Chapter 26 Vespera
twenty-six
Vespera
I'm making French toast when I hear the car.
It's early and the sound of tires on gravel is unexpected enough that all three Alphas tense. Dorian's hand moves to my hip, protective instinct kicking in. Corvus is already at the window, peering through the curtains.
"Expecting company?" Oakley asks, spatula frozen mid-flip.
"No." I set down the whisk, wiping my hands on the towel. "But if it's your parents again, Dorian, I'm not hiding this time."
"It's not them." Corvus's voice is tight. "It's a Honda Civic. And unless I'm mistaken, that's Stephanie in the driver's seat."
My stomach drops. "What?"
"And Robbie's with her." He turns from the window, expression calculating. "They're sitting there. Like they're working up courage."
Oh no. Oh no.
I move to the window. Sure enough, there's Stephanie's car idling in the driveway. Through the windshield, I watch her and Robbie having what looks like an intense conversation. Stephanie's hands are moving frantically. Robbie keeps pointing at the house.
"What are they doing here?" Dorian's voice has gone cold, dangerous. "How did they even find us?"
"You're not exactly subtle with your digital footprint," Corvus mutters. "If I had to guess, they tracked property records or hacked—"
The car doors open.
Stephanie gets out first, and even from here I see she's terrified. Her hands are shaking. But she's forcing herself forward, shoulders back like she's heading into battle.
Robbie follows, and the look on his face is pure protective fury.
"They think they're rescuing me," I say aloud.
"What?" All three Alphas say it in unison.
"They think I'm still being held captive. They're here to—oh my god, they're going to try to rescue me."
"Over my dead body," Dorian snarls, already moving toward the door.
I grab his arm. "Stop. Everyone stop." I turn to face all three of them, and the dynamic shift of the last few weeks means they actually listen. "You're going to let them in. You're going to be civil. And you're going to let me handle this."
"Vespera—" Oakley starts.
"Did I stutter?"
He subsides, and I catch Corvus hiding a smirk.
The doorbell rings. Then rings again. Then someone starts pounding.
"VESPERA!" Robbie's voice carries through the door. "VESPERA, IF YOU CAN HEAR ME, WE'RE HERE! YOU'RE SAFE NOW!"
I pinch the bridge of my nose. "Oakley, turn off the stove before the house burns down. Corvus, put away whatever weapons you're mentally cataloging. Dorian..." I look at him. "Try not to kill anyone."
"No promises," he mutters, but he steps back.
I open the door.
Stephanie and Robbie both jump, clearly not expecting it to open so easily. They're standing there looking like amateur kidnappers themselves—Stephanie holding her phone like a weapon, Robbie with a tire iron in one hand.
"Oh thank god," Stephanie breathes. "Vespera, we're here, we're going to get you out of—"
She stops. Stares. Takes in what I'm wearing: Dorian's oversized button-down, bare legs, messy hair, clearly rolled out of bed.
"Hi," I say casually. "Want some coffee?"
"We called the police," Robbie blurts out. "They'll be here in twenty minutes. We needed to stall until—" He stops too, looking past me into the house.
I imagine what he sees. Oakley at the stove, wearing sleep pants and nothing else, comfortable in the space. Corvus at the table with his tablet and coffee, looking completely at ease. Dorian close behind me, protective but not threatening, clearly deferring to my lead.
It doesn't look like a hostage situation. It looks like a pack house on a lazy Sunday morning.
"You called the cops," I repeat slowly. "To rescue me."
"Yes!" Stephanie finds her voice. "Vespera, I know you might be—I mean, the heat and the bonds and everything—but you don't have to stay here. You don't have to—"
"I'm making French toast," I interrupt. "Do you want some or not?"
They stare at me.
"I..." Stephanie's voice is small. "What?"
"French toast. It's almost done. Oakley makes the best bacon.
There's coffee. You drove three hours to get here, you might as well eat.
" I step aside, gesturing them in. "Unless you'd rather wait in the car for the police you called to arrive at the house where I'm clearly being held against my will while making breakfast."
Robbie and Stephanie exchange a look. Then, slowly, they step inside.
The Alphas tense. Dorian moves closer to me, positioning himself between me and the "intruders." Oakley's hand is still on the spatula, but his muscles are coiled. Corvus has set down his tablet, attention focused with predatory precision.
"Easy," I murmur, loud enough for them to hear. "They're friends. Not threats."
"Are they?" Dorian's voice is cold. "Because it sounds like they're here to take you away."
"They think they are." I move past him into the kitchen, leaving Stephanie and Robbie standing awkwardly in the entryway. "Oakley, can you set two more places?"
"Of course." He moves to comply, and Robbie's eyes widen at the easy obedience.
"Everyone sit," I say, gesturing to the table. "This is going to be awkward enough without everyone standing around looking ready to fight."
Stephanie and Robbie sit carefully, like they're afraid the chairs might explode. The Alphas arrange themselves around me—Dorian to my right, Oakley bringing plates, Corvus directly across where he can watch our "guests."
"So," I say, pouring coffee into two mugs and sliding them across the table. "You tracked us down, drove three hours, and called the police because...?"
"Because you were kidnapped!" Stephanie bursts out. "Because they took you from Columbus and we didn't hear from you for weeks and—" She stops, looking at me more carefully. "Why are you so calm?"
"Because I'm fine."
"You were kidnapped," Robbie says slowly, like I'm not understanding. "They chloroformed you in an alley. Threw you in a van. Brought you here against your will."
"Yes, that happened." I take a sip of my coffee. "Six weeks ago."
"And you're okay with that now?" Stephanie's voice rises. "Vespera, this is Stockholm syndrome. You're bonded to them, you went through a heat with them, your brain is telling you this is fine when it's not—"
"Don't." The word comes out sharp enough that she flinches. "Don't tell me what my brain is doing. Don't tell me what I'm feeling. And don't assume you understand what's happened here."
"Then explain it to us," Robbie says quietly.
His eyes are on Dorian, assessing, clearly seeing the claim marks on his neck.
"Because from where we're sitting, this looks like three Alphas who traumatized you so badly that you rejected their bonds, then kidnapped you when you tried to escape, and now you're wearing their clothes and making them breakfast."
"She's not making us breakfast," Oakley says quietly, setting down a plate of bacon. "I am. She's supervising."
"Jesus Christ," Stephanie mutters. "This is so fucked up."
"You want to know what's fucked up?" I lean forward.
"What's fucked up is that when they were hunting me on campus, when I was terrified and sick and didn't know who to trust, my best friend abandoned me because it was too socially inconvenient to be seen with the scholarship Omega being targeted by the golden boys. "
Stephanie goes pale. "Vespera—"
"What's fucked up," I continue, "is that you didn't answer my calls. Didn't return my texts. Made it clear that your sorority connections were more important than ten years of friendship. And now you show up here with a tire iron and a rescue plan after the hard part is over?"
"I know," she whispers. "I know, and I'm so sorry. That's why we're here. I was a coward when you needed me, so I thought—I thought I could make up for it by being brave now."
"By rescuing me from a situation that doesn't exist anymore?"
"We didn't know that!" Robbie's voice is frustrated.
"We thought—Vespera, put yourself in our position.
You disappear for six weeks. Won't answer calls.
Won't tell us where you are. The last time we saw you, you were running from them.
Now you're here, in their house, and you're telling us everything's fine? How are we supposed to believe that?"
It's a fair point. I look at Dorian, whose jaw is tight with barely controlled aggression. At Oakley, who's standing too still, ready to move if needed. At Corvus, whose calculating gaze hasn't left Robbie's face.
"Show them," I say quietly.
"What?" Dorian's voice is sharp.
"Show them." I turn to face him fully. "Show them how things have changed. Prove to them that I'm not some helpless victim who doesn't know what she's doing."
Understanding dawns in his ice-blue eyes. For a moment, he wars with his pride, his Alpha instincts that want to fight, to prove dominance through aggression.
Then he drops to his knees beside my chair.
Stephanie gasps. Robbie's mouth falls open.
"Holy shit," Robbie breathes.
"She's not our captive," Dorian says, his voice steady despite the submissive position. "We're hers. And everything that happens in this house happens because she allows it."
I run my fingers through his hair, the gesture casual, claiming. "Do you believe him? Or do you need more proof?"
Stephanie is staring like she's watching something impossible. "I... Vespera, what happened here?"
"What happened," I say carefully, "is that I spent six weeks teaching three entitled Alphas that consent isn't optional.
That claiming someone doesn't make them yours.
That if they wanted me, they had to earn me.
" I look at each of them in turn. "We're not fixed.
We're not healthy. This probably qualifies as deeply fucked up by any reasonable standard.
But it's my choice. My terms. My control. "
"Your control," Robbie echoes, still staring at Dorian on his knees.