13. Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Thirteen
T he smell of the room was unfamiliar yet calming—clean sheets with a faint hint of lavender and something distinctly Alpha that I assumed was Collins. I sat up slowly, my body aching in places I didn't know could ache, memories of the previous night flooding back in disjointed fragments. The break-in. The masked figure with the syringe. Lucas fighting. Collins bleeding. My shop in ruins.
I pushed back the covers and swung my legs over the edge of the bed, noticing for the first time that I was still wearing yesterday's clothes, minus my shoes which someone had removed and placed neatly by the door. The thought of someone—Collins, presumably—removing my shoes while I slept made me feel strangely vulnerable.
The room itself was large and tastefully decorated in muted blues and grays. Minimalist but not cold, with a large window overlooking what appeared to be a wooded backyard. Across from the bed was a door that I assumed led to an en-suite bathroom, and beside it, a comfortable-looking armchair with my bag resting on it.
I frowned, trying to remember when I'd gotten my bag. Then I recalled Theodore mentioning something about retrieving my car. He must have brought it inside while I was asleep.
Standing carefully, I tested my legs. Sore but functional. I made my way to the bathroom, wincing at my reflection in the mirror. My hair was a tangled mess, dark circles shadowed my eyes, and there was a smudge of dirt across my cheek. I looked like I'd been through hell, which wasn't far from the truth.
The bathroom was well-stocked with toiletries, including an unopened toothbrush and paste that I gratefully put to use. After washing my face and brushing my teeth, I felt marginally more human. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, noting the dark circles under my eyes and the tension still evident in my shoulders. My purple hair was a disaster, and I tried to smooth it with my fingers, suddenly self-conscious about facing a house full of Alphas looking like I'd been dragged through hell and back.
I contemplated showering but decided against it for now, not wanting to spend too long hiding in the bathroom. I needed answers more than I needed to feel clean. Gathering my courage, I opened the door and stepped back into the bedroom, only to find Collins leaning against the wall beside the door, arms crossed over his chest.
I let out a startled yelp, my hand flying to my chest. "Jesus! Do you always lurk outside bedrooms like a creep?"
His lips twitched, though his expression remained mostly impassive. "Good morning to you too. I was about to knock when I heard you moving around."
He looked annoyingly refreshed, wearing dark jeans and a navy henley that stretched across his broad shoulders. The cut above his eyebrow had been cleaned and butterfly-stitched, but otherwise, he showed no signs of last night's fight.
"How long was I out?" I asked, running a hand through my tangled hair.
"About twelve hours," he replied, straightening from his position against the wall. "You were exhausted. Thought it best to let you sleep."
Twelve hours. I'd been unconscious for half a day while my life continued to unravel around me. "My shop—"
"Is being cleaned up as we speak," Collins interrupted smoothly. "Theodore oversaw the security repairs this morning. The insurance adjuster is scheduled for later today."
I blinked, trying to process this. "You've been busy."
"It's my job," he said simply, though something in his tone suggested it was more than that.
My stomach chose that moment to growl loudly, reminding me that I hadn't eaten since lunch yesterday. Collins's mouth quirked up at the corners, a ghost of a smile.
"Hungry?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his tone.
"Starving," I admitted, unable to keep the edge from my voice. I hadn't asked for any of this—the break-in, the attack, being whisked away to an Alpha den in the middle of the night.
Collins nodded, stepping aside to gesture toward the doorway. "Kitchen's downstairs. Theodore made breakfast."
"The tech guy cooks?" I asked, raising an eyebrow as I followed him into the hallway.
"Don't let the glasses fool you. He's the best chef among us." Collins led the way down a wide staircase, the hardwood smooth beneath my socked feet. "Though that's not saying much, considering Reeves once set cereal on fire."
The unexpected glimpse into their pack dynamics caught me off guard. I couldn't quite reconcile the image of these intimidating law enforcement Alphas with the domestic scene Collins was describing.
"He set cereal on fire?" I couldn't help asking. "How is that even possible?"
A genuine smile flickered across Collins's face. "You'd have to ask him. None of us have figured it out yet."
We reached the bottom of the stairs, and Collins guided me through a spacious living room with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked a lush backyard. The house was open and airy, with natural materials and clean lines that created a sense of calm despite its size. It felt lived-in but not cluttered, comfortable without being overly personal.
The kitchen was a chef's dream—all gleaming stainless steel and dark granite, with a massive island in the center where Theodore stood at the stove, expertly flipping something in a pan while Lucas sat at the island, scrolling through a tablet. Reeves was off at the table, reading what looked like a casefile of some kind.
Lucas looked up as we entered, his eyes flickering over me with a quick assessment before returning to his tablet. The bruises from last night's fight were visible along his jawline, a mottled purple against his tanned skin.
"Morning, sleeping beauty," he called, his tone light despite the seriousness of the situation. "Thought you might hibernate through the weekend."
"Sorry to disappoint," I replied dryly, moving cautiously into the unfamiliar space. The kitchen smelled amazing—coffee, bacon, and something sweet that made my stomach growl again, louder this time.
Theodore glanced over his shoulder, offering a small, genuine smile. "Perfect timing. Pancakes are almost ready." He adjusted his glasses with his wrist, hands busy with a spatula and mixing bowl. "Coffee's fresh. Are you hungry?"
"Starving," I admitted, suddenly self-conscious under the gaze of three Alphas. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, acutely aware of my rumpled appearance.
"Sit," Collins instructed, gesturing to an empty stool at the island. "I'll get you coffee."
I slid onto the stool, keeping a careful distance from Lucas, who continued scrolling through his tablet. The domestic normalcy of the scene felt surreal after last night's violence. These men had fought to protect me—had possibly saved my life—and now they were just... making breakfast like it was any ordinary Saturday morning. Like they hadn't just brought a strange Omega into their territory.
"Cream or sugar?" Collins asked, setting a steaming mug in front of me.
"Both," I replied, watching as he doctored my coffee with practiced movements. "Thanks."
I wrapped my hands around the warm mug, drawing comfort from its heat. The normalcy of the gesture—drinking coffee in a kitchen—helped ground me despite the extraordinary circumstances.
Theodore slid a plate in front of me, stacked with golden pancakes and crisp bacon. "Eat," he said simply, his quiet voice carrying an undertone of concern. "You need strength."
"Thank you," I said, genuinely touched by the gesture. I hadn't expected kindness from these men—professionalism, certainly, but not this... care.
I took a bite, surprised by how good it tasted. "This is amazing," I said to Theodore, who acknowledged the compliment with a small smile.
Lucas snorted from his position at the island. "Don't encourage him. His ego barely fits in the kitchen as it is."
I hid my smile behind my coffee mug, watching as Theodore rolled his eyes good-naturedly. The dynamic between these Alphas was nothing like I'd expected. There was the typical Alpha posturing, sure, but underneath it was something else—a comfortable familiarity, a genuine bond.
I ate quietly, savoring each bite while trying to gather my thoughts. The reality of my situation was sinking in with each passing moment—I was in danger, my shop had been attacked, and I was now sitting in an Alpha pack's kitchen eating pancakes like this was all perfectly normal.
"Jamie knows you're safe," Collins said, as if reading my thoughts. "Theodore contacted him this morning. He wanted to come see you, but we thought it best to keep your location limited to those who need to know."
I nodded, swallowing a bite of pancake. "When can I see my shop?"
The four Alphas exchanged glances, a silent communication passing between them that made me feel distinctly like an outsider.
Collins was the first to break the silence. "Today," he said, surprising me. "But not alone. I'll go with you."
I set down my fork, relief washing over me. "Thank you. I need to see the damage, figure out what can be salvaged." I know Collins had mentioned something about my shop earlier, but seeing it in person would make me feel alot better.
"We've already started cataloging the damage," Theodore said, turning back to the stove. "I took photos this morning for insurance purposes. The structural damage is minimal—mostly broken fixtures, shattered vases, that sort of thing. I have someone coming from Insurance to look everything over too."
"Your flowers didn't fare as well," Lucas added, his tone gentler than I'd heard from him before. "But the cooler was untouched, so your stock orders should be intact."
I nodded, touched by their thoroughness. "Thank you. All of you. I know this isn't exactly standard procedure."
Reeves snorted from his position at the table. "Nothing about this case has been standard procedure," he said, looking up from his case file with a wry expression. "Might as well throw the rulebook out the window at this point."
Collins shot him a look that I couldn't quite interpret. "The rulebook exists for a reason."
"Yeah, and so do exceptions," Reeves countered, closing his file and leaning back in his chair. "Or are we pretending this is just another case?"
A tense silence fell over the kitchen. I looked between them, sensing I was missing something significant in this exchange.
"So," I said, desperate to break the awkward tension, "what's the plan beyond visiting my shop? I can't stay here forever." Though part of me wondered if that would be so terrible—the security, the protection, the pancakes...
Collins turned his attention back to me, his expression carefully neutral. "We're working on identifying the intruder from last night. Theodore's analyzing the security footage, trying to get a clearer image of our attacker."
"And the syringe?" I asked, my appetite suddenly diminishing at the memory of that glinting needle. "Do you think it contained the same compound that killed those other Omegas?"
"We can't be certain without analyzing the contents," Theodore replied, his expression grave. "But given the pattern of attacks, it's a reasonable assumption."
"So what am I supposed to do?" I asked, setting down my fork. "Hide here while you try to catch this person? For how long? I have a business to run, a life to live."
"Your life is exactly what we're trying to preserve," Collins said, his voice firm but not unkind. "Until we know who's behind this and what they want, you're safer here with us."
I bristled at his words, “Detective…”
Reeves snorted at this, “You should just call us by our names now. You are in our home.”
I glanced at Reeves, then back to Collins—or Gabriel, I supposed. It felt strange to think of using their first names, as if crossing some invisible line between professional and personal. But Reeves had a point. I was in their home, eating their food, sleeping in what was presumably one of their beds.
"Fine," I conceded, picking up my fork again. "Gabriel, then. And you're Dakota?" I looked at Reeves, who nodded with a hint of amusement in his eyes.
"And you already know Lucas," Gabriel continued, gesturing to the Alpha who'd fought to protect me. "And Theodore." He nodded toward the quieter Alpha at the stove.
"Theo is fine," Theodore said, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Only Gabriel calls me Theodore, and that's because he's incapable of using nicknames."
I couldn't help the small smile that tugged at my lips, some of my anger from how this situation was playing out going away. The normalcy of their banter was oddly comforting in the midst of this chaos.
"So, Theo," I said, testing the nickname, "you mentioned insurance adjusters? How did you arrange that so quickly?"
Theo shrugged, sliding another pancake onto Lucas's empty plate. "I have connections. And Gabriel has pull with the department. Between us, we expedited things."
"We want to get your shop back up and running as soon as possible," Gabriel added, leaning against the counter with his own coffee mug. "The sooner things return to normal, the better."
"Normal," I repeated, the word sounding hollow. "I'm not sure that's possible anymore."
A somber silence fell over the kitchen. These men understood better than most how quickly life could change, how fragile normalcy truly was.
"So, Vivian," Lucas said, leaning forward on his elbows. "I've been wondering. What's an Omega like you doing running a flower shop alone? No mate, no pack to help out?"
"Lucas," Gabriel warned, his tone sharp.
I shook my head. "It's fine. And to answer your question, I like being independent. The shop was my mother's, and her father's before that. Family business." I shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant despite the personal nature of the question. "Not all of us need a pack to function."
Lucas studied me for a moment, something like respect flickering in his eyes. "Fair enough."
I was then dragged into other everyday talk, and I could tell Lucas was trying to keep me distracted, I would let it slide. I would keep my temper in check for now and would bring up going back to my apartment for after I see the state of my shop.