Chapter 51
Cole
T he suite is finally quiet. For the first time in three days, there’s no scent haze clinging to the walls. No cries echoing from the Nest. No primal growls or whispered pleas for more.
Just silence.
I sit at the kitchen table, elbows resting on the cool marble, a half-drunk cup of coffee forgotten beside me. The sun is just starting to rise, casting a soft orange glow through the window. I should sleep. Hell, I need sleep.
But I can’t. Not yet. It’s been three days of Heat. Three Alphas. Two Omegas. Four of us doing everything we could to hold it together for Rowan’s first heat. Victor even stepped in when Sébastien needed relief; quiet, respectful, hands steady but never reaching for what wasn’t offered. He didn’t touch Rowan. None of us expected him to.
But that left her with only three of us to lean on. And we all felt it. We did our best to make up for that. To cover the space Xavier left. To give her so much comfort, care, and presence that maybe... just maybe... her Heat haze would soften the blow of being avoided.
It wasn’t perfect. But she smiled. She purred. That counts for something. I lean back in the chair and sigh, reaching for the remote. The TV clicks on, the soft murmur of morning news breaking the quiet. Just background noise. I turn my attention to the paper on the table, fingers brushing across the cover.
And then I hear it. "...Pack Kingston. Spotted entering a luxury Omega suite hotel three nights ago. Are they finally off the market? And who’s the Beta caught in the middle of it all?”
My head jerks up. The screen is filled with a blurry image of us. Walking toward the side entrance of the hotel, Sébastien shielded between me and Mass, Rowan tucked in Xavier’s arms. Her face is flushed. Her scent haze obvious even through the damn lens.
Then another photo flashes closer. A still from the security feed, grainy but clear enough. Sébastien’s expression half-wrecked from scent overload. Rowan mid-step, mouth parted in what looks far too much like pleasure.
“Sources say the group remained in the penthouse suite for days, with no appearances since. Rumors are flying. Is this the mysterious Pack Kingston’s Omega reveal? And what does it mean that two were seen entering: one clearly Omega, the other officially registered as Beta?”
I stare at the screen, heart going still. They're not just guessing anymore. They're watching.
I turn the volume down but leave the images playing in the background, then finally pick up the newspaper from the corner of the table. The hotel had delivered it with breakfast, some over-the-top luxury gesture I hadn’t paid attention to until now.
Front page, bottom fold. There we are. The grainy photo isn’t a coincidence; it’s the same one from the screen. Me and Massimo flanking Sébastien. Xavier holding Rowan close, jaw clenched, eyes sharp. He’s not looking at the camera. He’s looking for threats.
The headline reads: “Pack Kingston: New Claim, New
Secrets?”
I skim the first paragraph. "Rumors swirl as the elite private Pack Kingston is spotted entering a high-end Omega suite hotel under emergency lockdown. One Omega was visibly in Heat. A second figure, registered as Beta on all public records, was escorted closely by known Pack members. Is the Beta designation a cover? Are Pack Kingston forming a bond-pack with more than one Omega?"
My pulse spikes. Rowan. They’re questioning her registration. I stare at the line again, printed right beneath the grainy photo of us walking into the hotel:
“...The second unidentified individual is officially listed as a Beta, but sources on scene reported signs of an active Heat cycle. Could this be an unregistered Omega, or something else entirely?”
My jaw tightens. They don’t say she’s an Omega. But they’re circling it like sharks. Poking at her. At us.
“...Registered as a Beta, but observed in a potential Heat state...”
It’s an opening shot. They’re poking the perimeter, seeing who flinches.