Chapter 2 #2
Footsteps on the stairs. Malcolm's scent arrives before he does—coffee sharpening fast into protective and furious. He steps up behind my shoulder, still shirtless, and the energy coming off him is barely leashed.
I don't look back at him. I move my hand slightly. I have this.
I feel him pull up. Feel the effort it takes. He stays.
"Your omega," I say to Ragon. Even. Controlled. "Went into heat."
A flicker of confusion crosses his face, then dread starts to form at the edges. His nostrils flare as he scents the truth of it. Malcolm is saturated in it.
"She went into heat alone," I continue. "Finn found her outside. On a porch… in pain."
The dread takes over completely.
"In the middle of the night," I say. "Because not one of you checked on her. For days."
"I didn't—" He stops. Starts again. "I didn't know she was in heat."
"That's exactly the problem."
Behind me I feel Malcolm's control fraying. The growl in his chest is almost audible.
Ragon's eyes move between us. Taking in the hour. How we answered the door. The fact that neither of us are sleeping. His nostrils flare again and I watch the moment it hits—the traces of the way her scent mingles with both of us, the alpha-to-alpha recognition of shared intent.
He goes very still.
"You're her scent matches."
Neither of us answers.
We don't have to. His face is doing all the work. The confusion first. Then the math clicking into place. Then darkness and territorial anger rising up through the rut-haze.
"How long?" His voice has gone low. Dangerous.
"Long enough," I say.
"She's in there right now." He shifts. The barely-contained thing starting to push at the edges. "She's in heat and you're—"
"Helping her through the heat you left her in alone." Malcolm's voice comes out hard and flat. I don't stop him. He's not wrong. "Because you were too wrapped up in your scent match to notice your omega was in crisis."
Ragon's jaw tightens. His weight shifts forward.
I don't move back an inch.
"Step back," I say.
"I want to see her."
"She can't consent to anything right now and you know it." I hold his gaze. "You don't get to walk in there and use her heat against her just because you've decided you want her back tonight."
"She's my omega—"
"She was yours." The words come out quiet. Final. "You had five years to claim her but instead you spent them making her smaller. That's over. You don’t get to hurt her anymore."
His hands curl into fists. The darkness in his expression is full now. Territorial fury, wounded pride and the desperation of an alpha whose rut has been feeding him lies about what he deserves. I've seen it before. I've felt versions of it myself.
I don't move.
"You don’t know anything," he says. Deep. Threatening. "This is between me and my pack—"
"She's not your pack anymore." I take one step forward, out of the doorway.
Into his space. Not aggressive… just present.
Making him understand through proximity what I'm not saying in words.
"And if you don't step back and let us see her through this in peace, I'll call the registry right now.
Tonight. I'll tell them I found an unclaimed omega in active heat abandoned on a residential porch with no pack in sight.
" I let that sit for a second. "You know how fast they’ll move on something like that.
You know what they do. She'll be out of everyone's reach before you can get your lawyer on the phone. "
Silence.
Ragon stares at me. Reading me. Trying to find the bluff in it.
I give him nothing.
Whatever he finds in my face, it's enough.
His shoulders drop. Not completely—there's still fight in him, still the possessive fury simmering under the surface. But the immediate push is gone.
"This isn't finished," he says. He sounds quiet now. The kind of quiet that means he's thinking past tonight to what comes next.
"When she's clear-headed," I say. "If she wants to talk to you, that's her decision. Not mine. Not yours. Hers."
He holds my gaze for one more moment.
Then he steps back.
He walks away without another word. The sound of his feet on gravel fades and the night goes quiet again.
Malcolm exhales slowly behind me. Long and rough, like he's been holding that breath since Ragon started banging on the door.
"I wanted to put him through that door," he says.
"I know."
"He stood there and acted like—"
"I know." I turn. His expression is tight. Controlled but barely. "You held. That's what mattered."
He looks at me in silent understanding. Then he nods. I climb right back up the stairs.
At her door I lower myself back down to the floor.
Run my knuckles against the wood.
Ragon will be back. Whatever tonight did, it didn't finish everything. He'll come back with a plan instead of just rut-aggression, and when he does we'll need more than what we have right now. Chase needs to move faster. The case needs to be further along.
Tomorrow.
Tonight my job is this floor. This door. The gap at the bottom where her fingers found mine.
***
Hours later, my phone buzzes.
Finn: She's asking for you again.
Me: I'm here.
Finn: I know. She knows too. She can smell you through the door.
Finn: Malcolm's resting. I'm helping her through but it's not enough.
Me: I can't come in.
Finn: I know. I'm just telling you.
I set the phone down.
My hand finds the gap under the door again.
A few seconds pass. Then her fingers appear.
We hold on.
I don't say anything. She doesn't either.
But her fingers clutch mine with a strength that contradicts her condition. Everything she can't say with words. Everything I can't do anything about.
"I'm not leaving," I say finally. Quiet enough that maybe only she can hear.
Her fingers squeeze mine.
Then Malcolm's voice, gentle and low. “Come on baby. Let me help.”
She lets go slowly. Reluctantly. The way you let go of something you're not ready to release.
Her shadow disappears from under the door.
I stay.
I rest my head back against the wall and stare at the ceiling.
My omega is in heat ten feet away.
And I'm sitting here on the floor doing nothing, because doing nothing is the only way to protect her.
The only way to protect us both.
So I stay.
And I wait.
And I hold on to the memory of her fingers in mine.
Because that might be all I ever get.
And if it is, I'll take it.