The locks slide into place with a sound that feels permanent.
Not loud. Not violent. Just final.
Alexander doesn’t say house arrest. He says supervision, like it’s a favor. Like he didn’t just legally cage me inside the penthouse I once called my sanctuary.
“This is for your safety,” he says, tapping the wall panel as soft blue lights come alive. “Pheromone monitors. Real-time tracking. If your levels spike, I’ll know.”
I laugh weakly. “How romantic. My ex-husband as my parole officer.”
He doesn’t smile.
“Every four hours,” he continues, voice professional, controlled, “I’ll administer calming protocols.”
I look at him. “You mean you’ll touch me.”
His jaw tightens. “If necessary.”
The door seals behind Marcus’s holographic projection, leaving the two of us alone in a space that suddenly feels… wrong.
I notice it in pieces.
The absence of the locked medical cabinet where I kept emergency suppressants. The faint, sweet edge in the air—pheromone enhancers laced into the climate system. The kitchen stocked with foods designed to encourage Omega responsiveness.
And then I see the wall.
My breath catches.
Photographs. Dozens of them. Alexander and me—laughing in uniforms, tangled in sheets, standing barefoot in the kitchen of a place we once shared. Our marriage. Our almost-life.
“You redecorated,” I whisper.
“I restored,” he corrects. “You erased us. I didn’t.”
Anger flares, hot and sharp, but my body betrays me again—heat pooling low, pulse fluttering too fast. The monitor on the wall blinks amber.
Alexander notices.
“Sit,” he orders gently.
I hate that my knees obey.
Marcus’s voice crackles through the comm. “Victoria, listen carefully. The chip can be repaired, but it’ll take seventy-two hours. Your biology is unstable.”
“And?” I snap.
“And I need an Alpha pheromone sample as a stabilizer,” he says quietly. “A compatible one.”
Silence.
Alexander’s eyes meet mine. Something unreadable passes between us.
Before either of us can speak, the door slams open.
“Victoria Sterling, you owe me an explanation.”
Sophia stands there, fists clenched, eyes blazing with something that looks like heartbreak.
“You told me Omega women could lead without pretending,” she says, voice shaking. “You told me truth mattered.”
I try to stand. Fail.
“I did lead,” I say hoarsely. “I protected—”
“By lying?” she snaps. “By becoming the thing you said we didn’t need?”
Her words slice deeper than Alexander’s revenge ever could.
“I wanted you safe,” I whisper.
Sophia laughs bitterly. “You made me believe in a fantasy.”
She storms out before I can stop her. Alexander watches the door close, expression dark.
“She’s in danger,” he says finally.
I look up. “What?”
“There’s an extremist group targeting unmarked Omegas,” he admits. “Especially powerful ones. They were watching you. Watching her.”
My chest tightens. “So this—this humiliation—”
“Was the only way to put you under my legal protection,” he finishes. “Before they did worse.”
The monitor flashes red.
My vision blurs. The heat surges, overwhelming, tearing through the last of my control.
Alexander is at my side instantly.
“Breathe,” he murmurs, hands steady on my shoulders. “Look at me.”
“I hate you,” I whisper.
“I know.”
His scent wraps around me—familiar, grounding, dangerous. My body leans into it without permission, craving relief.
“I can do a temporary mark,” he says softly. “It’ll stabilize you. No permanence.”
I hesitate for half a second.
Then nod.
The moment his mouth touches my neck, everything fractures.
Memory. Desire. Regret. His teeth graze skin, not breaking it, just enough to anchor me. My breath shudders. His grip tightens.
For one terrifying moment, I want more. Want to finish what we started years ago. Want to belong.
He pulls back abruptly, forehead resting against mine, breathing hard.
“Not like this,” he says. “Never like this.”
The monitor slowly fades to green.
Outside the door, the world waits to decide who I am now.
Inside, I realize something far worse than exposure has happened.
I’m no longer sure where the lie ended—and where the truth began.