Chapter 27 Vespera
twenty-seven
Vespera
The lake house looks smaller in daylight as we pack up. Less like a prison, more like... a place where things happened. Where everything changed.
I'm folding one of Dorian's shirts—the one I've been sleeping in—when Oakley appears in the doorway.
"Need help?" he asks, and there's something different in his voice. Lighter than it's been in weeks. Like some weight has lifted.
"I've got it." I add the shirt to my bag, then pause. Hold it up. "Actually, do you think Dorian would mind if I kept this one?"
A flush creeps up Oakley's neck. Not embarrassment exactly. Something softer. "I'm sure he won't mind," he says, a small smile tugging at his lips.
I study him. He does look different. Happier, maybe. There's been something between him and Dorian the last few days—nothing I can name, but they move around each other differently now. More settled. Like whatever tension was there before has eased.
"You okay?" I ask.
His smile widens slightly. "Yeah. Actually, yeah. Things are... better. Between all of us."
I don't push. Whatever's happening between them is their business. But I'm glad for it. Glad that something good came out of these six weeks, even if it's them figuring out how to be a real pack instead of three Alphas competing for dominance.
Dorian's voice carries from downstairs, something about loading the car.
His Aston Martin is parked in the circular drive, sleek and expensive and so perfectly him it almost hurts.
The car he still has because his family doesn't know yet.
Doesn't know he claimed the scholarship Omega they spent months trying to break.
The claiming marks on my neck throb dully. I touch them without thinking, feeling the raised skin where teeth broke through. Three sets. Three Alphas. Three permanent reminders that I belong to them now, whether I chose it or not.
Except I'm starting to wonder if maybe I did choose it. In some fucked up way. If maybe fighting them for weeks, making them work for every inch, forcing them to see me as a person instead of biology—maybe that was its own kind of choice.
Or maybe I'm trying to make myself feel better about surrendering.
"You okay?" Oakley's still watching me, cedar scent warm with concern.
"Yeah. Thinking about going back. Facing everyone."
"We'll figure it out." He crosses to me, movements careful like I'm something fragile. "Together."
Together. Another word that feels different now. Not a threat. Not a cage. A fact. We're together now, for better or worse, because biology says so and because somewhere in the mess of heat and claiming and six weeks of captivity, something shifted.
I'm not ready to call it love. Not sure I ever will be. But it's something.
Downstairs, Corvus is already loading bags into the trunk, tablet tucked under one arm because of course he can't be separated from technology for thirty seconds. Dorian's directing the operation like we're staging a military evacuation instead of driving back to campus.
"We should stop halfway," Corvus says, not looking up from his screen. "Give everyone a break. There's a rest stop in—"
"I know where the rest stops are," Dorian interrupts, jaw tight. He's been on edge all morning, sandalwood scent sharp with tension. Probably thinking about what happens when we get back. When reality hits.
I slide into the back seat without being told, noting how they've already arranged themselves—Dorian driving, Corvus in passenger seat, Oakley beside me. Pack hierarchy on display. The Alpha in charge, the strategist navigating, the gentle one keeping the Omega company.
Except I'm not any Omega anymore. I'm theirs. And they're learning—slowly, painfully—that I don't fit neatly into the box biology says I should.
The drive starts quiet. Tense. All of us processing what comes next.
"We need to talk about living arrangements," Corvus finally says, breaking the silence about twenty minutes in. "Where you'll stay when we get back."
My stomach clenches. Right. Because I can't go back to my shitty dorm room and pretend the last six weeks didn't happen.
The bonds won't allow it. Already I feel the pull of them in the car, the way my body relaxes with all three close.
The thought of being separated by even a building makes my skin itch.
"The pack house," Dorian says, like it's obvious. "With us."
"That's not—" I start, then stop. Because what's the alternative? Suffer through separation sickness while trying to maintain some illusion of independence? "What about my stuff? My roommate?"
"We'll move your things," Oakley says. "Robbie can help. Make it look natural."
"Natural," I repeat flatly. "Right. Because there's nothing weird about the scholarship Omega suddenly moving into the pack house with the three Alphas who spent months tormenting her."
"People will talk," Corvus acknowledges. "We need a cover story."
"The truth?" I suggest. "That you kidnapped me, held me captive, and forced a bond during my heat?"
Dorian's knuckles go white on the steering wheel. "That's not—"
"I know." I cut him off, because I'm tired of this argument. Tired of pretending what happened wasn't fucked up because it ended with marks instead of escape. "I'm saying, whatever story we tell, people are going to know something's wrong."
"So we tell them you chose us," Oakley says quietly. "After your heat. That we courted you properly and you accepted."
The lie tastes bitter, but it's better than the alternative. Better than admitting I'm bonded to my abusers because biology overrode every instinct screaming at me to run.
"Fine," I say. "We went away together. Private lake house. You... courted me. I accepted. We're pack now."
"Your room will have a lock," Dorian adds, eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror. "On the inside. Your space. We won't enter without permission."
It's a small thing. A gesture. But it matters. "Okay."
"And the master bedroom," Corvus continues, ever practical. "It's yours. We'll take the other rooms."
I blink. "The master bedroom?"
"The biggest room. Best closet. En suite bathroom." He glances back at me. "Pack Omega gets the best accommodations. It's tradition."
"I don't—" I start to protest, then remember Stephanie's words. Don't refuse every gesture. Let them give you things. "Okay. Thank you."
The tension in the car eases slightly. We're figuring it out. Slowly. Painfully. But figuring it out.
"What about classes?" I ask. "The fall showcase auditions are in three weeks. I need to focus on that."
"We know," Dorian says. "We're not going to interfere with your career."
"You kidnapped me the day before my summer program audition," I point out.
He flinches. Good. "That was before. Things are different now."
"Are they?"
"Yes." He meets my eyes in the mirror again, and there's something raw there. Something honest. "We were monsters then. We're trying to be better now."
"Trying," I echo. Because that's all any of us can do. Try. Hope it's enough.
The rest stop appears like salvation. I need to pee, need to stretch, need five minutes away from the pressure-cooker atmosphere of the car.
"I'll be right back," I say, already unbuckling.
"I'll come with—" Oakley starts.
"I can pee by myself."
He subsides, but all three of them watch as I cross the parking lot. Their eyes tracking my every movement like predators. Like I might disappear if they blink.
Maybe I would have, a week ago. But the bonds won't let me now. I'm tethered to them as surely as if they'd put a collar around my neck.
The restroom is blessedly empty. I lock myself in a stall and finally, finally let myself breathe. Let the mask drop. Let the fear and confusion and weird twisted hope show on my face where no one can see it.
My phone buzzes. I pull it out, expecting a text from one of them checking on me.
It's Ben.
Ben: Hey evening star. I know you said you needed time, but I couldn't stop thinking about you. How are you doing?
Ben. The Beta from the summer intensive. The one who made me laugh. The one who kissed me on the roof and said I was an evening star.
The one I was supposed to be with instead of here, bonded to three Alphas who kidnapped me.
We've been texting sporadically since I apologized for disappearing. Nothing heavy. Check-ins. Him being his usual sweet self while I tried to figure out how to tell him I'm permanently bonded to three men who held me captive.
I should have told him already. Should have ended this before it became complicated.
Me: I'm okay. Things are... complicated.
Ben: I know this might be bad timing, but I need to tell you something. About that night on the roof. About what I said.
My heart rate kicks up. Dread and guilt twisting in my stomach.
Me: Ben...
Ben: I'm transferring. To Northwood. I applied last month but just got accepted. I'll be there next Monday.
The phone nearly slips from my hands.
No. No no no.
Me: You're transferring here? To Northwood?
Ben: Yeah. I know it's forward, but I couldn't stop thinking about you. About that summer. About what could have been if you hadn't had to leave. I meant what I said on the roof, Vespera. Every word. I want to see where this could go.
Where this could go. Like I'm still the girl he kissed under summer stars. Like I didn't disappear and spend six weeks being held captive by three Alphas. Like I'm not marked and mated and permanently bonded.
He doesn't know. He thinks I had a family emergency, that I'm getting treatment for rejection sickness. I never told him the truth. Never could bring myself to say "I was kidnapped and held at a lake house and claimed during my heat by three men who tortured me for months."
How do you text that to someone who calls you "evening star"?
Me: Ben, there's something you need to know. Things have changed a lot since Columbus. I can't explain over text, but when you get here... we should talk. In person.
Ben: Changed how?