16. Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Sixteen
Mira
T he slow tide of consciousness returns, and with it comes immediate panic. I'm pinned between two massive alpha bodies. My heart races, my muscles tense for flight, but then their scents register properly.
Smoked cedar and spiced vanilla. Dark amber and citrus. The combination wraps around me, carrying nothing but profound exhaustion and... care? There's no aggression in their scents, no dominance, no threat. Just the lingering traces of protection and concern.
It doesn't make sense. Alphas always want to dominate, to control, to own. That's what experience has proven time and again. But these two...
I force my eyes open, needing visual confirmation of what my nose is telling me. The morning light filtering through the closet door illuminates their faces, and what I see makes me pause in my planned escape.
They look... peaceful. Vulnerable, even. Adrian's face presses against my hair, his mask of control completely gone in sleep. Zane's arm across my waist isn't restraining. It's protective, like he's trying to shield me from harm, even in unconsciousness.
Adrian's hair is a tangled mess, dark circles under his eyes visible. Zane's face shows several days of stubble. They both look like they've been through a war, and in a way, they have. We all have.
My hand flies to my neck, fingers trembling as I search for puncture marks, for the scarring of a claiming bite. Nothing. Just smooth, unmarked skin. Well, as unmarked as any other part of my body. I touch old scars. No fresh wounds. No bonding bite. Relief floods through me, followed by confusion.
They could have claimed me. I was in heat. I would have begged for it, and they would have been in their rights to do so. The thought makes me flush with shame. But they didn't. They helped me through my heat without taking that final, irreversible step, which makes me more confused than ever.
Fragments of memory filter through the heat-haze… gentle touches, soft questions, constant requests for permission. May I touch you here? Is this okay? Tell us what you need. Their voices were always tender, their hands careful, giving me choices when I was at my most vulnerable. Even lost to my heat, they asked for consent. Always asking, never taking.
There are only the three of us here. Cole never joined us, even though I have memories of him standing on the cusp of the closet practically vibrating with lust.
He rejected me.
It was the best outcome I could have hoped for. One less alpha to fear, to fight against. But something deep inside keens at his absence.
I wasn’t good enough. I wasn’t worthy enough. The thought sends a spike of pain through my chest that makes no sense .
I shouldn't care.
I shouldn't want his approval, his touch, his presence.
He shouldn’t take up space in this hollow place inside me.
None of this makes sense. Panic builds, my breath coming faster. The world spins, and I’m…uncertain. Their kindness, their gentleness, their thoughtfulness, their scents, that make me want to burrow deeper into them and drift back to sleep. It is too confusing.
I try to ease from between them, but my muscles are wet paper, my limbs too heavy to coordinate. The attempt to move sends a deep ache shooting through my core, evidence of hours, maybe days, of heat-driven coupling. Panic claws up my throat when I realize I can't extract myself from their embrace.
Adrian's eyes snap open, instantly alert. The transition from deep sleep to full awareness is startling. His hazel eyes pin me in place, and then...
He smiles.
My heart does something complicated in my chest. He looks... happy. Genuinely, radiantly happy to be here in this pathetic nest on a closet floor, surrounded by my threadbare blankets and borrowed clothes. His smile transforms his whole face, softening the sharp alpha features into something boyish.
He's beautiful. The thought hits me, unwanted yet undeniable. Even disheveled from days of tending to my heat, even with stubble darkening his jaw and shadows under his eyes, he's breathtaking.
No. No no no . I can't think like this. Can't notice these things. Can't let myself feel...
My breathing speeds up, the panic returning full force. Adrian's smile fades to concern.
“You're okay. We've got you,” he murmurs, his scent shifting to project calm and safety.
But that's exactly what terrifies me.
They have me in their arms in a penthouse I can’t escape from.
And some traitorous part of me wants them to keep me .
Zane stirs beside me, his blue eyes blinking open. He scents the air and something like regret crosses his face, softening his strong features. “Your heat has broken,” he murmurs, voice rough from sleep.
My mind immediately jumps to the worst conclusion. Of course he's disappointed. Days of readily available omega sex, gone. No more heat-drunk body begging for his knot. I hate myself for the thought almost immediately, especially when his next action is to press a gentle kiss to my shoulder.
“Hungry?” he asks softly, his thumb tracing circles on my hip. As if summoned by the question, my stomach lets out an embarrassingly loud growl that echoes in the confined space of the closet.
His answering smile is devastating, all white teeth and crinkled eyes and…and…kindness. These alphas shouldn't be this beautiful. It's not fair. Beauty like this is dangerous. It makes you want to believe in things like safety and protection and forever.
He stretches as he stands. The movement displays his muscled frame in a way that makes my mouth go dry. “I'll grab some food.”
I take in his naked form as he steps from the nest - all rippling muscle and golden skin. He's a Greek statue come to life, powerful yet graceful and completely unselfconscious as he bends to retrieve a pair of boxers from the floor, treating me to another spectacular view before covering himself. I wish there were no clothes in reach. I wish he never had to wear clothes again.
“Be back soon, Omega.” He throws me a wink before leaving the closet, and I remind myself that this is temporary. That beauty can hide darkness. That kindness always comes with a price.
“Would you like to stay here and wait for breakfast?” Adrian asks, still holding me with that gentle touch that makes no sense. He should be at work. A man like him must have meetings, responsibilities. The thought of him taking days off to tend to a random omega's heat is absurd.
Then Dr. Maverick's words come rushing back. They started Pinnacle . These alphas aren't just executives or employees. They own Pinnacle Therapeutics. The only company legally allowed to manufacture suppressants and scent blockers .
Everything clicks into place with sickening clarity. Their scents in the luxury offices I cleaned. The luxury penthouse above their company. The obvious wealth. The designer clothes in this closet. The way they can take days off to tend to an omega in heat without consequence. They're getting rich off omega suffering, controlling the very medications we need to survive.
Every omega who's ever had to choose between food and suppressants, every omega who's had to debase themselves to afford medication, every omega who's been forced to register with an alpha just to access basic healthcare… it all leads back here.
To them.
Adrian's frown is immediate, his body tensing behind me. “What is it? What just changed? What are you thinking?”
I try to school my features, to hide my revelation, but it's too late. He's already scenting my fear, my anger, my sense of betrayal. I try to pull away from his touch, but I'm still too weak from the heat and all I manage is to flop away a fraction.
“Now my heat is over, I'm leaving.” The words come out strong, even though my body trembles with exhaustion.
Adrian's arm tightens around my waist for a brief moment—so brief I almost think I imagined it—before he slowly withdraws. The loss of his warmth makes me shiver, though I tell myself it's just a physical reaction, nothing more.
“If that's what you want,” he says quietly. “It's your choice, Mira.”
Those words stop me cold.
“My choice ?” I can't keep the bitterness from my voice. “Like how omegas have a 'choice' about suppressants? About registration? About which alpha gets to control their access to basic medication?”
He stills behind me. “You know about us.”
“That you don’t just work at Pinnacle? That you own it?” I force myself to turn and face him, though my muscles protest the movement. “That you three control the only company legally allowed to manufacture suppressants? That you profit from omega desperation? Yes, Dr. Maverick filled me in. ”
His hazel eyes widen, something like pain crossing his features. “Is that what you think we—”
“Tell me I'm wrong,” I challenge, though my voice shakes. “Tell me you don't make millions while omegas like me have to choose between eating and staying safe.”
The silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken words and accusations. I wait for him to deny it, to justify it, to show his true alpha colors.
Instead, he looks... heartbroken.
And that's the most confusing response of all.
“Things aren't what they seem,” Adrian says, his eyes holding mine. I force myself to maintain eye contact, to show strength even when my body trembles as I sit up and lean against the opposite wall. I hold my ratty blanket over me, ignoring the deeper scents of slick and cum infusing every strand of the fabric. “We don't control the legislation about suppressants and scent blockers. If we did, we’d make much more product and distribute it everywhere.”
I let out a bitter laugh, though it hurts my raw throat. “Right. The only legal manufacturers just happen to have no say in—”
“Senator Hardwick controls the legislation.” His scent carries notes of frustration and... pain? “She blocks every attempt we make to increase production, to lower prices, to make distribution more accessible.”
And I can definitely believe that from first-hand experience. She’s all about omega submission. I blink, thrown by the genuine regret in his voice. He rakes his hand through his disheveled hair, leaving it standing even more on end.
“We've been fighting for years to change things,” he continues. “To make suppressants available to omegas without their alpha’s approval, to increase omega autonomy in healthcare decisions. But Hardwick...” His jaw clenches. “Has her own agenda.”
I want to dismiss his words as lies, as manipulation, but his scent carries no deception, only endless frustration and what might be genuine concern.
“Why should I believe you?” My voice comes out smaller than intended, betraying my uncertainty .
“You cleaned our offices. Did you see any omega restraints? Any registration equipment? Any of the tools Hardwick claims are necessary for 'omega management'?” he asks.
I hadn't. In fact, the offices looked normal. No special security beyond standard measures, no omega-specific restrictions. Apart from their scents, which had driven me into this heat. But trust has been beaten out of me too thoroughly to accept this easily. “Pretty words,” I manage, though my conviction wavers. “Convenient explanations.”
“Look into my eyes,” he says softly. “Scent me. Tell me I'm lying.”
I do, against my better judgment. His scent is clear, honest, tinged with desperation for me to understand.
Adrian's expression shifts. Pain darkens his eyes and a muscle jumps in his cheek as he swallows hard. “If you want to leave, we'll help you. But you can't go back to that apartment. It's not safe. We’ll set you up with money, a new place, whatever you need to be secure.”
My hands clench in the blankets as I wait for the ‘but’ and yet it doesn’t come. He sits still. Doesn't reach for me. Doesn't try to touch me. Doesn't attempt to use his alpha bark or authority to influence my decision. The restraint is visible in every line of his body, in the careful way he maintains distance. The way he keeps his scent neutral despite his obvious distress.
“We won't stop you. It's your choice. Your life. But please...” His voice catches, breaks, reforms. “At least let us help you recover from your heat properly. Let us make sure you're healthy before you go. I couldn’t live with myself knowing you’d go out there and I did nothing to help you stay hidden.”