41. Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-One
Phoenix
W e’ve already spent the better part of three hours hunched over blueprints, scattered laptops, and a handful of burner phones.
My back aches, and I flex stiff fingers as I pace behind the table, tension coiled tight beneath my ribs.
Contingency plans layered upon more contingency plans twist through my mind like tangled threads, knots of worry forming in my gut as I chase each possible scenario to its conclusion.
Asher is leaning over the blueprint of the Aegis Gala's venue, tapping against certain points on the map. Across the table sits Soren, fingers flying over his keyboard as he reprograms our encrypted comms, eyes scanning lines of code far faster than I can follow.
“Adrian, Zane, and Cole are patched in again,” Soren calls over his shoulder.
Relief settles briefly through me at their names.
They're the best damn backup we could've hoped for.
Frankly, the only outside alphas I would trust anywhere near Emma, but even their presence isn't enough to soothe the anxiety pumping through my veins.
I sink into a chair at the sound of their voices through the speaker, tapping the blunt edge of a pen against my thigh.
“We'll have Pack Hawthorne positioned strategically throughout the venue. No one is going in or out of that building without eyes on them,” Adrian says.
A faint scowl creases Soren’s brows. “Don't underestimate the reach of the commissioner's influence. They'll likely have ex-military assets. If they're cornered, locking down whole floors won't be out of the question.”
I glance up, unsettled. “Security will involve cops too. They'll have APBs out on us. Doesn't help that we're technically wanted by half the precinct.”
I can’t help pushing to my feet again, unease crackling along every nerve. “We need a contingency if this shit goes sideways fast. What if they get spooked and try running with Leah in the chaos, or if she panics and tries bolting? We all know the kind of shape she's likely to be in.”
Soren rubs his fingers over his mouth. “Our original strategy still holds. All nine of us will enter together. No one splits up. Nobody wanders off solo. Once we have Leah secure, we make absolutely sure the commissioner doesn't slip away in the confusion. Anyone involved—and that includes Pack Carmichael, Carmichaels’ buyers, and the commissioner’s hired guns—doesn't get out.”
“All of it while staying incognito, until the exact moment we decide to let hell erupt.” Asher folds his arms over his chest. “Everyone wears body cams. All conversations, every second of footage recorded clearly. This isn't just a rescue anymore. It’s crucial evidence to clear our names. It has to be ironclad, undeniable.”
Cole’s voice rumbles through the speaker. “I’ll back it all up real-time off site. Any attempt by the commissioner to push back or bury this will trigger a full drop to every investigative journalist, press contact, and internal affairs hotline in the city.”
As reassuring as his confidence is, I can't shake the bitter truth that we’re teetering close to a line we can't come back from. Our tactics, however noble, certainly don't fall neatly into the bounds of law and order. Pack Blackwood can’t risk leaving any openings that could later see the whole thing dismissed in court. If Asher and my packmates end up incarcerated, repercussions won’t stop there.
Pinnacle Therapeutics would grind to a halt, depriving countless omegas of support, medication, and protection they desperately need.
We simply can't let it get that far.
I clear my throat, interrupting the grim silence.
“We might need an ace up our sleeve. One powerful enough to legitimize our actions and testify on our behalf if this blows back legally. Someone inside, independent, unimpeachable.” I shift as the others watch me, saying the only name who might be close to trustworthy. “Someone like Kevin Dawson.”
Soren’s brows lift sharply. For the first time since we began the planning, he stills briefly, hands pausing above his keyboard. “Are you sure we can trust him?”
I hesitate. “I'm not a hundred percent sure, but when Pack Carmichael tried to file emergency proceedings against us, he stepped up.
He's risked his neck to help us before and there's no love lost between Dawson and the way omegas are treated within the system. Acting with the blessing of the head of the Legal Affairs Department would give us protection at the highest legal level.”
Adrian grunts over the line. “Hell of a gamble but you’re not wrong. Someone like Dawson in our corner would lock down any charges we bring against the commissioner. Make them bulletproof.”
Asher straightens, eyes narrowing, clearly weighing the risks.
At last, his gaze turns decisive, echoing confidence that steadies my frayed nerves.
“I'll make the call. I’ll vet Dawson and if he’s on board I’ll make sure he’s fully briefed.
He's either completely with us, or we leave him in the dark. But, you’re right, if he steps in, his presence means the legal difference between winning or losing this fight. ”
All I want at my core is to forget the plan, storm through those doors, and tear Pack Carmichael limb from limb for what they did to Emma. Rage flushes hot through me, blurring the edges of the building’s blueprint.
“Simmer down, Phoenix. We need you clear-headed, not blinded. We can’t afford anyone making mistakes when it’s time for us to act.” Asher lays his large, solid hand on my shoulder and squeezes. I take a measure of comfort that our prime has our back. Of course he does.
I just want this over. I want Emma safe. I want justice finally served so we can all live free, but there’s so much at stake, so many ways we could lose everything.
So many ways we could lose Emma.
A waft of sweet honeysuckle, wild and unmistakably Emma, drifts down the hallway. Her scent slips beneath my tension and goes straight to my cock. My thoughts derail, all strategy forgotten.
It’s been hours since I’ve seen her, touched her, or heard her soft voice.
Far too fucking long.
I glance through the kitchen window, noticing how the sky’s shifted to deep indigo, shadows pooling thick in the corners.
Shit. The night’s dropped fast, and we’ve been so wrapped up in contingency planning, not one of us bastards has checked on our omega.
Guilt stabs sharp through my chest. That’s not right. She’s been on her own too long.
I push back my chair, the legs scraping loudly across the floor. “I’m going to check on Emma. I need…hell, I just need her. She’s the only one who can calm me down after this much strategy.”
Soren gives me a knowing look, lips twitching, while Asher’s face softens with unspoken understanding. We’d all fight to the death for her, but sometimes we forget how she can steady every damn one of us with nothing but a smile.
“Okay, brother. I’ll finish up the call. Go and make sure our girl is doing okay,” Asher says.
Pushing out of the tension-filled kitchen, I follow the trail of her scent through the house, letting the sweet honeysuckle guide me. She’s everywhere inside this house now, making it feel like home more than our condo ever has, but the fragrance grows thickest as I near her bedroom.
This place is different now.
Real.
Every surface, every soft blanket or smooth bit of wood, carries some trace of Emma.
Her honeysuckle has woven into the walls, her quiet presence soaking into every room.
Our old condo? Nothing like this. It was always just the three of us, the air thick with coffee and leather and the leftover scent of takeout.
Comfortable, sure, but empty in ways I never wanted to name because I never thought we’d be lucky enough to meet our omega.
Our scent-matched mate. I can’t picture her there, surrounded by bare walls and sharp corners, with nowhere to curl up and make her own.
Here, though…it’s all her. Softness layered over strength. Light in places we never thought could feel safe. Somehow, without meaning to, she’s claimed this space. Not as a guest, but as the heart of something bigger than us all.
That realization unsettles me. It stirs up a nervous kind of awe, the sense that everything is changing, shifting into something we’ll never come back from. Part of me fears needing this softness, fears how much I crave it now.
When I step into the doorway, I find her sitting in the chair by the window, knees pulled to her chest, arms wrapped around herself as she watches the waves roll along the horizon beneath a darkening sky.
She doesn’t see me yet, lost in her own thoughts.
The sight punches relief and that grounded calm only she can give in my chest. My eyes catch on the nest room door cracked open.
The gentle glow of the lights inside shimmers across the wide, sunken mattress, bare but inviting, waiting for her touch.
She opened those doors.
After all these days of shutting herself off from this room, this instinct, Emma’s finally taken a step toward making it her own. This is…huge.
I move deeper into her bedroom, drawn forward by the open nest and the fragile hope curled in the way she hugs her knees, staring out at the surf. The tension that always rides high in my chest eases just a fraction, replaced by pride thick enough to choke me.
Her gaze lifts, catching mine and shimmering with something unsure and brave all at once. My chest fills with a fierce, protective kind of warmth that tells me I’d do anything to keep this spark alive in her. I smile, gentle as I can manage, and nod toward the open door behind her.
“That is a big step, Tough Girl,” I say, letting her see every ounce of pride and tenderness that’s blooming inside my chest. “I’m so damn proud of you.”
She looks up at me and manages a shaky, watery smile, but her eyes are glassy with tears. My gut twists because she’s been in here crying instead of in my arms where I can comfort her. I can’t stand seeing her in pain, especially alone.
I kneel in front of her, my hands bracing on her knees. “Why are you crying, love? Talk to me. Please.”
Her mouth trembles. For a moment she just shakes her head, but then it all comes out in a rush, voice cracking and words tumbling over each other.
“I talked to Mira. I needed to hear her voice. I needed my friend. She—she…she gave me this house, Phoenix. She wants me to have it, for good. Gods, can you even believe that? And then, I thought if I opened the doors to the nest it would feel right. But…I stood in there and I… I don’t know what I’m doing. ”
She takes a breath, her eyes turning luminous with unshed tears.
“I don’t know how to build a nest. I…I thought I could but then I just stood there and stared, but nothing happened.
It felt like there was a wall in my brain, Phoenix.
What if I can’t do it? What if…what if I’ll never be a proper omega?
What if that part of me is just…gone? What if they took that away from me forever? ”
Her pain and the horror of what she endured slices straight through me.
The deprivation. The cruelty. The way entitled alphas tried to destroy her most basic instincts fills me with a cold, shaking fury.
There’s nothing weak or broken about her.
Everything she doubts is wrapped in wounds left by monsters.
I take her fragile wrists and draw her hands away from her face so she can see how much I mean these words.
“I saw what they did with my own eyes when you were trapped in the basement with the Carmichaels. You had one blanket. One. They left you to freeze and called it caring for you. You had to curl up on that cold, filthy floor and pretend you had something more, when really all they gave you was the bare minimum.”
I cup her face, my touch gentle even with the anger sparking in my chest. “Of course you’re tangled up inside, sweetheart.
Of course it feels impossible. Mira’s correct.
It’s your right to build a nest, to be safe, to claim comfort as your own.
But no one—not one person in your past ever taught you that.
They beat it out of you every chance they got. ”
I draw her closer, letting my voice soften.
“You survived more than most people ever could. You learned to get through hell, not how to be an omega in a world that’s safe.
Your doubts? They’re trauma, not truth. That part of you isn’t gone.
It just needs time, safety, and choice. Your choice.
Let me help you. We can start as small or as slow as you need.
I’ll be here for every step, I promise. You’re not broken, not less.
Never.” I hold her gaze, desperate for her to hear my conviction all the way to her bones.
“You are whole, Emma. And whatever kind of omega you are, is exactly right.”
I gather her gently into my arms, pressing her tight against my chest, desperate to soothe her, to hold her for every day she’s ever been denied even a scrap of comfort.
“You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met.
You keep trying, no matter how scared you are.
You open your heart after everything that’s been done to you.
That’s courage. That’s strength. You’re already more omega—more beautiful—than anyone I’ve ever known, nest or no nest.”
I see her wanting to believe me, but uncertainty still clouds her features. So, I push up on my knees, bringing my face to hers until I’m close enough to share her breath.
“You don’t have to prove anything to anyone. You are enough. You are perfect.”
And before she can argue, before worry has a chance to cloud her thoughts, I cup her face and kiss her. Slow, deep, pouring everything I can’t say straight into her mouth until she’s breathing nothing but reassurance, nothing but love.