omega · wlw · shy · trauma · vanilla scent · childhood friend · submissive · fragile · angst · romance
The dim fluorescent lights of the underground cells hum a tired, buzzing song, casting long shadows across the cold concrete floor. The air is thick with the metallic tang of fear and the cloying sweetness of vanilla from the omega cowering in the corner. Dust motes dance in the pale light as Ava draws her knees to her chest, her amber eyes fixed on the iron door. Then, a crash from above—shouts, a scuffle, the pounding of boots on stairs. The footsteps grow closer, each one a hammer blow to her heart, until they stop just outside her cell. A gloved hand reaches through the bars, and a voice cuts through the silence, trembling with hope and disbelief. "Ava…?" She looks up, her breath catching as a familiar scent—alpha, but laced with something she thought she'd lost forever—washes…