Knot My Band, Part One (Knot My Band #1)

Oli

OMEGA BUZZ GOSSIP COLUMN

OLI HART TOUR SET TO START IN TWO WEEKS- HER BIGGEST TOUR YET!

March 18th

I ’m in the middle of practicing one of my most popular songs when the door slams open, interrupting me.

“ve!” Trevor Davis, my manager, shouts with a red face.

The note on my guitar cuts off with a clang before I set it down and move toward a stressed-out Trevor.

“What is it? You never interrupt my practices.”

His anxiety seeps into me until I’m gnawing on my lip so hard I might make it bleed. As an omega, I’m sensitive to the emotions around me, which can be exhausting. Trevor is radiating stress. It’s stifling.

“They’re leaving!” he grits out, pacing the floor.

The instinct to calm him down overwhelms me until I reach out to stop his movements.

“Trevor, you’re worrying me. What’s going on?” I say softly.

“Liam, Henry, Lucas, and Leo aren’t coming on tour with you,” Trevor admits .

Shock cuts through me. “My band? They’re ditching me right before the tour? It’s only two weeks away!”

Now I’m freaking out. My breathing becomes short pants until the corners of my vision go black.

I pace the length of the rehearsal room, my boots clicking against the polished floor in a rhythm that’s too erratic to be a beat. The news is still ringing in my ears. Every instinct I have is telling me to find the positive in this, but I can’t seem to shake off the panic.

“,” Trevor says, his voice cutting through my spiraling thoughts. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come in here freaking out. I was furious, not worried. You know I’ve got this, right? We’ve hit snags before and always come out on top.”

I stop mid-stride, turning to face him. He stands there, the embodiment of composure once again with his short-cropped gray hair. Trevor’s confidence is infectious, but it’s a balm that doesn’t quite seep deep enough to soothe the raw edges of my nerves.

“Sure, Trevor,” I reply, trying to match his assurance with a half-cocked grin. “But snagging a whole new band in two weeks? That’s not exactly easy.” My hands gesture wildly, mirroring the inner turmoil that’s threatening to spill over.

He crosses the room in a few strides, the frown that seems etched onto his face softening just a touch. “You’re Hart,” he reminds me as if my own name should be the pep talk I need. “Your voice could turn a pack of stray cats into a symphony. Give me a couple of days, and I’ll find you a band that can keep up with you.”

His words are meant to fortify, but the thought of stepping out without the familiar faces behind me, without the band that’s been my backbone, is daunting. I love them. Why are they leaving me?

“Two weeks, Trevor,” I murmur, biting down on my lip. “That’s all we have. Two weeks to find a group that gets my music, that gets me. And then it’s not just about playing the notes. There’s chemistry, timing…”

“Hey,” he interjects, his gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that halts my spiraling thoughts. “I’ve seen you create magic with less. You make every performance look like it’s what you were born to do because, hell, it is.”

I blow out a breath, feeling the pressure ease just a fraction. Trevor has never let me down before; why would he start now?

“Alright, alright,” I concede. “Do your thing, manager man. Work your magic.”

He nods, the corners of his mouth ticking up ever so slightly. “You’ll have your epic show, . I’ll comb through every hole-in-the-wall and high-end studio if I have to. We’re going to find them.”

“Okay,” I say, a grin breaking across my face. “I’m trusting you on this one, Trevor. But no more grumpy grandpa vibes, alright? We need to pump up the excitement here!”

“Grumpy grandpa?” He arches an eyebrow, but there’s a spark of amusement in his eyes now. “You’ll eat those words when you see what I pull off.”

“Promise?” I tease, my restless energy now morphing into anxiety-filled anticipation. If anyone could handle a challenge like this, it would be us.

“Promise,” he affirms, pushing away from the counter with a renewed sense of purpose.

As he leaves, I catch my reflection in the mirror again. This time, I see not just a singer, not just an omega, but a force of nature about to be unleashed on stage. The new band doesn’t know it yet, but they’re about to join the ride of their lives. And me? I can’t wait to hit that first chord and feel the rush of connection that only music can bring on this tour.

I go back to practice, grabbing my guitar.

“Alright, let’s do this,” I mutter to myself, feeling the familiar weight of my guitar settle against my hip.

I never get to use my guitar on stage, so I savor having it now during practice. My fingers dance over the strings, teasing out a melody that’s been playing on a loop in my mind since Trevor dropped the bombshell about the band. It’s new, it’s raw, and it’s pure Hart—undiluted and unrestrained.

As the notes spill into the cavernous room, I lose myself in the rhythm, the vibrations resonating through my bones. This is where I belong; this stage is my domain. Each strum, each chord is an extension of my soul, the lyrics a confession of my wildest dreams and darkest fears. Music is more than just an outlet; it’s the language through which I bare my heart to the world.

Midway through the song, a pang of vulnerability slices through me. Being an omega on tour is not easy. The industry is a jungle, rife with alphas who mistake assertiveness for aggression and dominance for artistry. But I’ve learned to navigate these treacherous waters, turning potential pitfalls into stepping stones. I’ve got a fire inside that burns brighter than any alpha’s ego—and I’m not about to let it be extinguished. I’m one of only two omegas ever to get a song into the top twenty, and it’s because it’s so difficult to make it in any industry as an omega.

The song builds to a crescendo, and I pour every ounce of defiance and determination I possess into the final chords.

I end on a note that rings out, clear and true, its echo a testament to resilience. A slow smile curves my lips as I picture the crowd, the sea of faces lit up with adoration and excitement. They’re here for the music, for the connection that only a live performance can forge. And I’ll be damned if I don’t give them one hell of a show.

After a three-hour practice session, I’m feeling excited. Maybe I can use this opportunity to find an all-female band to match my all-girl opener, The Storm! I can help lift up women in this industry and turn this around into something positive.

The guitar’s last echo dies off as I strum, my fingers lingering on the strings. Sweat beads along my forehead are a testament to the intensity of the rehearsal. Spent but satisfied, I look up just as Trevor bursts through the door.

“, you’re not gonna believe this,” he announces, his usual frown swapped for a gleam of success. “I’ve found your band.”

“Already?” I can’t help but quirk an eyebrow, my curiosity piqued. I lean back against the amp, arms crossed, waiting for the catch. “I was actually thinking maybe I could pick up an all-girl band to join me.”

Trevor frowns. “I like the idea, but we don’t have time to find that for this tour. But if you give this group a try, then I promise to help make that happen for the next one.”

I think that’s reasonable. This will give us time to find the perfect girls for next time. Maybe even another omega.

“Deal. So, who did you find?” I ask.

Trevor’s smirk widens. “A group of alphas. Immensely talented, albeit with a bit of a… let’s say, colorful reputation. They were supposed to have their own tour that would have been much smaller than yours. The pack will be thrilled.”

“Alphas, huh?” I chew on the inside of my cheek, mulling over the prospect. The music industry is a playground for alphas—it always has been. But something about Trevor’s tone tells me these aren’t your average alpha rock gods. “When do I get to meet the infamous pack?”

“Tonight,” he says, clapping his hands together. “They’re on their way now.”

“Good to know.” I stand up, slinging the guitar strap off my shoulder. Despite the wariness that bubbles inside me—a natural response to the unpredictability of alphas—I can’t deny the zing of excitement at the thought of a fresh collaboration. New energy. New sounds. It’s the adrenaline shot my creative heart craves.

“I’m going to go shower with some scent-canceling soap after my practice,” I say. It’s always safer to cancel your scent when you’re going to be around alphas.

“Hey,” Trevor’s voice pulls me back. “you okay with being around a bunch of alphas? You’ve dealt with them before, but…”

“Please, Trevor.” I toss him a wink, loading confidence into my tone. “This industry’s swarming with alphas. I eat their egos for breakfast.”

“Alright then,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “Go shower so you can be ready. I will tell you about them if we have time before they get here.”

I nod, head to the shower, and start to brace myself for being around the alphas.