Kept By the Pack (North Coast Omegaverse #6)

Prologue

MILLIE

The news anchor’s voice trembles through the television, the picture shaking slightly as though even the camera can’t keep still. My stomach twists. The screen flashes with a live aerial shot—flames stretching over the rooftops of Driftwood Cove like a monster finally released.

My town. My home.

The crawl at the bottom of the screen reads: Harbor Road Pile-Up—Multiple Vehicles, Ongoing Fire Response.

I can’t blink. Can’t breathe. The heat from the blaze on the screen feels too real, like it’s pressing against my skin.

“This is bad,” I whisper, and my voice sounds small in the empty room. “This is so, so bad.”

The light from the TV paints the walls of my apartment in orange. It’s the only light on. Outside, the city hums with the same uneasy silence that’s been clinging to everyone since the first sirens started hours ago.

A soft sound breaks through—the smallest, most fragile cry. I glance down and find Nimbus staring up at me from the couch cushion beside my thigh, his golden eyes wide and wet. His tail curls around himself, the tip twitching nervously.

“Hey, baby,” I murmur, reaching for him. His fur, pale gray and white, is warm beneath my hand. He presses his face into my palm like he always does when he’s scared. “It’s okay. You’re safe here.”

I rescued him a month ago from the alley behind the bakery. He was half-starved, hiding behind a stack of crates, trying to lick the icing off a discarded cupcake wrapper.

I remember sitting in the rain for an hour, coaxing him closer with tiny pieces of croissant until he finally crawled into my lap. I hadn’t even planned to keep him, but the second he purred against my chest, there was no way I was letting him go.

Now he’s trembling again, like he knows something’s wrong. Maybe he does. Animals always seem to.

A knock jolts me from the trance. Three short taps, then one louder. Familiar.

“Come in,” I call, my throat tight.

The door opens, and a rush of cold air slips in before the man behind it does. Liam Bennett.

Helmet under his arm. Curly chestnut hair plastered slightly to his forehead from sweat. His jacket’s unzipped, revealing a black T-shirt stretched over his lean chest.

He smells like rain, gasoline, and the faint trace of roasted coffee that’s followed him around since high school. Normally that scent is comforting, but tonight it’s laced with something harsher. Smoke.

“Hey,” he says softly, voice rough from the chill.

“Hey. You know you’re not supposed to be riding. Cops told everyone to stay inside.”

He scoffs like he always does whenever cops are mentioned. “Since when do I listen to what they say?”

I’m not about to have the same discussion. Everyone knows he dislikes the police force. My eyes drag back to the screen as if pulled by gravity.

He sets the helmet down by the door, then crosses the room in a few long strides. His gaze lands on the TV, and his expression tightens. “It’s worse than they’re saying.”

“How bad?”

“Whole stretch of Harbor’s gone. Cars piled up everywhere. Fire jumped from the gas station to the old post office.” He rubs his hand through his curls, shaking his head. “They’re evacuating the north side. My mom’s café is just outside the zone, so it’s fine for now, but…”

He doesn’t finish. He doesn’t have to.

“Have you heard from Maddox?” he asks.

At the mention of our best friend’s name, my chest pulls tight. I shake my head. “No. Nothing.”

Liam exhales, long and heavy. He sits beside me, the couch dipping under his weight. “He’s out there.”

“I know.”

He takes my hand, his fingers sliding between mine. “He knows what he’s doing, Mills. He’ll be okay.”

The reassurance should help. It doesn’t.

The anchor’s voice cracks again, and I realize my vision’s gone blurry. A tear hits the back of my hand before I even register it.

Liam moves closer. “Hey, hey—don’t do that.”

He brushes a thumb under my cheek, gentle but sure, and I feel the pad of his skin against the damp trail he wipes away.

“This is scary,” I whisper.

“I know, babe.” His voice softens, that deep tone that’s always had a way of disarming me. “Come here.”

I fold into him before I even realize I’ve moved. His arms wrap around me, and the world outside disappears. The warmth of him seeps into my bones. He strokes slow circles along my back, the fabric of my shirt catching slightly beneath his rough fingertips.

The silence stretches, punctuated only by the muffled TV and Nimbus’s soft meow.

“Have you heard from anyone at the library?” Liam asks after a while.

“I talked to Shepard earlier.”

“The director guy?”

I nod. “Yeah. He said they’re keeping watch but to stay away.”

“Good.”

I glance up at him. His jaw’s tight, his eyes shadowed but alert. He’s been out there, riding through the chaos just to check on me. The thought makes something hot and tender bloom behind my ribs.

Nimbus hops down from the cushion and climbs into Liam’s lap without hesitation, curling into a perfect little ball. Liam huffs a small laugh, scratching behind the cat’s ear. “Hey bud.”

“He likes you,” I say, a hint of relief creeping into my tone. “Probably because you feed him too many treats.”

He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You eaten anything?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Millie—”

“Please,” I interrupt. My voice cracks. “Don’t. Just hold me.”

He nods, no argument.

I rest my head against his shoulder again. His T-shirt smells faintly of detergent and the road, and beneath it, that warm, familiar scent I’ve always associated with him. Cinnamon and coffee. Comfort.

“Where’s your mom right now?”

He exhales against my hair. “She and Aunt Dee are staying home for now. Power’s flickered in and out, but it’s safe.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah.”

His thumb traces over the back of my hand.

“You okay?” he asks.

I look up at him, and for a second, everything feels too still. The TV flashes another headline—Firefighters Missing in Action—and I can’t stop my gaze from catching on the word “missing.”

The air shifts between us.

My eyes drop to his throat. His Adam’s apple moves as he swallows. I want to look higher, want to meet his eyes, but I don’t. I can’t. Because I already know what’s there.

The unspoken thing. The thing I’ve been pretending not to see for years.

He tightens his hold just slightly, his chin brushing the top of my head. “I’ve got you,” he murmurs.

I close my eyes.

Nimbus shifts in his lap, purring softly.

We stay like that, the three of us suspended in that small pocket of warmth while everything outside the window glows orange and angry. The wind carries faint sirens from the distance, and somewhere, a dog barks.

Liam’s hand moves up and down my spine.

The screen changes to live footage from Harbor Road again. A mass of flashing lights and firefighters moving through smoke. I scan every helmet, every reflective stripe, desperate for a glimpse of Maddox’s broad shoulders, his stance, anything familiar. But there’s nothing. Just blur and flame.

Liam feels me stiffen and pulls me closer.

“I’ve got you,” he repeats. His voice is quieter this time, almost a whisper.

Nimbus stretches, then curls tighter against him. I stroke the cat’s fur, trying to focus on the softness, the warmth—anything to keep my thoughts from spiraling.

My body starts to relax, exhaustion creeping in and replacing my panic. Liam’s hand keeps moving in slow circles against my back. The sound of the news fades into the background hum.

“Millie,” he murmurs after a while. “We’ll get through this. You hear me?”

“Yeah.”

But I don’t believe it.

His lips brush the top of my head. It’s not a kiss, not really. Just contact. Reassurance.

I tilt my face slightly, catching the faint warmth of his breath against my temple. The noise outside the window seems to fade. My mind finally stills.