7. Need to Leave
Need to Leave
Jessie
Bright morning sunlight streams through the gaps in the bedroom blinds. The storm blew over at some point during the night. The rain and howling wind vanished, leaving the apartment in silence.
I blink my eyes open and stare at the popcorn ceiling. The frantic, desperate need that hijacked my brain yesterday burned out. A stark clarity sharpens my mind. Because my heat was a spontaneous spike triggered by fake suppressants, it hit and vanished just as fast.
A persistent soreness settles deep in my thighs.
A tender ache radiates through my stretched core.
Every breath I take pulls the rich scent of their pack into my lungs.
The aroma of fig, clove, vetiver, and dark tea saturates the sheets and coats my skin.
Last night, that scent offered safety. Today, it suffocates me.
I turn my head on the pillow. On one side, Nolan sleeps on his back.
His face looks relaxed, and his glasses sit on the nightstand.
Edward stretches out flat on his back on the far side of Nolan, taking up the edge of the mattress.
He rests one arm behind his head, snoring a soft, steady rhythm.
The space on my other side is empty. Jake is missing; the sheets where he slept are already cool.
I don’t know where he went, and my panicked mind lacks the capacity to care.
Nolan and Edward still form a wall of heat and muscle, trapping me against the mattress.
Cold sweat breaks out across my forehead.
The walls of the small apartment close in on me.
My pulse hammers a frantic beat against my ribs.
Memories of the night play back in my head.
I let them into my apartment. I let them into my bed.
I took every single thing they gave me without a fight.
We knotted. We spent hours locked together in a chaotic mess of sweat and slick. I gave up control.
They promised me my career was safe in Willowside.
They swore the town council wouldn’t care about my designation.
Their promises don’t mean shit to me. I spent years in the foster system learning one absolute truth.
Trusting other people gets me hurt. Relying on anyone else means giving up my power.
I remember packing my clothes into black plastic trash bags in the middle of the night.
I swore I would never let anyone dictate my life again.
A true scent match demands permanent roots.
It forces a bond. If I stay here, I lose the independence I built my entire life around.
I refuse to become a stay-at-home mate, tied to this small town and these three Alphas forever.
The thought terrifies me. I refuse to give up my van, my mobile clinics, and my freedom.
That Ford Transit represents my entire world.
It holds my surgical tools, my bed, and my escape route.
The open road offers my only sanctuary. I can take a contract in Nevada or Wyoming.
I can disappear by nightfall and start over somewhere else.
The veterinary board needs doctors all over the country.
I don’t need a pack to survive. I need my tools, my skills, and a full tank of gas.
I need to get out of this town right now.
I focus on my breathing. I keep it slow and shallow. I need to untangle myself without waking the two of them up.
I slide my hips toward the empty space Jake left behind, holding my breath. I ease my legs free of the tangled sheets, avoiding the sprawl of Nolan’s legs. I slip off the edge of the mattress without making a sound. My bare feet hit the hardwood floor.
The cool morning air raises goosebumps on my naked skin.
I survey the mess on the rug. Discarded clothes sit in scattered piles from our rush to get into bed.
I spot my dark scrub pants hooked over the edge of a wooden chair and my v-neck scrub top crumpled near a pair of work boots. I grab my clothes.
I refuse to stand naked in front of them for another second, even if they sleep through the noise. I carry my scrubs and my boots into the small bathroom and shut the door with a soft click.
I dress in a rush. I skip my bra and just pull the stiff cotton scrub top over my head. I shiver as the cold fabric brushes against my tender skin. I yank the drawstring pants up over my sore thighs and shove my feet into my boots, skipping the socks.
I turn the cold water tap on and splash my face. I stare at my reflection in the mirror. My dark hair sticks out in wild tangles. Dark circles frame my wide, terrified eyes. I look like a cornered animal. The sheer magnitude of my fuck-up sends a fresh spike of panic through my chest.
My breath hitches. I grip the edges of the porcelain sink, my knuckles turning white.
I grab a washcloth, soak it in cold water, and scrub at my neck.
I try to wash their thick scent off my skin, but the fig and spice cling to my pores.
It burns like a brand. I drop the wet cloth into the sink. I need to leave.
Now.
I step out of the bathroom and creep into the living area. Every floorboard squeak makes me cringe. My worn suitcase sits right by the front door, still packed from the day I arrived. I never unpacked it. My subconscious knew this town was a trap from the start.
I grab the canvas straps of the bag and sling it over my shoulder.
Winston sits on the back of the floral sofa.
He watches me with judging green eyes. His ears flick back, picking up on the frantic energy rolling off my skin.
I grab his hard plastic carrier from the corner of the room.
I pop the metal grate open and approach the sofa.
I need him secure before I open the front door.
The last thing I need is a loose cat messing up my escape.
“Come here, buddy.” I keep my voice to a bare whisper. I scoop the tuxedo cat into my arms.
Winston lets out a confused trill. I shove him into the plastic box before he can complain and lock the metal grate. I grab my keys off the kitchen counter. I pat my back pocket, my fingers tracing the familiar square shape of my wallet.
I take one last look at the bed. Nolan and Edward remain asleep, exhausted from the demands of the heat. They look peaceful; it makes my chest hurt.
I turn my back on them. I grip the handle of the cat carrier and walk out of the apartment. I lock the door behind me. My heart hammers against my ribs as I head for the stairs.
I creep down the narrow staircase leading to the clinic lobby.
The wooden steps creak under my boots, the sound echoing like gunshots in the quiet building.
Every time a board groans, a tense pause follows as my ears strain for any movement from the apartment above.
Nothing. Reaching the bottom floor, the sterile linoleum offers a solid surface under my feet.
The silence of the clinic amplifies the racing beat of my heart. The smell of bleach and antiseptic clears the last lingering traces of their pack scent from my nose. Walking into the lobby, I stop in front of the reception desk.
Pulling the master ring of clinic keys from my pocket, the brass metal stares back at me from my palm.
Dropping these keys on the counter means breaking my contract.
Abandoning the animals and running away from a job for the first time in my career sends a wave of guilt over me, but the terror of losing my autonomy pushes the hesitation aside.
Setting the keys on the laminate desk, the soft clink sounds like a final resignation.
Adjusting the strap of my duffel bag and gripping Winston’s carrier, a direct path leads to the back exit.
Pushing through the thick metal door, the cool, crisp morning air hits my face. The gravel parking lot sits empty, holding nothing but my battered camper van. Their vehicles remain parked out front on the street, leaving my escape route clear.
Breaking into a jog, the gravel crunched loudly under my boots. Reaching the van, a hard yank opens the side door to toss my duffel bag onto the mattress in the back. Setting Winston’s carrier on the passenger seat, threading the seatbelt through the plastic handle keeps him secure.
“Time to get out of here, Winston.” I slam the door shut.
Running around the front of the van, a quick climb puts me in the driver’s seat. My hands shake shoving the key into the ignition. Twisting it hard, the engine roars to life. Cranking the steering wheel, my foot hovers over the brake pedal.
Shifting the gear into reverse, a glance in the rearview mirror lines up the exit.
A dark truck idles near the alley entrance. The sound of tires crunching on the gravel escaped my notice over the roar of my engine. Jake steps into my line of sight, walking from his vehicle into my path. He wears jeans and a t-shirt, carrying a cardboard drink tray with four coffees.
Slamming my foot on the brakes, the van jerks to a harsh stop, the tires kicking up dirt.
My heart leaps into my throat. Gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles, my chest heaves. Taking my foot off the brake means the van rolls back and crushes his legs. He knows it.
The clinic’s back door bangs open a second later.
The metal crashes against the brick exterior.
Edward and Nolan burst out into the gravel lot.
Edward pulls a t-shirt over his head on the run.
Nolan holds his glasses in his hand, his hair a tangled mess.
Looking frantic, their eyes scan the parking lot before locking onto the running van.
Bracing myself, the expectation of territorial Alphas takes over. Rage, demands, and commands to turn the engine off seem inevitable. Ripping my door open and dragging me back inside makes the most sense.
Stepping out from behind the bumper, Jake walks up to the driver’s side of the van, the coffees still balanced in his hand.
He stops a few feet away from the metal door.
Projecting a steady, grounding presence, he looks at me through the dirty glass, his dark eyes calm and focused.
Anger is absent from his expression. Looking like a man trying to soothe a cornered animal, the absolute lack of aggression throws my defensive instincts into a tailspin.
The panic in my chest stutters, confused by his calm demeanor.
Edward and Nolan stop a dozen yards away, giving us space.
Pointing a finger at the window, Jake makes a slow, rolling motion. He wants to talk.
I roll the glass rolls down, letting the cool morning air and the scent of fresh rain into the cab. “I’m leaving.” My voice shakes, but a forced determination keeps my gaze locked on his dark eyes. “Move out of the way, Jake. And where the hell did you even come from?”
“I went home to feed Duke and let him out since the rain kept us from doing it last night.” Jake keeps his tone low and even.
“I checked the storm damage around town and grabbed us some coffee on the way back.” He shifts his weight, his expression serious.
“I hear you, Jessie. I won’t stop you. If you put this van in reverse right now, I’ll step aside and let you drive out of town.
But I ask you to hear me out first. Just give me two minutes. ”
Staring at him, the expected Alpha aggression never surfaces. He sounds like a rational man offering a conversation.
“The scent match spooked you.” Jake takes a half-step closer, stopping when my spine goes rigid. “You woke up, realized what happened, and hit the panic button. You think staying means handing over the keys to your life.”
My jaw tightens. “It does. Omegas don’t get to keep their autonomy. The second people figure out my designation, they try to cage me.”
“I get it.” Jake nods. “You busted your ass to build this life. You trust yourself and nobody else. I like how stubborn and independent you are. I don’t want to change a damn thing about you.”
His words hit me right in the chest. He doesn’t dismiss the fear. He looks past the Omega designation and sees the armor. The thick, defensive walls start to crack.
“Then let me go.” My grip on the steering wheel loosens a fraction.
“I want to make you a deal.” Jake crosses his arms over his broad chest. “You have a three-month contract with the clinic. Turn the engine off and stay to finish it. Do your job. Earn your paycheck.”
A skeptical frown takes over my face. “And in exchange?”
“You let us court you.” Jake points back toward Edward and Nolan. “You give us three months to prove we aren’t a trap. We want to show you what staying in Willowside looks like. You keep your space. You sleep in your own bed whenever you want. And no claiming bites unless you ask for them.”
My breath hitches. A courtship without a bite is unheard of for a scent match.
“You guys are insane.” A disbelieving scoff leaves my throat. “Alphas don’t just hold off on claiming an Omega for three months. It goes against your nature.”
“We’ll deal with our nature.” Jake’s eyes burn with a fierce, stubborn determination. “Earning your trust matters way more than a bonding mark. Give us these three months. Let us cook for you, take you out, and show you we respect your hustle.”
Staring at the dashboard, my mind races. Three months of steady work means a huge paycheck. Three months of having a pack take care of me without the threat of a permanent bond sounds like a dangerous, addictive fantasy.
“What happens at the end of the contract?” Looking back at him, the question hangs in the air.
“If the ninety days run out and you still want to bail?” Jake holds my gaze, his voice dead serious. “We’ll pack this van for you. We’ll top off your gas tank, shake your hand, and watch you drive across the state line without a single argument. You hold all the cards, Jessie.”
Glancing past Jake, Edward and Nolan watch us from the edge of the gravel. They nod, confirming the deal. They look terrifying and gorgeous in the morning light.
Exhaustion sinks deep into my bones. The thought of driving away from them hurts in a way that defies logic. Seeing if they can keep their promise offers a reason to stay.
A long, shaky breath escapes my lips. Reaching forward, a twist of the key kills the engine, plunging the parking lot into silence.
Jake lets out a deep exhale, a triumphant spark lighting up his dark eyes. He steps up to the door and rests his large hand on the window frame.
Jake tilts his head. “Deal?”
“Deal.” Pulling the keys from the ignition seals the bargain. “ You have three months.”