Forget : A Dark Omegaverse (Unhingedverse)

One month later

“Aisling, this is your decision, but medical sedation for your heat could be really dangerous,” Dad hisses, as if anyone could hear us outside.

I’ve made it a point now to avoid seeing Hayes since my heat. I’m still waking up to nightmares from it, one more traumatic incident to add to a long line of them.

“Dad, I can’t do it again,” I tell him, shaking my head furiously. “You don’t understand, it was awful. I had a knife and⁠—”

“Fuck!” he yells, rising to his feet and shoving his hands through his hair.

I was dehydrated and incredibly sick after a four day heat. I didn’t think they were supposed to last so long. I don’t even remember my mother going through them.

How did she get through them in our tiny apartment? There are suppressants, but did she find one that only suppressed her heat? It’s almost the two year anniversary of her death, and I still have so many questions I’ll never have answered.

Maybe if I had been older, she’d have felt more comfortable spilling her secrets to me.

“I can’t lose you, Aisling,” Dad snarls.

The door begins to open, and he turns toward it, his face transforming into a mixture of anger and intense grief.

“No! I don’t fucking care what you need, Hayes. I’m in a meeting with my daughter,” he says. “I do not want to be disturbed.”

“What does the little brat need?” Hayes asks, making me shudder.

I haven’t stopped using my alpha pheromone suppressant gel, even though I’m mostly home. It’s the only thing that’s routine in my very fucked up life. I spent so many days doing the same thing over and over that it gave me comfort. Now, nothing about what I eat, my life, or habits are natural, yet.

I can’t get settled. There’s an itch under my skin, and I can’t help but worry that maybe it’s my body telling me my that heat will be coming soon. It feels like it’s too soon, but that’s simply wishful thinking on my part.

“She’s not a brat, and you will be more respectful from now on,” Dad says. “Is that clear? If you’d like to be useful, please call Dr. Fields and ask him to come up to the house. I have a need of his services.”

It’s the middle of December, and the snow is falling gently around the covered deck while I’m warm and toasty under my blankets and surrounding heaters. Christmas will be here before I know it as well. Dad doesn’t want me sleeping out here at night, but a little nap here and there won’t hurt anything.

Even though his home is fully protected, he still worries about me.

“What’s wrong with her?” Hayes growls, making me roll my eyes. It feels dramatic to tell him that his little stunt almost killed me, so I hold back my words. I didn’t know my heat could hit me so hard, and now I know why my ex-roommates chose to find alphas to take care of their needs.

“It’s none of your business,” Dad says. “Now go!”

I shiver as I feel the alpha bark pass over me, and hear the door slam shut a moment later.

“What is with you two?” he asks, and I finally sigh.

“It’s embarrassing,” I admit, to which he rolls his eyes.

“I think we’re past that stage, Aisling?” Dad mutters. “What happened? Do I need to kill him for touching you?”

“No, just my sex toys,” I blurt out before I can help myself. “He stole them when he brought my things upstairs, and then the next morning…”

My father leaves so quickly, I swear I’m left seeing smoke trails. “Fuck,” I mutter.

Pulling my book I brought out here initially to read, I keep myself busy until he slowly walks back out.

“Is he dead?” I ask, telling myself I don’t care one way or another. I’m unsure what Hayes’s problem with me is, but I draw the line at making me beg for death due to his misguided actions.

I have a family, grandparents who are wonderful, and I want to get to know them. I unfortunately also have a cousin named Reagan who is a huge pain in the ass. Dad has had me meeting everyone slowly, yet it still means new people, experiences, and I constantly feel on unsure footing.

Do they like me?

Am I supposed to care?

Dad hides his hands as he sits across from me, but I can see the bruised knuckles.

“He’ll survive,” he grumbles. “Do you want me to fire him?”

“You said you needed him,” I remind my father. “I don’t want to be around him if I can help it. I have enough shitty memories to give me nightmares as it is.”

“Okay,” Dad sighs. “There’s a party next month I’m going to want you to have a guard for. I can make it a beta so he won’t be eligible for the position. I’ll say that you’re more comfortable with them as an unmatched omega. It’s not uncommon for omegas to feel this way.”

“I can’t scent them either way,” I say before I can hold back the words as his gaze intensifies on me. “It’s just a trick I learned while working at the bar, Dad. It’s safe, it blocks the pheromones of alphas. Otherwise, it was overwhelming being surrounded by them all night.”

“I don’t like it,” he grunts finally. “What if you were to meet your scent match and never know?”

“We’re discussing knocking me the fuck out during my heats,” I remind him. “I don’t think I’m capable of even thinking about a scent match right now.”

“Your mom was mine,” Dad rasps. “I was going to ask her to marry me. I wanted to bond with her the second I met her, but she wanted to take it slower, and I understood completely. Even though I got married and tried to move on, it didn’t really work.”

“She never wanted to tell me anything about you,” I whisper, wincing at how that sounds.

“Bea ran from me because she thought it was the right choice,” he says. “I don’t blame her, though I‘m glad I never have to see the lying cunt I call my wife ever again.”

An inappropriate giggle bubbles up that I can’t control, and my dad’s lips twitch. Well, that’s as good as confirmation that the beta is dead. I’ll never admit it to anyone else though. I’m finding that I’m protective of a man who can clearly take care of himself.

“There’s a big family meeting for the mafia bosses next month to decide on a few things,” Dad says. “You can network, talk to people, and maybe even get to threaten Reagan if she gets out of hand.”

He waits for my laughter to subside before continuing, because my cousin has a rude streak a mile wide.

“This meeting is also going to be dangerous, “ Dad admits. “There is some unrest, and there will be some decisions that need to be made on how to squash it. They won’t check the omegas for weapons. I want you armed as much as possible. Go on a shopping spree for all I care, but I want you safe. Do not hesitate to kill if it comes down to it.”

“Done,” I say softly.

Dad nods as he takes a deep breath, checking his phone as I shift in my seat. I haven’t mentioned to him that I’ve been redecorating my closet. I bought a swing that I hung inside there, a large sleeping sack that feels like a cloud, and twinkly lights.

I’ve never felt like nesting before but that’s what this is. I looked it up this morning when I began to feel myself beginning to sweat more than usual too.

“Please tell me that the doctor is on his way,” I tell him, swallowing hard as I start to rub my stomach in worry.

“He just texted me that he’s here. Why?” he asks.

“I think it’s starting soon,” I whimper.

Without hesitation, he gets up and scoops me into his arms, the blanket wrapped around me as he storms into the house.

“Dr. Fields!” Dad roars.

The doctor runs toward the sound of his voice, eyes wide as he lifts his bag. “Yes, Sir,” he says, swallowing hard as he walks next to us, following my dad’s pace.

“I need you to knock my daughter out for three days during her⁠—”

“Four,” I gasp, bending over in pain. I wore scent and slick proof panties today, so I know I’m safe there. “Fuck, it lasted four days last month. Dammit, there’s no way for me to really time these either.”

“They can be unpredictable even for older omegas,” Dr. Fields says. “This is all normal, though your request isn’t one I often get. Are you sure?”

Dad’s feet are pounding up the stairs to my room as he makes sure not to jostle me.

“Yes, I’m sure,” I moan, tears starting to fall as I bite my bottom lip hard. I know it’s only going to get worse, and I’m beyond feeling embarrassed that this is happening in front of my father.

“Do it or I’ll be responsible for explaining to the families why we’re down a doctor,” Dad growls, kicking open the door to my room. “Where do you want to go, Aisling?”

For having been married to a beta for so long, he sure is in tune to an omega’s needs. The thought flutters away as pain washes over me, making me shudder.

“Nest, I mean closet!” I yell, hoping he won’t insist that I need a bed. Even though I’ll be sleeping, something about my nest and an enclosed space with my things is what I want.

“Of course,” Dad mutters, as if it’s only logical. He is handling this better than I would expect most fathers to.

“Will scents be an issue for your nest?” Dr. Fields asks. “May I enter to hook you up to an IV and the medication?”

“No and Yes,” I hiss, though I’m glad he’s worried about consent.

Quickly, Dad lays me down on my bed, and the doctor is working his magic. There’s a frown on Dad’s face, his arms crossed over his chest as he watches every move the doctor makes.

Slowly, he also takes in the changes I’ve made to the closet, blowing out a breath.

As my eyes get heavy from the medication, I can hear Dad and the doctor murmuring from the door. Somehow, Dr. Fields made the space work for him.

“I want you to monitor her while she’s out,” Dad says softly. “I don’t like the idea of her being dead to the world for long. I haven’t had time to be able to research if this is even safe!”

“It is,” Dr. Fields murmurs. “Do I think it’s the right decision long term? Absolutely not. You said her heats were intense and she sounds scared of them, which leads me to believe there’s some trauma that she’s feeling surrounding it. We need to remove the reason for it.”

“Unfortunately, she told me I couldn’t kill him, and the damage has been done,” Dad growls.

I want to listen further, but a warm, fluffy darkness surrounds me. It doesn’t feel scary or anything like the last time unconsciousness clawed at my mind, desperate to give my body respite.

It’s as if I just cease to be.

One month later

January

“Tell me where all your weapons are,” Dad demands, his voice sounding unsure that I could have possibly been able to hide anything in the black formal sheath dress that I’m currently wearing.

Smirking, I pull the knife from the holder between my breasts, earning an eye roll from my father. “You told me to also use my assets,” I remind him. “Even if they were frisking omegas tonight, they wouldn’t live to tell the tale if they touched me there.”

“Damn right,” he says with a nod. “Where else?”

My blonde hair is pulled up into an updo, I slide the knife back and I show him the way each pin is also a blade. There’s also spikes in my heels that I can do damage with, and a garrote hidden in the belt that’s decorating my dress.

I didn’t want to feel drab in the all black outfit.

“Your knife skills are amazing, may as well use what you’re good at,” Dad says. “I need to teach you how to shoot a gun. I’ll feel better then.”

“I’m always going to be your little girl, even if I am eighteen,” I remind him as we walk out to the car with our security detail. I’m bundled up in my coat, but still shiver as I look around at the snow on the ground.

“You’re never going to enjoy it when I leave the house.”

Dad taught me how to drive and helped me get my license over the last two months. I feel less anxious knowing I have a vehicle and I’m not unable to go anywhere. His only rule is that I loop him into my plans before leaving. I can live with that.

It’s nice to check in with someone. If Dad isn’t in town for some reason, my grandparents are who I’m supposed to be in contact with. They came back from their vacation, more than excited to meet me.Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

I’m feeling content in my new life.

Outside of one thing.

“How was your therapy appointment today, Aisling?” Dad asks, his shrewd gaze on me as I get situated into the car. My thigh high slit makes for easy access for my knife strapped there, however it has to sit high, so it doesn’t flash people.

Instead, the knife hilt pokes me in a very intimate area, one I will not be sharing with anyone in the sedan. Even if the guards immediately lift the privacy partition once my father gets in beside me, I’ll just shift the hilt and deal.

I have a feeling that I’ll be standing a lot tonight in order to avoid being poked by something hard.

Forcing my amusement away from the thought, I focus on my father’s question. The reality is that I hate my therapist. He is a beta who believes all omegas should conform and find packs as soon as possible, otherwise, everything that happens is punishment.

“I don’t think this therapist is the right fit for me,” I say carefully. My father is very protective of me, which means sometimes, I need to protect the world from his wrath.

When I feel like it, anyway.

“Out with it, Aisling,” Dad growls, making me sigh.

“Dr. Robert Hikson is a backwards thinking beta,” I explain. “His ideas aren’t helpful to omegas with trauma, nor are they conducive to healing. Dad, I’m really trying here, but I’m going to stab him if he tells me I need to pack up with the first assholes with knots willing to take care of me.”

“If we hurry, I’m sure I can pay him a visit and not be late,” he says, deadly calm surrounding him.

Yeah, no. I know that tone.

“Absolutely not, but I want to quit this therapist,” I tell him. “That makes three therapists in two months. I’m broken, I can’t be fixed. According to all three therapists, all I need is to be fucked six ways to Thursday in order to be straightened out.”

“Aisling,” Dad groans, rubbing his eyes. “That’s not what you need, obviously. Fuck, why are they all like this?”

“The system doesn’t cater to omegas,” I grumble. “Look at what happened to Mom and I. The signs are all there that there isn’t any help for omegas, male or female without a pack. I need to be knocked out once a month in order to survive my own biology, Dad.”

“I’m well aware, my daughter,” he says, dropping his hands into his lap. “Every time, I’m terrified something is going to go wrong and you won’t wake up. I despise that there aren’t any better options. I also completely understand why you don’t want to attempt to go through your heat again because of what Hayes did. He’s still on my shit list. I can barely look at him without wanting to fuck him up.”

“I bet he has no idea why you’re upset either,” I grunt. “I don’t want to complain and get lost in my past. I want to do something about it, Dad.”

“So do it,” he says. “I’ll support you in whatever it is. Minnesota especially doesn’t have any resources for omegas or children who are displaced. There’s an association that umbrellas over the country that states that it’s for omega’s rights, but they’re for the status quo. Fuck shit up. It’s what Sullivans do.”

My lips twitch at his words. My grandmother is a tiny omega badass. She doesn’t care about social standards unless there’s a reason for it, and my grandfather indulges her. Their pack consisted of a beta and another alpha, but both have passed away.

There’s an ocean of sadness that wells in her almost colorless blue eyes, yet I can see that something in her needs to remember them.

I’ll sit and listen to any stories they want to tell me.

They’re in a car with Hayes following us, since no one was allowed to stay behind for this meeting. I also know for a fact that my grandmother has a gun and a knife hidden in the pockets of her dress. I love knowing that she’s such a badass.

“Thanks, Dad. So can I quit my therapist?” I ask, grinning.

I’m not seriously asking for permission. I already told Dr. Hikson that I wouldn’t be returning now that I’ve completed my third appointment with him. Yes, I’m going once a week to these torture sessions. I’ve given this man a thorough chance.

He told me that quitters don’t live for long, especially omegas, and that he looked forward to reading my obituary. Asshole.

“I have a feeling you don’t need my permission,” Dad says, chuckling. “You already told the man to shove it where the sun wouldn’t shine, didn’t you?”

“Absofuckinglutely,” I tell him happily as we approach the beautifully lit estate. The gardens roll out around us as the driver slowly drives up the driveway, following the other cars.

The home is made of brick and white columns, with stairs leading to the blue painted door. The place looks like it’s easy to protect because of the lack of entrances up front. I can also see guards out in the darkness, their heads moving on a swivel.

“Who’s idea was it to use the Kelly estate?” I ask softly. I’ve been studying up the last few days on who everyone is. If I’m going to be getting to know people, I don’t want to piss someone off because I got their name wrong.

I also know my father is an important member of the families. I don’t want to fuck this up.

“Theirs,” he says. “It’s set up for parties and protection. While the meeting is happening, I want you to mingle in the courtyard and gardens. It’ll be warm, I promise.”

My lips twitch because he knows exactly how to sweet talk me. Nodding, I wait for the guard and driver to open our doors and help us out. I ignore the heavy gaze boring into my back as I walk up to the house, because I know it’s Hayes. I hope he trips on something and shoots his dick off.

“Mr. Sullivan,” the man at the door says, nodding respectfully. Dad introduces me, ushering me inside, so I’m not standing in the cold air. While they take our coats and my father hands over his weapons, I count them all.

I know for a fact that he still has a gun in an ankle holster and another hidden under his jacket. They aren’t frisking him because it would be rude. I smirk in my mind, tickled by the mafia world’s etiquette. As long as nothing bad happens, this prep is just practice. I can’t shrug off the bad feeling I have now that I’m here though.

I watch everyone as I walk into the ballroom with my father, listening to the speech discussing how we’re here due to a turf war between two brothers. God, I wonder about all the bullshit in between that led to this. Does it happen to have anything to do with an omega?

Seems like an awful lot of work not to be over a broken heart.

Exchanging a glance with my father, I walk to the courtyard, knowing I have a beta guard trailing me. It doesn’t bother me in the least, because it’s extra protection, not because I’m not capable of doing it myself.

There are a lot of people I only know by sight out here. Dad quizzed me to make sure I’d be able to hold a conversation with anyone who wants one, but there are a few people I don’t know.

The next hour passes quickly as I chat, until I see Reagan attempting to torture someone with her presence.

Her mother already made the rounds before her in front of the group, and it appears to have been a pleasant experience. One of Jodi Ryan’s alphas is the one who spoke earlier, discussing how it was their duty to mend the rift between Corbin and Crowson Murphy. He’s a big wig in the mafia families, which I’m sure everyone here knows.

As Reagan’s fake smile spreads across her lips, I creep closer to the group to find out what idiocy she’s spreading. Her tone changes quickly to outrage as it’s clear the group surrounding the two omegas in front of me aren’t taking her shit.

“Excuse me?! How dare you speak to me like that⁠—” Reagan squeals as I roll my eyes and pull the knife from between my breasts.

Nothing like making an entrance. My knife finds its way to the small of her back, giving just enough pressure for Reagan to know I’m there. She’s already turning a worrying shade of red in her outrage. May as well intervene.

“Reagan, I will cut you and then tell your mama you deserved it,” I growl.

The omegas gaze wide eyed at the interruption, holding hands as they watch me. The male is a redhead with green eyes, and is wearing a black suit with suspenders. He’s adorable and smells like custard and chocolate.

My gel is firmly in place under my nose, but it only works for alphas. I don’t typically need it for anyone else. The other female omega is wearing a gorgeous lace and mesh corset dress with her hair up, and a wicked thigh slit coming up high on one of her legs.

I wonder if she has weapons hiding underneath all of that material, and I find myself wanting to protect them both from my cousin and her wicked fucking tongue.

“Aisling,” Reagan whines, inadvertently introducing me. I don’t know them, so it works for me. “You’re hurting me.”

“Good. Get the fuck out, and stop bugging people,” I grunt, over her shit.

Pulling away, Reagan stomps away, and I put away the huge knife down the sheath between my breasts. I don’t mind revealing a trick or two. Dad had this sheath made for me since I couldn’t find any online. We’ve survived things that are much more awkward than this, after all.

“Hi, I’m Aisling,” I say with a grin, uncaring that I’m repeating Reagan. I need an opening to find out who they are.

There’s a blond God of an alpha standing protectively over both omegas, which is curious to me. It’s not the action of a packed up alpha, but more a family member. Interesting. The omegas introduce themselves as Flynn and Wren, and the blond is Jasper. As we chat, I find myself opening up about myself.

I’m a pretty private person overall, so this surprises even me. Something tells me that they’re a naturally suspicious group, and only the truth will do. Even if it is a trauma info dump.

“My mom is Beatrice Reynolds, and she may have had a little affair with Cian Sullivan. He found out after my mom passed away, and he decided he wanted to get to know me,” I explain.

“Are you two getting along?” Wren asks sweetly.

Thinking about that, I decide that’s a complicated question.

“Yes and no,” I say with a laugh. “I didn’t grow up in this life, so some of the rules are hard for me to understand and follow. I’m just glad the families in these packs don’t work in sex trafficking.”

Wren’s face changes, and I wonder what her story is. As we chat, she slowly relaxes again, confirming to me that she dislikes the practice of trafficking omegas. Feeling excited despite myself, I push for more information.

“There’s so few resources for omegas, and I want to change that. My mother died when I was sixteen and I didn’t know what to do,” I explain. “If there was an organization that offered help without any strings, it would have changed so much for us. I want to find or create something that will open doors for omegas.”

“Shit,” Flynn breathes, unnaturally still. I hope he’s an omega that’s always been well loved, safe, and never gone through what I have.

You don’t have to go through the shit to still want to help.

“Aisling, would it be really ignorant to ask how old you are?” he asks, wincing. Ahh, someone put some things together. Good omega.

“I’m eighteen, and my dad found me almost two years after my mom died. In fact, just a few months ago,” I say with a sigh. “I found a job, changed and showered in public bathrooms, and eventually made enough money to get an apartment with a couple of people during those two years. I can’t even call them friends, but we managed to co-exist.”

The words taste like ash on my tongue, because Orla and Mickey were my rocks when I was tumbling through a sea of grief and despair. It feels unfair to describe them as less than what they were, but if I get into it, I’ll lose my composure. I can’t do that here.

I’ll remember them properly when I’m home in my nest, where I can cry in my soundproofed room.

“Anyway,” I continue, tucking away my emotions, “I went through a lot during that time, none of it pretty. If you’re serious about helping other omegas, I have some ideas on how to do that.”

Wren’s eyes light up, and I know I’ve found a kindred spirit, maybe even a friend. I really hope I’m reading this right.

“What kind of ideas?” Jasper asks protectively. “Wren has been through a lot, this life is dangerous enough as it is, Aisling.”

Hmm, they’re definitely siblings. Interesting. The glance of surprise that Wren gives him means that even she is shocked by the intensity of his tone. Everyone deserves people in their corner. It appears she has several.

Good for her.

“Jasper, really,” she mutters. “I am interested in hearing more, though.”

“Safe places for omegas to stay, starting with Minnesota,” I say immediately. “A non-profit that is funded to help runaways so they can start over, and somewhere for omegas with children in the case that their alphas are abusive.”

The conversation snowballs until I find more time has passed than expected, and Flynn is offering to exchange phone numbers with me. I’ve laughed and hugged Wren and Flynn more than I have with most people in this short time, but I feel a surge of uncertainty when Wren admits that she doesn’t have a phone, nor knows how to use one.

Was she in a cult? Oh my God, did I misunderstand everything and they’re completely controlling?

I swallow hard, my eyes moving over them all to commit their features to memory in case I need to ask my father for help to extract this innocent omega.

“I feel as if there’s a story there, but it’s none of my business. I also want you to know that we just became best friends, so if these yahoos are assholes to you, I want to know,” I growl.

Flynn’s grin is so wide it may split his face, and I flush because it looks as if I may be in over my head. There’s something about Wren that draws me to her, even though we’ve just met. A part of me wants her to be happy, to work with me to help others, but I will also gladly stab anyone who makes her cry.

“I can assure you that I worship the ground my omega walks on,” Flynn says. “I also want your number to be correctly programmed in here, so I should probably do it.”

“That’s fair,” I murmur with a nod, rattling off my number. I’m still pretty suspicious, but I’ll table it for now and ask my father for intel later, especially since I’ll be seeing Wren more often.

“I’m texting you so you have my information as well,” he says, his fingers moving quickly over the keyboard before he tucks it back into his pocket.

“I’ll call you tomorrow, Wren,” I tell her. “I told Dad about this, but it’s such an immense project for an eighteen-year-old.”

“Age is just a number,” Wren says with a shrug. “I’m twenty, so we’re pretty evenly matched there. We’ll have something few other people who have ever thought about doing this have.”

“What’s that?” I ask, though the thought is already beginning to form in my mind. I want to know what she thinks, so I can see if it matches.

“Experience at being an omega with the odds stacked against them who still had to figure shit out,” she says. “An organization like this doesn’t work if it’s not someone like us, and instead becomes a group of individuals who think they know better than us.”

I still feel as if something big is going to happen tonight, but this helps to heal part of my soul that’s been searching for other omegas like me. I can tell that her story is intense by the heaviness and wisdom in her hazel eyes. It doesn’t do anything to change that I believe I was meant to meet her today.

As I say goodbye, hours later, my premonition comes true, and all hell breaks loose. I really need to trust my instincts more. At least I got to use my weapons and kill a few of the infiltrating fuckers.

Never a dull moment as a mafia man’s daughter.