Bonds of Fate (Fated in the Stars #2)

Chapter Nineteen Nix

Nix

Nix wakes up with a dull ache in his abdomen and his back pressed against Grayson’s chest in the warmest bath. It’s a lovely way to wake up, and he feels gratitude that his new life is filled with such soft awakenings instead of…well…the other kind.

He knows it’s Grayson by the steady cadence of his heart against his spine.

Both sides of his throat are sensitive, Rowan’s new bond tingling in his chest. With the connection between them and Jamie now running both ways, he turns inward, giving Rowan’s magenta-colored line a subtle tug.

Jamie’s red bond isn’t hard to find either, but it feels different—steadier, more settled around his heart. Different colors, just as bright.

There are residual tingles of pleasure pulsing through him, and he feels floaty—steeped in the scents of his mates and still undeniably horny.

When his eyes flutter open, Luca’s heart-shaped smile and shining eyes fill his vision. Waking up to a face full of Luca Wilde is becoming a welcome habit.

“Finn,” the cutie in question whispers. “Baby’s awake. No ambulance required.”

He kisses Nix full on the lips, a swipe of tongue teasing against his own before he stands to go tell whoever’s in the other room the same news…Jamie?

Hmmm. His Alpha is unhappy. It’s sparking along the bond, a sharp contrast to the hazy warmth still rolling through him. It’s objectively a pretty cool feeling, though, the way he can tell Jamie’s emotions from an entire room away if he concentrates. Nix wonders why no one has mentioned that before—it seems handy. However, Luca and Gideon seem to orbit around each other like they, too, operate on this wavelength.

Wait—ambulance?

“Angel, does anything hurt?”

Grayson’s hand skims over his head, then carefully down over Rowan’s bite. The heat of the bath water and Gray’s firm hand on his belly add to his feelings of drowsiness and arousal.

Finn rises from his perch on the lid of the toilet, crouching beside them. The bathroom is bright white, so clean that Nix can see his own blurry reflection in the front of the cabinets.

“Nix?”

“Finnie. Hiiiiiiii.” Nix’s wolf preens to see Finn’s claim bite from last night in all its bright, mottled, purple-and-greenish-yellow glory. His collared shirt is open one button more than usual, so everyone can see how the bruise runs down over his collarbone. Nix feels a burst of pride at how well-claimed his Dr. Merritt is now.

Finn’s cheeks flush a shy pink, and the room fills with a burst of black currants. “Hi, Nix. Any aches and pains I should know about?”

With a smile, he checks in on his own body; other than that low ache in his belly, like he had done too many crunches—he feels great. Horny, floaty, and content.

The thought is followed abruptly by a memory of Leo’s hot cinnamon come and the feeling of Rowan so deep, he could feel him in his throat. And then Rowan’s bite. That explains the magenta-colored feeling in his chest.

But then there’s nothing.

“How long was I out? Where is Leo? Is Rowan okay? Can I see them?” His wolf doesn’t like that Rowan isn’t here and that he can’t feel Leo in the same way. He needs to find them—to fix this gnawing feeling before it sinks any deeper.

“Whoa, hey. Hang on a second,” Finn protests, but Nix turns and kisses Grayson on the mouth and then does the same to Finn. It shuts them up momentarily so he can climb out, grab a towel from the rack, and head out the door into…wow.

The room is so calm and relaxing that Nix thinks he could slip into the bed and sleep for a week. The space smells of mocha, black currants, and a tinge of burnt pine, probably from the angsty alpha pacing the length of the well-organized space.

Luca is lying on a pile of laundry on the floor, wiggling and rubbing various articles on his neck and his…dick. They’re new with the tags still attached—Nix fears his baby is risking a paper cut to somewhere sensitive.

He slows his momentum long enough to ask, “Uhh, Luc? What are you doing?”

“Oh, ha. Finn, catch.” He throws a pair of black pants and a white long-sleeved t-shirt at Finn, who’s managed to follow Nix out of the bathroom. “Well, I picked these out for you, and I’m sorry, but Gideon made me choose pants. I also chose some other stuff, but we need to wash it and then scent it again.”

“You picked out some clothes for me?” That feeling from before, when Finn tried to order him things, swirls in his abdomen again.

“I am giving them to you. I missed your birthday, and you missed mine. And we can share this stuff. As a gift to me. Would that be okay? I love to share stuff, and I even picked these matching T-shirts!”

He bends over, naked ass up in the air, and Nix thinks maybe he could go without clothes now, too—he drops his towel.

He hasn’t gotten a bite from Luca yet, and he could…

“Whoa. Nix.” Strong arms are pulling him back from naked, happy-smelling Luca, who is waving two matching t-shirts that say He’s My Baby , each with an arrow pointing the opposite way. They’re obviously custom, and the sheer sweetness of the gesture helps him dial back his wolf’s need-to-fuck-and-get-bitten-by-Luca agenda. Regardless of Jamie’s strong arms around him, his wolf has a one-track mind.

“Luca, please. Clothes. He needs a bit of recovery time,” Jamie says, exasperated.

Recovery from what? He feels fine—good, even if you don’t count the horny wolf riding shotgun.

“What happened, Finn? My tummy is sore, but…”

Finn blushes as Grayson comes out of the bathroom in a pair of Finn’s sweats, big dick swinging visibly even beneath the fabric.

Come to think of it, he hasn’t had a bite from Grayson yet, either. They could do that right now, on that beautifully made bed.

What the fuck? What is wrong with his wolf?

“Can someone open a window? My wolf is…whoa.”

Single-mindedly horny? Obsessed? Fixated? Check. Check. Check.

He’s all of those things, but it’s not just his body craving it. The urgency doesn’t come from simple desire—it’s his wolf. His wolf believes they need these bites.

And he’s going to use every tool at his disposal to get them.

His wolf reminds him just how pretty Finn is—pink cheeks flushed, his khakis modest but hugging him just right. His baby-blue button-down is rolled up at the sleeves, revealing toned forearms that flex with every wave he makes in front of Nix’s face.

Come to think of it, he doesn’t have a Finn-bite, either.

Shit.

Maybe his wolf needs to calm the fuck down.

Listen, you. We do not need to have bites right this second, alright? Dial back the horny.

The wolf cracks the lid on the box in his head, just a sliver, and Dawson’s face slides into view, just in case Nix has forgotten that until he has the bite from every single mate, their bond remains unfulfilled. Oh.

“Nix. Hey. Nix, you with us?”

Jamie’s hands are firm around Nix’s arms, while Finn has stepped back slightly. In the lull, Jamie has managed to slip a white shirt over Nix’s head; it’s still long, and the neckline is wide enough to gape, exposing both bites.

Grayson crouches in front of him, gently sliding his feet—one at a time—into the soft yoga pants.

“Hey, there you are. Where’d you go?”

“Hi, Jamie.”

His mate just raises an eyebrow and tilts his head.

“What happened? Why was I out before?”

Nix’s scent shifts—from warm to burnt vanilla in a second—and Jamie’s perfectly handsome nose wrinkles. He spends far too much time unconscious or losing time, and he’s getting pretty damn fed up with it. It always means one thing—he has catching up to do.

He and his wolf have got to come to some sort of working relationship because this is getting ridiculous.

His sweet-smelling Finn keeps just out of reach when he delivers yet another revelation, and Nix is grateful for the reprieve. “Rowan bonded you and knotted you. I don’t understand it yet, but it set off a feedback loop of synchronized orgasms.”

“Like we were coming multiple times, but at the same time, while I was unconscious? Stuck on his knot? Wow, that’s weird even for Weres, right?”

No answers are forthcoming, and the three alphas look especially uncomfortable, whether from the lack of reliable answers or in empathy, he doesn’t know; because taking Rowan’s knot must…also be wow , if his cock is anything to go by. Luca just looks envious.

While Nix had been busy unsuccessfully negotiating with his wolf, Luca had pulled a button-down from Finn’s laundry basket and had done up the two middle buttons. It was hardly an effective deterrent, as both his tits and dick keep winking through the front. So fucking hot. “Baby, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but could you?” Nix waves at the front of the shirt, and Grayson sighs, giving Luca a hand with the buttons while Luca mutters under his breath.

Finn sounds genuinely baffled as he continues his explanation. “It is unusual. The feedback loop is entirely possible, if not well-documented, and we do train for the contingency. But this…was not like that. Jamie had to Alpha-Voice Rowan to get his knot down.”

“Alpha-Voice? Why does that sound ominous?”

Jamie rubs his neck—his usual telltale sign of discomfort. “It’s exactly what it sounds like, I guess. And yeah, it’s bad. Alphas can push their will into their commands. It should never be used except in emergencies. I’m Rowan’s Pack Alpha and an enigma, so it had to be me, but I would never—”

The thought alone makes Nix nauseous because while he knows Jamie would never force someone against their will unless he absolutely had to—someone else would.

Alphas without honor would use it to their advantage.

But Jamie only used it to help him and Rowan.

“You said multiple orgasms ?” It would explain his achy tummy. The orgasms he’s had so far with his mates were total body experiences, and Rowan was capital B-I-G.

“Eight for Rowan total, I think, and the last four were synchronized with you.”

“I had more than four orgasms? At one time?” Holy shit.

“In under twenty minutes,” Jamie whispers.

Nix understands immediately because orgasms are great, but every one of them has had one in their lifetime they could have probably done without.

In Nix’s old life, there were lots of those.

“Rowan’s balls are on fire.” Luca’s wiggling eyebrows and lewd hand gestures make Nix smile, and he’s able to force the bad memory back. “Hey, you never said: are those clothes okay?”

Nix puts his nose to the too-long sleeve, and he can smell the light scenting his mates have tried to put on them, but the starch is still strong. He’ll wash them later, and then, hopefully, they’ll smell a bit more like the pack.

“I love them, Luca. Thank you for the gifts. I really like those t-shirts—can we wash and wear them later?”

“Yes!” He finally has an armful of happy, mocha-scented beta, and it makes his wolf raise his head, Campaign Bite-Me is never far from the surface.

Listen, you, we are not getting freaky right the fuck now… he starts, and the wolf puts his head down on the box again.

Whew.

“Nix.” Jamie has his very-serious-pack-alpha-face on, and his other mates look as perplexed as Nix feels at the change in mood. “Riordan is coming. He’s…” Jamie is at a loss for words, clearly uncertain how to explain.

The thought of having the doctor in their den when they are only partially bonded makes Nix nervous, and the dull ache in his tummy pulses to a new anxious beat. “He wants to see me ? Why? He was just here. Is it because of this afternoon?”

“No! He doesn’t even know about today, and I have no plans to tell him.” Just the thought has Jamie looking green.

“Oh.” If not for that, then why would his doctor want to see him?

Jamie shrugs, annoyed, his pine scent smoky. “He’s bringing someone with him, and he wouldn’t say who. He was unnecessarily cryptic, honestly.”

His phone buzzes with the alarm for the gate, and he scrambles out of the room—everyone hot on his heels.

In the short time he’s been here, it’s rare to see his alpha flustered, but when he reaches the main floor, he sees exactly why.

Gideon is gripping his phone so tightly it might snap. His scent rumbles like distant thunder, and his face looks just as stormy. He’s wearing an apron over his clothes that reads: I Know 100 Ways to Kill You.

No punchline. Just the threat.

It’s cinched tight around his trim waist, and a blue, flowered towel is draped over his shoulder.

“Why is Riordan at my gate, James? Did we have a warning this time, at the very least?” It’s then that Nix can see the sharp-bladed knife in his left hand. The grip makes Nix wonder if he’s been using it in the kitchen or just brought it along. Although, on second thought, Nix gets the impression that Gideon probably doesn’t need the weapon.

“We did. Sorry, love. He just called, and then we got caught up in bringing Nix up to speed.”

Gideon catches Nix’s gaze and tilts his head.

Are you okay, kitten?

It translates to all of it—okay from before, okay with their visitors, maybe even okay with life—because only Gideon can fit an entire conversation into one head tilt.

Nix reads it all, and relief settles in his chest. He can answer with a small smile and a curt nod.

Gideon nods in return—implying he doesn’t need to kill the doctor after all.

Not right now, at least.

“Alright. Well? Open the gate. Do I have to do everything?” Gideon grumps, and Nix wants to laugh at the collective sigh of relief from his mates.

“Leo has Rowan in Epsom salts. Best leave them to it.”

It’s not long before Riordan is on the front step. When Jamie opens the door, there’s a shorter but no-less-handsome younger man with short dark-blond hair behind him. There are a few quiet grunts of surprise from the others.

“Riordan. Arlo, long time no see!”

Riordan has scent blockers on, but the newcomer, Arlo, does not. What he does have is a plethora of mismatched clothing covering him from neck to knees; in fact, even his socks don’t match. The scent is an array of citrus, grass, peach, cardamom, cedar, black licorice, melon, paper, and baking bread.

It’s fascinating.

Finn had explained about scent blocker patches, but that he couldn’t wear one yet. Nix isn’t sure which scent belongs to whom, but together, it tickles his wolf and makes Nix feel comfortable. The freshly baked bread scent is particularly calming, and Nix’s wolf relaxes, even with strangers in their den and bonds unformed.

His mates, however, don’t appear calm at all. Everyone but Luca (who has made his way into the kitchen) is standing in a semi-circle in the living room like unarmed sentries, still at attention and not taking their eyes off their new visitors.

You would never know they were friends, and Nix will not let that stand.

He lets his smile meet his eyes. “Riordan, nice to see you again. Arlo, nice to meet you. Won’t you come in?”

With a put-upon sigh, Riordan puts a hand on the small of his mate’s lower back and guides him into the sitting area. Arlo is beautiful and slightly…awkward. Nix thinks it might be all the clothes.

He hears Luca whisper to himself, “We should do that for Nix,” and maybe the pack’s scents are designed to comfort the anxious man.

Arlo has not stopped staring at him.

Nix is glad his wolf likes him, or at least the scent of him, or he might take umbrage again at the outrageous show of attention in his den.

“What can we do for you both?” Nix asks, deciding that if none of the others can be polite, he will have to carry the load.

While Nix is relaxed, Gideon is still clutching his knife, and Finn has a restraining hand on Grayson’s arm. He’s not the only one feeling the pressure of half a bond. Best to move this along, as his sentries are not completely unarmed, after all.

Riordan sighs again, and Nix thinks that maybe he’s here under duress, too. Odd. “Arlo wanted to meet Nix.”

That is unexpected. What could Arlo possibly want with Nix?

Arlo stands abruptly and asks in a light, soft-spoken voice, “Can we talk outside, Nix? My mates forget that I am meeting you indoors in Nashville and not in the snowy mountains. I’m a bit warm.”

He doesn’t remove any of the garments responsible, though, and Gideon’s mouth ticks up at the corners.

Nix is surprised his mates don’t balk when he agrees, as he’d fully expected a chorus of denials and excuses to keep him close. He’s proud that they trust him to decide for himself, and what this beautiful, awkward stranger would have to say to him privately is a curiosity he can’t resist.

Jamie leaves and comes back with his own black pine-scented leather jacket, holding it open so he can slide his arms in, and a pair of slip-on shoes that are a little too big.

Nix kisses his cheek and whispers, “Be nice.”

“This way, Arlo. You’ve been here before?” Nix slides the pool doors open, and the mild fall air blows Arlo’s multitude of scents into a swirl around them.

“Yes, a while ago, though, so lead the way.”

Strange—Jamie said they were social and had the Kennedy pack to the compound regularly. That Arlo hadn’t visited with his mates is notable.

They step out onto the pool deck and skirt the hot tub to take the stairs up to a stone path leading away from the house. Nix doesn’t have to turn around to know there are the equivalent of eight noses pressed to the glass like children.

“They’re watching, right?” Arlo whispers conspiratorially but doesn’t check for himself.

“Hmm, we shouldn’t torture them. Come on, there’s a little patch of garden and a bench up here. Would you like to sit?”

The bench nestled in among the pruned rose bushes is a piece of art, with its iron roses and ironwork back, and not designed for long periods of rest, but it will do. They’re not out of sight of the house but far enough away for a degree of privacy.

Arlo sits gingerly and sighs. He’s distracted by the yard and some autumn birds pecking away at the grass. Nix just enjoys the sunshine and waits. This isn’t his show.

“Hmm. I’m not sure where to start. I asked to come, and yet I am still uncertain. May I be blunt, Nix?”

The breeze carries a faint hint of peach—pleasant and sweet.

Nix can appreciate that. He nods. “Sure.”

“The straightforward part, then: I am omega.”

Nix hopes his mates can’t see the pure shock on his face.

“You’re omega? Like me?”

Not alone. He’s not alone. The realization hits him so hard it makes him momentarily dizzy with relief.

“I was born omega, though, unlike you,” the other man explains. “Dan and Ewan were certain, the last time they were here, that you might be omega. They haven’t broken their oaths about anything else—except to say that you’ve had a hard time.”

Nix meets his fellow omega’s gaze and nods, a flood of emotions and questions crashing through him.

“Do you have questions you feel comfortable asking? I can try to answer them.”

Arlo shifts, looking uneasy—and Nix understands why. Questions about secondary gender inevitably lead to topics of sex and biology.

Some people are uncomfortable discussing such things with strangers. Arlo is only here because another omega needs him.

And because, in the end, they only really have each other.

Nix thinks he’s brave, and it makes Nix even more grateful he’s here.

“Really? Thank you so much! Yes! First—are there more of us? I mean, we thought I was the only one.”

If the world already knew about omegas, Nix wouldn’t have spent so much of his life hiding. His entire existence, his choices, everything—it would all be easier.

Arlo rubs his hands over his belly, stretches, and settles back against the bench. More comfortable now, but still careful.

“There are six that we know of,” he says. “One in Argentina—he’s fifty-six now, I believe. One in Japan, who just presented…seventeen. Another in New Zealand. Then you and I here in America. And one in France. All in our twenties.”

“Six? In the whole world? How did you find them?”

The other omega smiles fondly.

“My mate, Baz, is like a dog with a bone. Honestly, I’m not even sure how, but he’s been searching for years since I presented at nineteen—so almost nine years now.

“He’s made connections, and the most recent one—from Japan—found us through an academic specializing in Omegan History. It’s a small, reliable network, and we’re still very careful about keeping quiet. But when Dan said you were here, in Nashville…that’s two in the same place.”

Arlo’s voice drops slightly, thoughtful.

“Baz thinks that since most of us are in our twenties, maybe more are being born all the time. Australia, Asia, the Americas, Europe—we think there must be at least one in Africa, too, but we haven’t made contact yet. That’s one of the reasons I came today.”

It’s almost more than Nix can take in. He must get lost in his thoughts because he’s startled when Arlo says, “Dan said that the person who hurt you is in jail.”

It’s gentle, but the shift in subject feels abrupt.

Nix flinches but answers anyway. “He is. If I don’t go to court to testify, he might be out in less than twenty years.”

Weres lived a long time.

Twenty years is nothing.

Twenty years is a short time to be free.

Free of fear. Free from worry.

“But?”

Birds scatter from a nearby tree, and Arlo follows their flight. Nix suspects it would be a mistake to think he was distracted.

“My lawyer,” Nix hesitates, then continues. “She found an old law where Jamie—or whoever—could fight, and it would mean…”

“Trial-by-combat. Hmm.”

Arlo tilts his head, turning his sharp gaze on Nix. It’s like he’s reading his mind.

“You want to do it.”

“…How did you know?”

Arlo’s jaw tightens. Then, matter-of-factly, he says, “Because if it were me? I’d want to protect my mates. I’d want to feel his bones crack under my teeth, pull his heart from his chest, and watch the light fade from his eyes.”

He exhales.

“For myself. Just to feel free.”

Nix sits forward, eager, relieved—finally, someone understands.

“That’s it. But they—” he waves a hand toward the house. “They won’t let us. They don’t think we can do it because we’re frail. Harmless. That we don’t deserve this reward for our suffering. That the Goddess hasn’t made us to protect and grow our pack. That we aren’t the strongest.”

It’s not entirely Nix’s voice.

Arlo shivers, his eyes wide.

His wolf is speaking.

The sheer novelty of being fully present while his wolf is doing the talking—is amazing. Maybe they really can reach that understanding.

“Sorry. My wolf is loud as heck.”

Now it’s Arlo’s turn to sit at attention.

“Your wolf is strong enough that he speaks through you?”

He has the same fascinated look Finn gets when he’s hearing something worth investigating.

“I’m just getting the hang of it, but I think so,” Nix shares ruefully.

Arlo looks like he has more questions, but then—he sucks in a sharp breath and rubs his belly over his jacket again.

Nix frowns. “Hey, are you okay? You look uncomfortable.”

Arlo tilts his head, considering him like he’s making a decision.

Then, wordlessly, he unwinds his scarf.

Two sets of white bites are exposed on either side of his neck.

Next, he shrugs off his jacket.

Then, one cardigan.

Another.

A third.

Until finally, he sits in just a white t-shirt.

And there—round, full, undeniable—is a very pregnant belly; it smells like bread and peaches.

And then it hits him.

The bread must be the baby.

Oh. My. Goddess.

Arlo is pregnant. Nix’s mouth drops open, his wolf surging forward with stunned recognition.

“Oh, my—you’re having a baby!” Nix’s smile is so broad his cheeks hurt with the effort.

Arlo rubs his belly again and sighs. “Eight more weeks, we think.”

“Eight?” Nix echoes, eyes widening.

“The Argentinian omega, Fernando, says it’s usually more than forty-two weeks, but this baby is impatient. Fernando has had three children—two alphas and an unpresented boy. They think he might be omega.”

“Congratulations! That’s amazing! But…are you alright?” Nix hesitates. “I have so many questions.”

Arlo laughs. “They’re just active. It takes some getting used to, but sure—go ahead. That’s why I came.”

“I’ll try to keep it PG so we can actually look each other in the eye afterward.”Nix grins. “I’ll try to do the same.”

They spend the next hour with Nix hiding his pink cheeks behind his hands while Arlo does his best not to TMI them into never wanting to see each other again.

As it is, Nix now knows way more about the Kennedys than he ever needed. He figures Arlo must feel the same about the Rhodes pack, thanks to his own questions.

Nix carefully avoids bringing up this afternoon’s orgasm explosion—because, really, some things are just too much.

By the end, though, he’s glad. Glad to have made a friend and, even more so—an ally.

Through the bond, Nix senses his mates growing antsy—Rowan especially hates being kept away.

Nix can practically hear him pacing, but he also knows Nix is happy—and for now, that’s enough to keep him at bay.

It’s no surprise when Arlo finally stands and rearranges his t-shirt, tugging it down over his belly.

“I should go, my pack at home is wondering where we are. Last thing, though, before we face them—well, two things. Firstly, I think you should do whatever your wolf is telling you is the right thing, Nix. They know us better than we know ourselves.”

Hearing Arlo say it like that makes it more real, somehow. “Do you really? They don’t understand.”

“I do. You said it before—we are…more.”

More. Omegas are more.

“We’re stronger. Faster and when necessary, we always do what needs to be done.”

Nix nods, wishing there was more time today for questions about noisy omega wolves.

“We are the original protectors of packs. The bringers of life. The enforcers.” Arlo’s voice is steady. “Fernando—our Argentinian friend—says the Goddess created us to know the value of life in its most basic form: the creation of it…and sometimes, the ending of it.”

His next words are unshakable.

“If you decide to do this—for yourself, for your pack—I believe you will absolutely be the victor.”

It sounds ludicrous. Impossible.

“But I don’t know the first thing about combat.”

Arlo tilts his head knowingly. “I know for a fact that Gideon does. And Jamie, too, to a lesser extent. But that leads me to my second point. If they won’t teach you, I will. And if push comes to shove, you can come to me at Kennedy House. We will harbor you.”

It feels like a declaration. A vow. An alliance between their packs—one that Nix has no real authority to make.

And yet…

It feels right—and appreciated more than the other man could ever know. For someone like him, who has not had many choices, this is a valuable gift. “It won’t come to that, but thank you. What about your Baby-on-Board, though?”

“It’s my area of expertise, and I have a feeling you’re a quick study. I’ll leave you with this.” Arlo hands him a small black card, the words Sentinel Security embossed in silver on the front. Below it, in crisp lettering:

Arlo Davis, Director of Operations.

“Now you know where to find me. My personal cell is on the back.”

Nix traces the embossed letters with his thumb, wishing he had a phone, but he already feels like enough of a burden on his new family. For now, though, it’s enough just knowing how to reach his new friend.

He helps Arlo pull on his sweaters, carefully wrapping the scarf around his neck. The other omega just carries the cedar-scented jacket with a grumble.

“Overkill, Logan.”

As they near the house, Nix notices something. His pack is no longer standing at the doors, as they had been when he and Arlo left, and when they step inside, the scene has shifted.

A round of whiskey sits in various stages of consumption.

Finn has his laptop out, typing furiously and taking notes.

Riordan told them, then.

Arlo is their friend—someone they’ve known forever, and yet, to the last, their eyes keep drifting to his abdomen.

Nix supposes it must be an adjustment—seeing a pregnant man, but staring is still bad manners.

Frowning, he asks after his friend’s comfort. “Arlo, would you like some tea or juice?” Nix can’t remember if pregnant people can drink coffee, but he knows with certainty that he can’t have whiskey.

“No, thank you, Nix.” Arlo shakes his head, adjusting his scarf. “Dan, we should get home before the others come looking.”

“Right, you are.” Riordan exhales, giving Nix a small nod. “Nix, I hope you had some of your questions answered. I hope you’ll forgive me for not telling you sooner. As you know, it is not our story to tell.”

Nix meets his gaze and nods. “Thank you. I hope I’ll see you again soon.”

He turns to Arlo, offering a small smile. “Arlo, stay well.”

“You too, Nix.” Arlo clasps his shoulder briefly, his expression warm. “And remember what I said.”

“I will.” Nix swallows, the weight of their conversation settling in. “Thank you.”

Jamie walks them to the door, and no one says a word, so Nix climbs onto Grayson’s lap and rests his head on his mate’s chest, feet under Leo’s thighs.

“You okay, baby?” Luca comes in from the kitchen, where he may or may not have been hiding. He’s got a skirt on again and has Finn’s button-up shirt tails tied at his tiny waist.

“Mmhmm. He’s having a baby. It smells like baking bread.”

Grayson squeezes him tighter, so Nix leans in, pressing a kiss to his neck.

“May I borrow your phone, Jamie? I would like to call Erin.”

Jamie stills. “Nix.” His voice is tight, his grip on their new mating bond suddenly insistent, tugging hard.

Gideon is already on his feet. “No.”

Detangling himself from Grayson, he stands and steps back, putting space between himself and his pack—just enough to see them all.

He has their attention. His wolf revels in it—there is love in their fear.

The only thing he can do is reward them with his truth.

“I’m going to do it, Jamie. Gideon, it’s my right.” His voice is steady, unyielding. “The things he did…maybe he did them to get at you—before or now. Maybe we’ll never know why, but he did them to me. To me.

“It is my right to make him pay—for every time I cried, every time I screamed. For every cut, every burn. For every broken bone, every torn muscle. For every minute, I spent cold, hungry, exhausted. For every rip and every tear. And for every single fucking minute of the last five years that he stole from me. From us.

“It is my right. And I am going to take it.”

There are larger consequences at stake—and maybe he’s not even meant to worry about them.

Maybe this is his fight to win—and the bigger things belong to fate, the Goddess, and the unseen network of omega advocates spanning the world.

Faith, Nix .

When he meets his mates’ eyes, one by one, he sees it all—tears, anger, fear. He knows this isn’t the end of it, not for Gideon. And especially not for Jamie, but that’s fine. He’s willing to fight them on this—just as much as he’s willing to fight for them.

Because when he meets Dawson Hayes on the field, his torturer will take his last breath—knowing Nix was the one who ripped it from his lungs.