Chapter 6: Something to Hold Onto

The kitchen smelled like toast and regret.

I stared at Mia’s note for the hundredth time, hoping new words would magically appear. Something like “just kidding,” or “here’s a safe address,” or maybe “don’t worry, I’m actually a spy and totally in control.”

But no. Just those short, scared sentences in looping handwriting that tugged too hard at something inside me.

“She’s smart,” Jaxon said from the doorway, arms crossed. “Covered her tracks. I’ve called two shelters and three youth centers. Nothing.”

“She’s a kid,” I muttered. “She shouldn’t have to be smart like that.”

Jaxon leaned against the counter, his brow furrowed like he wanted to punch a wall but knew better than to scare me. “I don’t think she left because of us. I think someone pushed her.”

“I know,” I said quietly. “Which is why I need to do something before I lose my mind.”

“You want to find her?”

“Yes, but…” I paused, glancing down at the envelope that had arrived that morning. “I also need to find me.”

He raised a brow. “What’s that?”

“A job offer,” I said, sliding the paper toward him. “At a youth support center downtown. Someone I met through the shelter forwarded my resume.”

He read it quickly. “Mentorship program for young Omegas?”

I nodded. “They pair volunteers with at-risk Omegas. Help with school, housing, basic confidence. It’s part-time. Nothing flashy. But they want me to start tomorrow.”

A small smile tugged at his mouth. “Let me guess. You said yes.”

“I said maybe,” I admitted. “But now… yeah. I think I need to do this.”

He watched me, quiet for a moment. “Is this because of Mia?”

“It’s because I remember what it felt like,” I said softly. “Being an Omega and having no one to explain what that meant—no one who saw you as anything but a bond or a burden. These girls… they deserve better.”

He stepped closer and touched my hand. “You’re going to be good at it.”

“I hope so,” I said. “Because if I don’t keep moving forward, I’m going to end up back under Cyrus’s shadow. And I can’t do that again.”

“Then let’s get you out of that shadow,” Jaxon said. “Starting with decent shoes. You’re not showing up for your first day looking like someone’s ex-wife on a crime podcast.”

I didn’t expect to like the youth center.

I expected it to smell like fluorescent lighting and bad coffee, with dusty posters about “growth mindsets” peeling off the walls.

Instead, it smelled like vanilla lotion and cheap lavender, with bright bean bags everywhere and a whiteboard that read: “YOU ARE NOT TOO MUCH. YOU ARE ENOUGH.”

It was the first place in months that didn’t make me feel like a broken thing.

“Hey,” a woman said as I walked in. She had soft curls, a calming presence, and a clipboard tucked under one arm. “You must be Elara.”

“That obvious?”

She grinned. “Only because you’re the only one who looked like she considered running back to the parking lot twice.”

I laughed. “Fair.”

“I’m Jules,” she said, leading me toward the side room. “Omega, single mom, unofficial center therapist, and occasional karaoke menace. Welcome to Haven House.”

Inside, three girls sat on a couch, eyeing me like they were sizing up a new substitute teacher.

Jules gestured to them. “Your mentees—if you’re up for it. They’re technically assigned, but if it doesn’t feel like a good fit, we can rotate.”

The girls couldn’t have been older than sixteen.

One wore headphones and didn’t look up. One picked at her nails. The third had fierce green eyes and arms crossed like she was daring me to say something dumb.

“I’m Elara,” I said, sitting across from them. “Omega. I’ve made a lot of mistakes. I’m not here to tell you what to do. I’m just here to be the person I wish I’d had when I was your age.”

They didn’t say anything at first.

Then the fierce one muttered, “You look like someone who used to be rich.”

That made me snort. “I used to be married to someone rich, if that counts.”

The headphone girl cracked a smile.

“So what happened?” the nail-picker asked. “Did you get dumped?”

“No,” I said. “I left.”

“Why?”

“Because I realized being safe and being loved aren’t always the same thing.”

That made them all pause.

Green-eyes tilted her head. “You gonna give us pep talks every week?”

“Only if you want them.”

“And if we don’t?”

“Then we sit here and talk about bad reality TV until you do.”

They exchanged a glance.

And just like that, I wasn’t a stranger anymore.

By the time I got home, my heart felt weirdly full. Like something inside me had uncurled for the first time in a long while.

Jaxon was on the couch, phone in hand.

“How’d it go?” he asked, standing.

“I think I made a good impression,” I said, dropping my bag. “Or at least didn’t get ignored. That’s a win, right?”

He smiled. “I’m proud of you.”

The way he said it, soft and low, made something in me flutter.

I stepped into the kitchen, feeling lighter. “Did anything weird happen while I was gone?”

“Define weird,” he called.

“Unexpected packages, mysterious phone calls, cryptic texts from anonymous numbers?”

He appeared in the doorway, suddenly serious. “No. Why?”

“No reason,” I lied. “Just paranoid.”

But I couldn’t shake the feeling.

Mia’s note. Cyrus’s warning. The fake caseworker.

Something was coming. I just didn’t know from where.

That night, I dreamt of locked doors and flickering lights.

And someone knocking.

Over and over.

The next morning, Jules called.

“We’ve got an emergency,” she said, sounding tense. “One of our girls didn’t show up for curfew last night.”

My stomach flipped. “Who?”

“Ava. The one with the headphones.”

“She seemed fine yesterday…”

“I know. But she’s not answering. Her foster mom filed a missing report. Cops are useless. I thought—” Jules hesitated. “I thought you should know. She liked you.”

I grabbed my coat. “I’m coming in.”

Jaxon raised a brow as I rushed to grab my keys. “What happened?”

“One of the girls is missing.”

“You think it’s connected to Mia?”

“I don’t know,” I said, shoving my arms through my sleeves. “But I can’t just sit here.”

He nodded. “I’ll drive.”

The center was tense when we arrived. Staff whispered in corners. The girls huddled close. It felt like waiting for a storm.

I sat in the side room, staring at Ava’s empty seat.

Then something buzzed.

My phone.

One new message. No name.

Ava made the same mistake you did. Walking away.

If you don’t want more girls to disappear, stop digging.

I stared at it, heart pounding.

Jaxon leaned over my shoulder and read it.

His jaw tightened.

And that’s when we both noticed it.

A folded slip of paper—slipped under the door.

I bent to pick it up.

Inside was a single line:

You’re not the only mentor they’re watching.