Awful story about her. I have a heart, after all. Consider my retraction in the works.”

Angie stands, shaking his hand before she departs, a sense of guilt in her belly that she told the one secret that she promised she would always keep.

It’s addicting, clicking every single comment that appears on her video since Phillip Benedict posted his apology. Laurie knows she should be asleep, the kitchen clock showing 3:17 AM, hours burning at the blink of an eye. What started out as solidarity for her has shifted, the powerful Alpha blogger using his followers to attack her, many of them linking his apology post to you in their comments. The insults range from shallow to nearly devastating, including dredging up her divorce papers that Andy had filed that were supposed to be private.

Even if they were sleeping together, she’ll always be an Omega and you’ll always be a Beta. Deal with it.

In the waves of death threats and wishing harm, she continues to click through each faceless comment, searching in vain for what supporters she has left. Phillip’s post has overtaken social media, notifications popping up left and right as he calls for ‘level headedness over an over dramatic Beta who used her acting skills to garner sympathy over a failed marriage’ citing his apology to you ‘as a way to heal both the Alpha community for feeling slighted and you, for making amends despite the horrendous behavior you received at the hands of one years ago’.

How sick. Trying to drag her down with you when she was harassed years ago. Get a life.

Slamming down the lid of her laptop, Laurie covers her face before she groans. Tears don’t come as quickly as they did days prior, the house seemingly swallowing her whole without Andy present to check on her.

Too much time spent going down rabbit holes has given way to paranoia, Laurie lifting the laptop back open, furiously typing in her password as she searches for your fan blogs, many of them voicing their support of you, linking Phillip’s post. One major fan blog calls for peace, citing that you would never condone the attacks on Laurie Barber, let alone insert yourself into the discussion that has never been about you while voicing disgust that Phillip would share such a personal story with his followers.

It's been days since she’s showered, still in her pajamas as she tugs the hair tie out of her hair, lifting herself up from the table, the laptop glowing in the darkness.

Stepping into the shower, she looks around at her collection of body washes, creams and lotions on the counter. Once upon a time, she’d sneak a little of his cologne onto her blouses before she went to work. Akin to an Omega whose biology would keep their Alphas scent on their skin before she shakes her head. She knows she will never be one, never have that scent on her like your designation would.

Her therapist would be fuming if she saw how far she’s continued down this path, despite the warnings that she needs to work on herself, get off social media and as her therapist so lovingly called it, ‘touch grass’ to get back in tune with herself. The pull is too strong, magnetic enough for her to understand that every minute she’s away from it, more narratives, more insults will come and she’s become addicted to seeing who is right, even if she is the one living the truth.

Scrubbing her hair, she makes a promise that she won’t look at it any further. Instant celebrity status means no matter what she posts, she’ll always be the angry ex-wife of Andy Barber and the thought makes her grit her teeth, standing under the showerhead as the water washes over her.

In days, Andy will be in full blown rut, something Laurie had come to despise, knowing that she would never be enough physically for him, even if he never told her so. You were an easy target, Laurie surmises, wondering if you are even aware of the fandom discourse that is taking place.

Most likely not, as her research after her outburst portrayed you more as a reclusive writer, shying away from social media as a whole. Articles on your personal life were sparse, save for the one where you mentioned adopting an emotional support dog for your social anxiety.

It was easier to utilize you as the scapegoat in the dissolution of her marriage, a nameless face that was a quiet mistress to Andy, keeping him up at all hours of the night as he read page by page, listening to podcasts of your work and trying to discuss your books with her. He’d tried to get her involved with his interests, something Laurie would dismiss if it did not interest her personally.

For Laurie, Andy’s obsession with your books had become commonplace, something seemingly harmless that allowed her to make little barbs at how devoted he’d become to reading every piece of your work.

It all changed when she saw you in person, reserved and observant at your book signing. There had been rumors of your designation for years, a blip on her radar until she had done more limited reading there was on you. But to her, you were the perfect Omega, gracious to sign a book that her husband loved, soft spoken and kind.

Just like what Andy wanted.

She couldn’t deny the twinge of jealousy at the way you were adored, a celebrity without the fanfare, signing books and engaging with every person who gushed over your books. In the heat of the moment, trying in vain to match your scent, the dismissal hurt much worse when Andy rejected her. It wasn’t the fact that your scent was on her. It was the fact it was your scent and not you, something Laurie cringes at, scrubbing her skin harder to get the thought out of her mind.

With divorces, there are no niceties, no gift baskets that say sorry for your loss, even if it feels like she is drowning in her sorrow. It is a loss, one that she feels when she wraps the towel around her, eyeing the various lotions and creams that market to Betas who want to have the appearance and scent of an Omega. The scents never last long but for at least ten minutes, the scent was there, enough for her to wonder what it would be like. Andy hated them, preferring her usual perfume over anything else.

But his pupils dilated for only one person.

Despite the promise to herself, she pads back into the kitchen, turning on the coffee maker as the time reads 4:32 AM, enough time passing so that she has an excuse to make coffee and watch the sun rise and not look at her laptop.

But temptation is strong, promising herself she’ll look once and then not for another week, checking her notifications that finds her back onto one of your fan blogs.

Rumor is that Andy may be getting a cabin where she’s at. Someone said they saw him up there.

It’s a commenter without a face, another user in the void of the internet who could be anyone – a teenager in his mother’s basement trolling, a middle aged woman on her lunch break stirring up trouble – it doesn’t matter, because now she’s invested, going through more comments and commenting on her own with her fake username.

Could be fake. Laurie presses enter, sending the opinion off into the depth of the internet before another user snatches up her quote with a reply of their own.

Can’t decide if that tweet was fake or not but I trust the person. If that’s true, why is Andy up there if they aren’t together? That’s not a coincidence.

Dread counters common sense, Laurie dialing Andy’s number as he answers, his voice thick with sleep.

“Where are you?” she demands, Andy’s groan of disappointment giving her pause. “Are you in the cabin?”

“Cabin? What are you talking about?”

She knows she can’t explain what she’s reading or why she’s upset. It’s bad enough he’s kept his distance and there is a part of her that wants to weep over the fact that he’s still answering her phone calls, a thin line of compassion that is all that is left of what they once had.

“Nothing,” Laurie mutters with a hard sigh.

“It’s almost five in the morning. Why are you awake?”

“I heard you were going somewhere.”

Andy is silent on the other end for a moment.

“In a week or so, yes. I need to be away from everything, Laurie,” Andy informs her. “You know that.”

She knows he’s referring to his rut, the lump in her throat thickening at the thought of him dealing with it alone.

“But you’re at your apartment right now?”

“Yes, why?” His irritation comes out as a slight growl, Laurie backing down immediately.

“Just thinking. Sorry. Go back to bed.”

When he hangs up, she checks the location on his phone, something he hasn’t turned off yet. It shows he’s still in his apartment, Laurie glaring at her laptop before she slams it shut again.

Atlas barks loudly when he’s finished with his walk, leaning against you while you stare at the two paths ahead. The left is the blue path, lined out that your mother had shared with you, the road lined with thick trees. The right path is wide open, a gas station up ahead that makes you shudder at the thought.

“Suppressants and blockers,” your mother says quietly, sitting across the table from you, two plastic packages on the table while you squirm uncomfortably. It feels weird to talk about it, something your mother gently reminds you is normal for your designation, even if you hate the way you smell and how the boys and girls in your class seem to hover over you.

“Do I have to?”

“No,” your mother answers. “It’s your choice. Whatever you decide, we will go with it.”

The raised gland on your neck itches, your nails scratching against it as you squeeze it for a moment, your shoulder jerking forward at the sensation, your mother shaking her head.

“Don’t mess with it,” she admonishes gently. “Otherwise you’ll…”

She looks at the packages on the table once more, frowning at them.

“Otherwise what?” you urge, her hands on the table, clutching her cup of tea.

“I was curious once. Wondering how a bite would feel,” she begins, tilting her neck to the site so that you can see her mating bite. It’s clean, slivery skin that is smooth and distinct. You know no two bite marks are the same as she’s told you before. “That’s how you got here, my sweet baby girl.”

It’s said cheerfully but there’s a hint of something underneath her tone that makes you uneasy, the question on the tip of your tongue that you aren’t sure that you should ask.

“I was supposed to go up to the cabin,” your mother continues, taking a long sip of tea, shaking her head as the cup is placed back down. “My first heat as an adult, the cabin was ready for me and I took a detour. Got a flat tire and had to call for help.”

There’s a pause that you don’t like, her watery smile on display briefly before taking another sip.

“Your father… he came to help me.”

The implication makes your stomach drop, your expression hardening as she quickly realizes what she’s done.

“I’m just saying that you need to be careful and not mess with your gland. The more you keep playing with it, the more curious you’ll be.”

Your mother never finished college, devoting her time to take care of you while your father worked as a tow truck driver for his father until he took over the family business.

“Rut,” you mention. “Like when I was a kid. He used to get upset.”

“It happens,” she replies, coming to your father’s defense. “But you don’t need to worry. I know his rut bothers you and makes you afraid. He would never hurt you.”

“I hate Alphas,” comes your heated reply, your mother silent at the words. “I don’t want the suppressants.”

She places a map in front of you, grabbing a blue highlighter. You know she won’t answer for your father, not even when you ask why your brother was shipped off to work with your grandfather since he presented at twelve.

“Before you know it, you’ll be off to college and I realize now that I never showed you how to get up to the cabin,” your mother reminds herself, changing the subject. “It’s near grandpa’s tow truck station. There’s a fork in the road. Go left.”

Atlas barks again, your head turning to the right at the sight of the building in the distance.

Decades.

That’s how long it’s been since you saw the older Alpha, hands weathered by years of changing flat tires, boosting batteries and towing vehicles.

“You sure you wanna tell her about those woods?” your grandfather asks your mother, sitting on a swing in the backyard of his massive house. “Not that you ever got to see the cabin yourself.”

Atlas pants, licking your hand as you snap back to reality.

“Almost there, buddy,” you remind him, opening the door to the SUV as he climbs up the steps and settles into the backseat. “We’ll be there before you know it.”

Without hesitation, you go left, letting any fleeting desire you have of seeing your grandfather dissipate as you continue down the road.

“Drysdale,” Andy greets, his baseball cap over his brow. “Need something?”

“Barber,” Ransom answers. “I’m making sure you’re okay. I saw the shit with Laurie, what a fucking mess that was.”

Andy can hear his wife’s admonishment at his swearing, Ransom’s tone lightning.

“Seriously though, are you okay? I know I was never a fan of Laurie but I didn’t think she’d stoop that low, you know? Didn’t see you put out a statement or anything.”

“Didn’t need to,” Andy replies. “It’s false anyway but I was linked to that Phillip Benedict post.”

“He’s a piece of shit too,” Ransom mutters, her voice in the background again. “Sorry! Hold on, let me go outside.”

Andy shakes his head at the commotion, a sense of longing at the idea of Ransom’s Omega scolding him for swearing around their baby. He wonders what it would be like to have that sort of connection, the fleeting thought of what it would be like to have you doing the same, protective of your children as Omegas are known for.

At the close of a door, Ransom breathes a sigh of relief at his freedom.

“Jensen’s starting to babble and she swears that he’ll pick up a bad word,” Ransom explains sheepishly. “She knows best, I guess.”

“I’m fine, actually,” Andy promises. “She actually signed a book for me.”

“You went? Holy shit, I thought you said you weren’t going to go.”

“I didn’t. Laurie went for me.”

“That’s creepy,” Ransom announces. “Why did she go anyway? You told me she hates those books.”

“It was a present,” Andy informs him. “She signed her book for me. I wrote her a nice note a few days ago.”

“She ever respond?”

“She’s writing a book,” Andy replies. “A new one and she’s actually writing it in some cabin.”

“Good. She needs to be away from all the nutcases. Her fans are blowing up social media, by the way. I guess I’m invested too with all this drama. It’s been trending for days, that post by Phillip and then Laurie staying quiet. Not a good look for her, you know?”

“Probably laying low. She got paranoid that I was with her.”

“No fucking way.”

“Too much time on the internet will do that to you. Makes anything you write seem like the truth.”

“Christ, she needs to go touch some goddamn grass. How are you feeling, anyway?”

Andy runs his tongue over his canines, his mouth watering slightly at the thought of you. You keep invading his mind, little bits and pieces of you filed away for him to think about on the drive.

“Better, but my rut is coming so I’m heading up north for a bit.”

“North? Alone?”

“Better that way,” Andy answers him. “I get a little anxious around people. A little territorial.”

“Just take care of yourself. And do yourself a favor and don’t look at any of those posts. They’re brutal.”

Laurie Barber looks nothing like the out of control woman that had been inconsolable that fateful afternoon when she had cried on camera. Christine narrows her eyes at the woman behind the fiasco that has caused her to already shut down three fan sites and four more to follow.

“Normally I would have our lawyers do this,” Christine begins, Laurie’s hands folded on the table. “But for my own sake, I wanted to make sure I did this in person.”

“What do you want?” Laurie’s voice is cool. Calm and collected, as if she hadn’t embarrassed herself in front of millions of people.

“An apology,” Christine answers. “Written or in a video, I don’t care but it needs to be done.”

“People are threatening my life,” Laurie seethes. “If I do that, they’ll continue to abuse me. Have you seen what they’ve been writing online? I get death threats!”

“I’m not the weirdo who sniffed a book after it was signed. That was all you, Laurie. You had the nerve to create a story about her scent that you yourself made up. I saw it myself.”

“It was in the heat of the moment. I didn’t realize what I was doing until it happened and I didn’t expect you to see.”

“But you saw her,” Christine snaps. “I know you did because you didn’t break eye contact. I don’t know what sort of Beta goes around sniffing books for an Omega’s scent but whatever floats your boat. You could have left your weirdness at the door.”

“I was upset when I filmed that video,” Laurie decries. “I was having a moment and I needed to get it out. I didn’t expect any of this. They’re coming to my job, demanding I apologize. I don’t know these people.”

“I need you to understand that you started this. This entire ordeal would never have happened had you kept your mouth shut and just kept your divorce quiet. I am here because your narrative is incorrect and wrong, putting my client in direct harm’s way because a bunch of armchair warriors decided that she was a homewrecker. You fix this now or so help me, I’ll lobby everything I can throw at you until you disappear.”

Laurie is silent, Christine tapping her nails on the table rapidly as she waits for an answer.

“What would I need to say?”

“Tell the truth. You scented that book, you told the world your husband was having an affair with a world famous author who barely knows who he is and it’s utter bullshit. You have six hours to fix it or else we do a cease-and-desist letter before we sue for slander. Your choice.”

Laurie looks down at her arms, sighing as she nods.

“Okay. I’ll have it up in a few.”

“Good,” Christine huffs, getting up from her chair. “Don’t you ever mention her name again.”

“Can I help you, son?”

An older Alpha peers up from his newspaper, raising a curious eyebrow as Andy stands in front of the desk.

“I got something wrong with my car. Would you mind taking a look?”

“You need a tow or somethin’?”

“No idea,” he says as the older Alpha gets up. “I’m just heading through and my car started acting a little sluggish.”

The Alpha pushes open the door, Andy following behind before he takes a final look at the building. The chair he was sitting in is one that he remembers in a fan post. It was stolen from your private archive, you as a teenager listening to your grandfather as he pointed out collection of racing cars. It’s a private photo, one where you aren’t smiling, a thousand different theories of why you look unhappy, none of the commenters caring that the photo was lifted from somewhere.

The building looks the exact same, the cool air biting at his skin as the Alpha lifts the hood, inspecting it.

“You goin’ far?”

“Not too far,” Andy answers. “I have a cabin a little ways up.”

“Ah,” he responds, calling out as a younger Alpha comes out from the back entrance, wiping his hands on a towel. “My eyes aren’t what they used to be. My grandson will take a look for you.”

The younger Alpha looks like you, right down to the eyes as he moves to inspect it, a dark tattoo on his wrist that Andy surveys with interest.

“Don’t get a lot of Alphas out here hiding out,” the older Alpha mentions. “My granddaughter has a cabin up here, a few miles away.”

“It’s nice up here. I could use some peace and quiet.”

“Don’t blame you,” the younger Alpha says, clicking on a flashlight he produces from his pocket to inspect the engine. “I like being alone myself. So does my sister. Been years since I’ve seen her, anyway.”

“That’s a shame,” Andy says carefully, the younger Alpha slamming the hood down. “Family should be forever.”

“We used to get into some pretty big fights when I presented,” the younger Alpha says with a smirk. “I won every time.”

The sound of the pride in his voice makes Andy’s hands roll into fists. He’s done his research on your brother, a recent parolee that was saved from juvenile hall, bailed out by his father and grandfather. A wayward Alpha in his early teens, your father seemed to ignore the signs of building aggression until you had moved out at eighteen. Your brother was arrested at thirteen for burglary and resisting arrest, facing years of prison time before your father had pulled a few strings to free him.

Looking at your grandfather and brother, Andy knows he could fix this. Take you away from all of this misery and sadness that your brother caused. It’s little wonder why your books are so vivid and full of violent imagery.

He doesn’t want to know what you’ve seen that has allowed you to have such a brilliant talent.

“Looks like there was some residue,” the younger Alpha says, wiping his hands again. “Should be fine now.”

“How much do I owe you?”

“Ah,” the older Alpha speaks up, waving his hand. “Alpha to Alpha? Nothing. Get back on the road, son.”

“Thanks,” Andy says with a smile. “I appreciate it.”

Getting into his car, he looks over at the two Alphas who head back inside. It feels almost like meeting family, Andy picking out one of the characters in your story as your grandfather, right down to the weathered hands and slight limp. That particular character was never his favorite, a man with a mean streak who double crossed his own family.

As they fade into the distance, he can feel himself getting hot, pulling off his sweater as his white undershirt remains, wiping his brow. He’s getting antsy and he knows it, your book in the passenger seat that remains untouched for now.

He’ll read it again when he gets to his cabin, wondering if he can pick out if your brother is portrayed in this book like your grandfather was once, now that he’s gotten a look at him.

His tongue presses into his canines, throbbing at the sensation as he swallows thickly at the idea of sinking his teeth into your neck. The intensity gets him hard, enough for him to realize that continuing to think about you will only mean he’ll have to pull over and finish with his hand. He doesn't want to waste a single drop, not to mention that he can't bring himself to get off on the side of the road like a madman.

Your voice in your audiobook of your third short story calms him, your sweet voice weaving a tale of a relentless man in search of his lover.

It’s one of his favorites, the longing coming through even more with each word you speak, the dialogue so poignant that he mouths along as he begins the winding climb up to his cabin.

You’re looking outside at the car that goes past your cabin. The same one you’ve seen the earlier two days ago.

Maybe another soul that needs silence in a drive up through the woods.

Maybe even - despite what your therapist says - it’s a fan that dug hard enough to find where you are.

You stopped worrying about those types. The ones that thought they knew you through and through, making up stories about your personal life that they swore bled into your books.

It can’t be, you tell yourself, closing the blinds that enshroud you in darkness as the sun begins to set, the warm glow of your laptop inviting you back to the couch. Sinking back into the couch cushions, you take a sip of your hot chocolate, clicking on the email from Andy Barber, rereading the complimentary note again. It’s respectful, short and sweet. You haven’t answered yet but you know you should.

After all, Andy Barber is a busy man and to take time out of his schedule means he deserves a reply. The name sounds so familiar that you almost search before you finish up a final paragraph of the first chapter, getting lost in the dialogue before you realize your email reply to him is still unsent.

It takes less than two minutes to send him a note before you begin your next chapter, Atlas placing his paw on your lap as he whines.

You can’t help but smile at his puppy dog eyes, giving an excited bark when you close your laptop, getting up as he bounds to the door.

“One little walk before it gets dark,” you promise him.

Atlas takes off running while you lock the door, following behind him as you stretch. The golden hour is beautiful, even if it’s cold enough for you to slightly shiver, your core cramping slightly as you know your impending heat will come any day now. You’re prepared for it, the items for your nest at the ready.

You follow Atlas up the trail, the big dog climbing higher as you keep track of him. He scents something, taking off as you run behind him.

Andy surveys the cabin, placing his groceries onto the island counter. It’s larger than he expected it to be, large windows letting in the last streams of sunlight into the living room. He snaps a few pictures, uploading them to his private account as he continues through the house.

Opening the balcony doors, he hears a dog barking, faint but enough for him to notice, searching for any sign of it.

The rolling hills paint a perfect backdrop, the fall colors crisp in his photo that he takes, looking around at the giant bed. It’ll be enough for when he tosses and turns in his sleep. Sleep eludes him when he’s in full rut, going days without sleep because he can’t get relief, no matter how hard he’s tried.

His phone buzzes when he finally opens his email, your name popping up as his heartbeat quickens. You’ve responded to his note, giving him a polite and complimentary thank you for taking the time out of his day to write to you. The words feel personal, enough for him to reread them twice before he stands out on the balcony, taking in the fresh air as he hears a familiar voice. Still faint but enough for him to know it.

“Atlas! Let’s go home!”

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