Chapter 3
Luca
“You sure you got them, Cupcake?” Blake asks through the phone. “I really can...”
I laugh into the earpiece. “I promise I’ve got our babies.
You need to focus and the Omegas here really do like the kids.
” After Grayson and Maceo sent me a text to pick up the kids on my way to Ember House, I didn’t hesitate.
Mostly because I know that without the kids at the office, Grayson and Luther will be able to force Blake to eat.
I still don’t understand why he’s stressing out so much.
Or why he won’t let us help him. I let out a small sigh and twist my ring around my finger, the way I always do when Blake's voice sounds thinner than he wants me to notice.
The band's warm from my skin, familiar enough that I don't realize I'm doing it half the time. Five years and I still fidget with it like it might disappear if I stop checking. I look out the window to see the sanctuary that’s come so far over the years.
The afternoon light at Ember House always feels different than the light in the city. It's softer, filtered through the thick canopy of maples that guard the northern edge of the property, spilling across the wide garden beds in long, honey-colored ribbons.
When I pull the SUV into the gravel drive, the crunch of the stones under the tires sounds like a homecoming.
Even after five years, this place still makes my lungs expand a little further, as if the air itself knows it's allowed to be here.
In the city, every siren is a heartbeat; here, the only rhythm is the wind through the leaves and the distant, rhythmic thud of a hammer from the new construction wing.
"We're here! The boss is here!" Rosalie announces from her car seat, kicking her legs with enough rhythm to shake the upholstery, her hazel eyes already scanning the porch for someone to command.
To her, Ember House isn’t just a sanctuary for rescued Omegas; it’s just the big house with the best art supplies and the people who always laugh at her jokes. She sees the residents not as survivors, but as potential subjects in her sprawling, glitter-fueled empire.
Samuel is already unbuckling his harness with frantic, clumsy fingers. "I'm gonna find the frogs. James, come on, let's go find the frogs in the pond."
James, who has been quietly staring at a handheld circuit board the entire drive, looks up with a serious frown.
"The water is too cold for the frogs to be active today, Sam.
They're probably in the mud." He adjusts his glasses, his small face a perfect, miniature echo of Blake's when he’s deep in a coding spiral.
He has that same way of tilting his head, a clinical curiosity that masks a very deep, very quiet brand of empathy.
"Then we'll dig them up," Samuel counters, and before I can even reach for the door handle, he’s out of his seat and vaulting over the center console like a tiny, caffeinated gymnast. He has no concept of personal space or physical limits, a trait that both terrifies me and makes me ache with gratitude that he felt so safe in his own skin.
"Samuel, wait for Maceo," I call out, but it’s useless. He’s already a blur of denim and energy hitting the gravel with a triumphant shout.
Maceo catches him by the back of his shirt before he can make a break for the flower beds, his laughter a low, grounding rumble that seems to settle the chaos instantly. He hoists Samuel onto his hip, ignoring the boy's indignant squawk, and turns back to help Rosalie out.
"I've got the ground troops, sweetheart," Maceo muses, meeting my eyes over the roof of the car.
"Go ahead. Get settled. I'll keep them in the activity room until they've successfully negotiated for snacks.
I think James wants to show the library staff his new soldering kit.
I'll make sure he doesn't actually set anything on fire. "
I walk around to join them, pausing as Maceo reaches out to straighten the collar of my sweater.
His fingers linger for a second, a warm brush of skin against my neck that makes my own scent flare with a quiet contentment.
I reach up, brushing a few fingers across his cheek before leaning up to kiss him.
It’s become easier to take what I want, to know that this life is mine, that the happiness we’ve curated isn’t something I have to chase anymore. Maceo purrs against my lips, my body warming up from the inside. Before something happens, I pull back, Rosalie tugging at my shirt for attention.
"You're sure?" I ask, my voice dropping a little. "I can take Rosalie with me if she's being too much of a boss today. I know she can be... persistent."
"I am the boss!" Rosalie shouts, patting my arm with a sticky hand that probably smells like the orange slices she'd eaten earlier.
Maceo grins, the expression small but real.
"See? We have our orders. Besides, you have that intake meeting.
Go. Be the heart of this place. We'll be fine.
" He leans in, pressing another quick, firm kiss to my lips.
"Did Blake actually eat that protein bar I put in his bag, or did he just drink three espressos and call it a day? "
I sigh, leaning my forehead against his shoulder for a brief, steadying heartbeat.
"I don’t know why he’s pushing so hard. Grayson said he got Blake to eat some fries and then a cucumber sandwich from the deli.
But beyond that? He views lunch as a distraction from the architecture of the game.
I'll call him later and check his sugar levels.
I might have to threaten to send you and Luther over there to physically feed him. "
“Do that. Otherwise, Luther will start scent-pushing the entire office out of sheer anxiety,” Maceo murmurs.
He gives my waist a final, supportive squeeze before turning toward the house, Samuel still tucked under one arm, James holding his free hand, and Rosalie leading the way like a miniature queen.
I watch them go, my Gamma and our children walking into a place that feels safe because we made it that way.
Some days, the sight still catches in my chest. There was a time when I couldn’t imagine a front door opening for me without fear on the other side, and now my children run through one like peace is something they’ve always known.
Inside, Ember House smells like floor wax, lavender, and the yeasty, comforting scent of fresh bread rising in the kitchen.
It’s a deliberate landscape, designed to be the opposite of the sterile, cold environments many of the residents escaped.
There are no harsh lights here, only the soft glow of lamps and the wide, uncurtained windows that look out over the valley.
In the hallway, I pass a pair of Omegas I recognize, two younger men hunched over an art table, their fingers stained with charcoal as they sketch the trees outside.
They don't flinch when I walk by. They don't even look up.
That is the real victory, that they feel safe enough to be distracted, safe enough to lose themselves in a piece of paper.
I’m heading toward my office when I see Blossom, a sharp-eyed Omega from Hearthstone who frequently volunteers in the kitchens.
She’s carrying a heavy tray of muffins, her face breaking into a wide, mischievous grin the moment she sees me.
Blossom is a force of nature, all sharp wit and mothering instincts, a woman who can stare down a disgruntled Alpha and make him apologize for his tone without raising her voice.
"Luca! Just in time. I made the lemon ones with the extra glaze because I knew you were coming," she says, shifting the tray to one hip.
She leans in, her voice dropping to a theatrical whisper.
"Your Gamma is currently being held hostage in the activity room.
I saw Rosalie trying to convince him that the children's union has decided on a four-cookie-per-hour minimum wage.
She's already drafting the bylaws on a napkin. "
Which means that a lot of gibberish is coming out of her mouth that sounds bossy enough to keep her in charge. I laugh, the sound bubbling up easily. "He's a soft touch. She'll have him signing the contract and offering a dental plan by dinner."
Blossom’s expression sobers slightly, her gaze flickering toward the hallway leading to the intake wing.
"Listen, while I have you, I was talking to Lorenzo this morning.
He's looking at the books for the new therapy wing.
The plumbing estimates came back twenty percent higher than we thought because of the drainage on the hill, and we're still looking for the final funding for the secure intake suites.
We want them finished before the winter surge.
We're already getting calls from three counties over. "
I nod, the weight of the responsibility settling back onto my shoulders. Ember House is a dream, but it’s an expensive one. We don't just provide beds; we provide a future and there’s been an influx of battered Omegas over the years, not just the ones from Hearthstone.
"I know. I'm meeting with Blake's finance team tomorrow.
Keller Industries is having a record quarter with the new Starlight Falls release.
We'll find the money, Blossom. I won't let the suites stay unfinished.
If I have to, I'll go through every line item in the marketing budget myself and find the fat to trim. "
"I know you won't let us down," she says, patting my arm. Her eyes soften, scanning my face. "Just don't forget to eat one of those muffins. You're looking a little thin, little koala. Does Luther need me to send over a crate of pasta? Or maybe some of that heavy cream soup he likes?"
"I'm fine, Blossom. Truly. I've just been busy," I promise, though I know better than to argue with her when she’s in a feeding mood. She has a way of looking right through my excuses. But the fact that I’m looking a little rough for wear tells me that our family needs a moment away from the chaos.