Chapter 4 #2
"Michelle's handling the media," he reported, his usual manic energy focused into something useful.
"Says to get her somewhere safe and she'll spin it as a planned marketing stunt.
Apparently, we're 'exploring collaborative opportunities in a controlled environment.
'" He made air quotes with one hand while still typing.
"Also, she's threatening to sue anyone who posts footage without consent. "
Callie laughed, or maybe sobbed. Hard to tell the difference when her whole body was shaking. "My manager's already…already lying for me. Perfect. My whole brand is built on honesty and she's—"
"Your brand is about survival," Nova cut her off gently, his accent thick with something that might have been tenderness. "Right now, that means getting you somewhere safe where you can fall apart properly."
"I built everything on not needing this.
" Her voice cracked, and I heard the tears starting in earnest. "Not needing Alphas.
Not needing pack. Not ending up like—" She stopped herself, but we all heard what she didn't say. Like her mother. Like every cautionary tale about Omegas who lost control in public. Everyone who worked in the media knew the story, and no one who was polite would mention it if they weren’t directly involved.
The traffic light ahead turned. I ran it without hesitation.
"Ghost," Nova warned, but I ignored him.
Every second in this car was torture for all of us, but especially for her.
Her heat scent had moved past enticing into desperate, the kind of biological SOS that made rational thought impossible.
My own body was responding despite every wall I'd built.
My heart rate was elevated, and I knew without looking that my pupils were dilated, the beginning stirrings of something I hadn't felt since my first pack died in twisted metal and broken glass.
No. Focus on driving. Focus on getting her safe.
"It hurts," Callie whimpered, and every Alpha in the car made the same pained sound in response.
A harmony of distress that would have been beautiful under different circumstances.
"Why does it hurt so much? This isn't… I've had heats before, this isn't normal.
It feels like my skin's on fire and freezing at the same time. "
"True mate response." Milo's voice was strained but certain, his usual easy confidence replaced by something raw. "It's different when you find your pack. Everything's amplified. Your body recognizes us as—"
"Don't." She cut him off with surprising vehemence. "Don't say it. If you say it out loud, it becomes real, and I can't, I'm not ready for it to be real."
Another red light. This time I stopped, because the cross traffic was too heavy and getting arrested wouldn't help anyone. Callie made a sound like she was dying, her whole body convulsing in waves that made every protective instinct I had scream for action.
"How much longer?" Blitz asked through gritted teeth.
I held up five fingers.
"I can't," Callie gasped, her words coming in broken fragments. "Five minutes, I can't, it's too, everything's too much. Your scents. All of you. It's like drowning but also like flying, and I can't breathe, but I can't stop breathing, and I—"
Nova made a decision that probably violated a dozen consent protocols.
He pulled her fully into his lap, and the moment their bodies aligned properly, she went liquid.
The keening sound she'd been making stopped, replaced by something that was absolutely not appropriate for a car full of people, but none of us could bring ourselves to care about propriety when she was clearly suffering.
"Better?" Nova's question came out as a growl, his businessman facade completely shattered.
She nodded against his neck, and I saw her lips move against his skin. Whatever she said was too quiet for the rest of us to hear, but Nova's hands tightened on her waist, and he breathed out something that was too quiet for me to hear and definitely not meant for polite company.
Three minutes. The house came into view.
Relief washed over me at the sight of our carefully coordinated pack home with its high privacy fences and mature hedges and state-of-the-art security system.
Most importantly, with the nest none of us talked about.
The room we'd built for an Omega we'd never met, prepared for a situation we'd never thought would actually happen. And if we ever did admit to hoping it would happen, it definitely wouldn’t have been like this.
I pulled into the garage, and the door was already closing behind us before I'd fully stopped. The sudden darkness made Callie sigh with slight relief. Nova was already moving, lifting her like she was made of spun glass and stubborn determination.
"The nest," he said, and we all knew exactly what he meant. No discussion needed.
We moved as a unit through the house, years of living together making us efficient.
Crash ran ahead to unlock doors, his usual chaos channeled into purpose.
Milo adjusted the temperature controls as we passed, his baker's precision extending to creating the perfect environment.
Blitz closed curtains and checked windows, his protective instincts on full display.
I pulled up our security system on my phone, checking cameras, making sure we hadn't been followed, that the media circus hadn't somehow tracked us home.
The notifications were going insane. There were hundreds of messages, tags, mentions.
Video clips were already spreading across every platform like digital wildfire.
But none of that mattered as much as the Omega currently being carried to a room we'd built on instinct and hope and the kind of faith that felt foolish until it didn't.
The nest door opened, and Callie lifted her head from Nova's shoulder. Even in her state, even burning with pre-heat and overwhelmed by pheromones and coming apart at the seams, she gasped.
"You built this?" Her voice was small, wondering, like she'd discovered something impossible. "For someone you'd never met?"
The room was perfect. It had temperature-controlled zones for different preferences, soft fabrics in every texture imaginable, subtle lighting that could be adjusted from bright morning sun to gentle twilight.
The center depression was filled with pillows and blankets that had been scented by each of us over months of preparation, creating a symphony of comfort and safety.
"We built it for you," Crash said, then immediately looked shocked at his own words. "I mean, not you specifically, but—"
"We built it for our Omega," Nova corrected, still holding her at the threshold like a groom carrying his bride. "The one we didn't know we were waiting for."
She looked at the room, really looked, taking in every detail we'd obsessed over. The soft lighting, the carefully chosen colors, the way everything was designed around comfort and safety and the needs of someone like her.
"Take me in," she whispered, and it wasn't a request.
Nova carried her into the nest, and the moment she touched those prepared fabrics, something in the air shifted fundamentally.
Her scent bloomed fully, finally, released from whatever last restraint had been holding it back.
Sugar and spice and everything we'd been missing without knowing we were incomplete.
The door closed behind us with a soft click that sounded like fate.
Outside, the internet exploded with speculation and judgment and viral moments that would define careers.
Inside, the only thing that mattered was keeping her safe through what was coming.