21. Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-One
Mira
I surface slowly from the deepest sleep I've had in years, becoming aware of warmth, safety, and a steady heartbeat under my ear. For a moment, I'm disoriented. My body is heavy, relaxed in a way I can't remember experiencing. No nightmares. No terror. Just... rested.
Reality filters in gradually. I'm curled against Zane's chest, his arm protective around me. On the TV, a football game plays at low volume, different from the animated movie we started. How long have I been asleep? Hours, at least. Long enough for the movie to have played through.
He stayed while I slept. This powerful alpha sat here, holding me, guarding my sleep, for hours. He could have moved me, could have gone about his day... but he didn't.
He stayed holding me against him.
Heat floods my cheeks as I realize my hand is clutched in his shirt. I have to fight the urge to burrow closer when his scent engulfs me and tugs .
“Hey, sleepyhead,” he murmurs, his chest rumbling under my cheek. His hand strokes gently down my spine and a small shiver works through my body.
“I'm sorry,” I manage, my voice rough with sleep. “I didn't mean to—”
“To get the rest you desperately needed?” His tone is light, but there is concern underneath. “To trust me enough to sleep? To let me hold you?”
His scent surrounds me, sinking into my very pores. It calls to something I never knew was inside me. Something that recognizes him as... as what? Safe? More than safe.
Like his scent was crafted specifically to complement mine, to soothe my jagged edges.
I shouldn't be this way. Shouldn't let myself rise to meet his alpha presence like a flower turning toward the sun. Alphas use their scent as tools of control. Scents are designed to make omegas submit, but Zane's scent doesn't demand submission. It offers comfort, protection, belonging.
The thought terrifies me even as my body melts further into his embrace. How can his scent affect me so strongly? Even during my heat, when biology demanded alpha contact, I've never felt this... this recognition. This infinite certainty that I'm exactly where I should be.
Adrian's scent affects me the same way, calling to distant parts of myself. Even Cole's leather and pine makes something in me keen with want, despite his rejection. It's like their scents were made for me, or mine for them, and I don’t understand .
The rich aroma of roast beef drifts into the room, garlic and herbs, caramelized onions, the deep smell of perfectly cooked meat. My stomach growls in an embarrassingly loud manner, betraying my hunger despite how much I've eaten today already. More food than I've had in months, really. I should be ashamed of my greed and learn to control these base needs better.
But Zane only smiles down at me… and, oh , his smile transforms his face. The sharp alpha features soften into something devastatingly beautiful, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. He's handsome even when serious, but when he smiles, the sun comes out from behind clouds, warming everything it touches.
Including me.
Pain lances through my heart. I can't stay here, surrounded by their kindness, their gentle touches, their devastating smiles. I've already lingered too long, let myself grow too comfortable even though it’s barely a day out of my heat because…the longer I stay, the harder it will be to leave.
I have to leave sooner rather than later and… why is this a hard decision?
I need to disappear. These are the owners of Pinnacle Therapeutics and I know enough about Senator Hardwick to risk all of their lives.
“Adrian's been cooking all afternoon,” Zane says, his thumb still tracing gentle circles on my shoulder. The casual touch sends warmth through my tired muscles. “He stress-cooks when he's worried. You should see him during quarterly reviews. We end up with enough food to feed an army.”
Heat floods my cheeks. “He shouldn't... an alpha shouldn’t cook for an omega.” The words come out automatically, drilled into me by years of conditioning. ' An omega's purpose is to serve, not be served .'
Zane's hand stills. “Why not? Cole cooks. As do I. Well sometimes, but between Adrian and Cole it's hard to get into the kitchen. Besides, they cook so well and I’ve been known to burn water.”
I ignore his adorable rambling.
“It's not... it's not proper.” I swallow hard, remembering endless lectures about omega submission, about natural order, about staying in our place. “Omegas serve alphas, not the other way around. ”
“You just had your heat. It's our privilege to care for our omega after…”
My heart races at the possessive term. I'm not their omega. I'm not anyone's omega. I can't be. Being an omega, being claimed, being owned, is too dangerous. Care will turn into control. Privilege will become possession. Gentle touches will transform into restraints. Kindness—this kindness—is the first step toward ownership.
The urge to leave claws at my chest. I've stayed too long, let them be too kind. I fell asleep on the couch in Zane’s arms, for God’s sake.
“What's wrong?” Zane’s arm tightens around me, protective rather than possessive, and that somehow makes it worse. “Your scent just—”
“Nothing.” I force a smile, though it feels brittle. My hands tremble slightly, and I clench them in my lap. “Just hungry, I guess.”
He doesn't believe me. I can see it in his eyes, but he doesn't push, doesn't demand answers. Doesn't use his alpha authority to force the truth from me.
“Come on. Let’s eat dinner. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.” His arm remains steady around me as he helps me to my feet when my legs wobble. The weakness frustrates me. I've survived so long on my own strength, and now my body betrays me with every shaking step.
Coupled with the weakness, heat still simmers under my skin, a low, persistent warmth that shouldn't be there anymore. My heat should be done, but something is not right about it. The wrongness makes anxiety curl in my stomach, but the smell of dinner pushes all thoughts aside.
Zane keeps a supportive hand at my lower back as we enter the kitchen, his touch gentle but grounding. Adrian stands at the stove, commanding the space like he was born to it. His sleeves are rolled up to reveal strong forearms dusted with dark hair, his expensive shirt protected by an apron that looks natural on him. He moves with easy grace between multiple pots, adding seasonings here, stirring there, completely absorbed in his task. There's something mesmerizing about watching such a powerful alpha engaged in a domestic activity.
When he turns and sees me, his whole face lights up with a smile. His hazel eyes warm with genuine pleasure at my presence, like my appearance in his kitchen is a gift rather than an intrusion. The stone in my stomach eases at the simple acceptance in his expression.
The kitchen is warm and domestic, with soft lighting, bubbling pots, and the scent of good food and caring alphas. I’m stepping into a dream I never allowed myself, but there’s a hole because Cole isn’t here.
I shouldn't notice how the kitchen is unbalanced without his presence.
But I do.
“Cole went to the office after his workout.” Zane helps me settle at the kitchen island. My head snaps up, surprised he read my thoughts so easily. A knowing smile plays at his lips, softening his strong features. “We're pack. We notice when one of us is missing.”
But I'm not pack. I'm nothing, just a stray omega they helped through her heat. The words stick in my throat, so instead, I focus on the plate Adrian sets before me… roast beef cooked to a perfect medium-rare, the meat glistening with its own juices, vegetables glazed with herbs that make my mouth water, potatoes that smell like butter and garlic and heaven itself.
The meal takes me back to my childhood. To better times. To when I thought I was a beta child and life was simple. Mom used to cook a roast for Sunday dinner. She’d cook enough that we’d have leftovers on Monday. I’d forgotten about that. She liked to cook just as Adrian does. I shrug off the memories before they curdle.
“Adrian almost became a chef, you know,” Zane says, accepting his own plate with a grin. He settles beside me, his thigh brushing mine in a casual touch that sends warmth through my body. “Before we started Pinnacle.”
“Really?” The word escapes before I can stop it, genuine curiosity coloring my voice. I shouldn't engage, shouldn't show interest, shouldn't give them more reasons to keep me here, but Adrian's cooking smells divine, and their easy presence makes something in me want to find out more.
“You know I didn’t, brother. I just like to dabble,” Adrian chides, his cheeks coloring slightly. The flush makes him look younger, more approachable. Less like the powerful alpha who runs a pharmaceutical empire and more like someone I could get used to in my life .
Don’t think like that.
I take a bite of the beef and have to suppress a moan as the flavors bloom across my palate.
“Good?” Adrian asks. There’s something vulnerable in his expression, like my opinion actually matters. Like he genuinely wants to please me rather than just feed me.
I nod, not trusting my voice. Each bite is a revelation, the crisp exterior of the potatoes giving way to fluffy insides seasoned with herbs and butter, the vegetables still having bite rather than being mushy, the gravy rich and complex with layers of flavor.
“The more he wants to impress, the more elaborate the meal. This is definitely a three-star dinner,” Zane stage-whispers to me, his breath warm against my ear.
“It’s worthy of five stars and you know it.” Adrian throws a dish towel at him with perfect aim, and they fall into easy banter. The kitchen fills with their laughter, their scents mixing in the air to create something that feels dangerously like home.
Like family.
The easy domesticity of the scene makes my heart ache with longing. The way Adrian and Zane interact speaks of years of friendship, of trust, of genuine love. Just like it was for me with Mom and Dad before I ruined everything when my omega designation came in.
They’d still be alive if it weren’t for me. If I was a beta, I wouldn’t have had a birthday at Haven. I would have been at home where I wanted to be.
These alphas’ bond is obvious in every shared glance, every inside joke, every comfortable silence. The way Zane steals a roast carrot from Adrian's plate and gets his hand playfully swatted, the way Adrian automatically refills Zane's water without being asked. The little moments paint a picture of deep connection.
They must be like this with Cole too, when he's here. I'm the reason he's staying away, the reason their pack is fractured right now. I'm coming between them, disrupting what was clearly a perfect harmony before I arrived. My fork clatters from my fingers to the plate .
I don’t belong.
Just like I’ll never have my parents back, I’ll never belong to a family ever again.