6. Marcus
MARCUS
L ast night, it was as if the stress of the day kept us from catching up like we used to.
None of us felt like watching a game or even hanging out.
We all went to our rooms, and this morning by the time I got up, they'd both left for work.
I'm about to call them to see if they remember our plans today when, as soon as I walk into the house, I see Felix in front of me, looking like he just walked in too.
"Ciao," Felix says, dropping his keys on the table. "Che giornata." What a day.
"I saw Belle Hartwell at Murphy's Market yesterday," Felix mentions casually as he rolls up his architectural drawings, but there's nothing casual about the way his eyes sharpen. "She looked... stressed. She kept checking her phone like she was expecting bad news."
"She's probably dealing with library board politics," I suggest, though something in Felix's tone makes my alpha instincts prick with interest. "Mrs. Henderson mentioned they're having budget discussions.
She also said something about Belle getting a 'very interesting piece of mail' recently, with that look she gets when she knows something juicy. "
"Are you sure Mrs. Henderson isn't Lady Inkwell?" Felix asks, raising an eyebrow. "She knows about everyone's business."
I dismiss it with a wave. "Mrs. Henderson knows about everyone's business, but she gets way more pleasure from talking about it face to face.
She wants to see people's reactions, watch them squirm.
Lady Inkwell hides behind that app, she gets her information without having to look anyone in the eye.
Mrs. Henderson would never give up the satisfaction of seeing someone's face when she drops her bombshells. "
"Maybe," Felix agrees. "Or maybe she's nervous about the ball. First-time attendees usually are."
Something is different about this year. Not just our plan to corner Seraphina, though that's definitely going to be satisfying. There's an energy in the air, a sense that things are aligning in ways that are going to require all of my alpha dominance to control.
Maybe it's the increased number of applications, or the fact that we're finally taking direct action about Seraphina's self-destructive isolation. I just wish I knew exactly what kind of chaos I'm going to need to dominate.
The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of phone calls and negotiations where I remind various people exactly why they should be afraid to disappoint me.
Sterling Development Group is in the middle of negotiating a major mixed-use project that would bring affordable housing and commercial space to the outskirts of Willowbrook, my way of improving a community that doesn't appreciate what it has.
It's also the kind of project that requires delicate handling of local politics, environmental concerns, and community input.
The irony that I'm working to improve a community that barely tolerates my existence isn't lost on me, but I didn't build a multimillion-dollar company by being petty about other people's stupidity.
I take what I want and make it better. Whether people appreciate it or not is irrelevant.
By three-thirty, I'm ready for action. Ready to focus on something that might actually matter—showing a broken omega that she has alphas willing to fight for her whether she wants them to or not.
I notice that Felix is wearing dark jeans and a button-down shirt that emphasizes his deceptively lean build, and Theo's khakis and polo shirt can't hide the way he moves like violence is always an option.
Whereas I've opted for jeans and a sweater, he kind of outfit that says "I'm trying to be approachable" while still making it clear that I'm not someone to be trifled with.
"Ready?" I ask.
"Ready," Felix confirms, tucking a small wrapped package under his arm. "Brought her some of those lavender cookies from Murphy's Bakery. I remember her mentioning she liked them, back before..."
He doesn't finish the sentence. None of us like talking about "before"—before the accident that broke Seraphina, before she decided that happiness was something other people deserved but not her, before she started punishing herself for the crime of surviving.
We all head in my truck and drive to the Palace. It means fifteen minutes through winding country roads that give me too much time to think about what we're walking into. The October afternoon is crisp and clear, the kind of day that makes my alpha blood sing with the need for action.
Thornfield Palace isn't a real palace, it’s just what locals have always called it, probably because of its impressive size and Gothic Revival architecture that dominates the landscape like a fortress.
Built in the 1890s by railroad money, it's a sprawling mansion of gray stone and leaded glass windows, surrounded by grounds that could hide an army.
During ball season, Felix transforms the palace into something from a dark fairy tale with lighting that creates shadows and secrets, flowers arranged to encourage intimate conversations, pathways designed for seduction and discovery.
But today, approaching the smaller groundskeeper's cottage where Seraphina has been hiding for seven years, it just looks like a prison. Beautiful but isolated, like a cage designed to keep something precious locked away from the world.
I park the truck next to the cottage's tiny front garden, noting the way Seraphina has maintained the flower beds with obsessive precision. Everything in perfect rows, nothing out of place, like she's trying to control the only thing in her life that she can.
"Remember," I say as we approach the front door, though my voice comes out harder than I intended, "we're not leaving here without a yes."
Felix nods, clutching his package of cookies like they're weapons. Theo adjusts his posture in a way that makes him look less intimidating while somehow becoming more dangerous.
I knock on the wooden door which is painted sage green and adorned with a simple wreath that probably cost more time than money with just enough force to let her know this isn't a casual visit.
For a moment, there's only silence. Then footsteps, light and hesitant, like she's hoping we'll give up and leave.
Not fucking likely.
The door opens just wide enough for us to see Seraphina's face, pale and drawn but still beautiful in the way that broken things can be when they're worth saving.
Her blonde hair is pulled back in a simple ponytail, and she's wearing jeans and an oversized sweater that makes her look even more fragile than she is.
Her scent hits us immediately, because she’s an omega, but it’s muted and careful, like she's learned to keep it contained. There's something sad about it, the way it lacks the warmth and openness that healthy omegas carry. It makes my alpha want to fix whatever broke her.
"Marcus," she says quietly, her voice carrying just a hint of surprise that doesn't quite hide the wariness underneath. "Felix. Theo. Is everything alright with the palace preparations?"
"Everything's fine," I assure her, though my voice carries more command than comfort. "Actually, we wanted to talk to you about something else. We're coming in."
It's not a request, and she knows it. After a moment of hesitation, she steps back and opens the door wider, recognizing alpha authority when she encounters it.
The cottage is exactly what I expected and everything that makes my protective instincts surge. Spotlessly clean, minimally furnished, devoid of the personal touches that make a house feel like a home. It's like she's living in a temporary space, even after seven years of self-imposed exile.
"Tea?" she offers, already moving toward the small kitchen with the kind of automatic politeness that broken omegas use as armor.
"That would be perfect," Felix says before either Theo or I can decline, settling into the space like he belongs there. He sets the package of cookies on the small dining table with deliberate care. "I brought these from Murphy's. I remembered you used to like them."
"You remembered that?" she asks, and there's something vulnerable in her voice that makes me want to hunt down everyone who's ever made her feel forgotten.
"We remember everything about you," Theo says with the kind of intensity that made him effective in interrogations. "That's actually why we're here."
As Seraphina busies herself with tea preparation, I take the opportunity to really examine her living space. It's comfortable but sterile, like a well-appointed prison cell. No photographs, no mementos, nothing that speaks to who she was before tragedy redefined her existence.
It's unacceptable.
"Seraphina," I begin as she sets cups of steaming tea in front of us, my voice carrying the kind of authority that ends arguments before they start, "we want to talk to you about the ball."
Her hands still, just for a moment, and I can smell the spike of anxiety in her scent. "If there's a problem with the arrangements…”
"There's no problem," Felix interrupts "We want to invite you. Again. But this time, we're not accepting your usual excuses."
She sits down across from us with movements that are too careful, too controlled, like she's afraid of taking up too much space. "I appreciate the gesture, but you know I don't attend social events anymore."
"Why?" Theo asks with military directness, leaning forward in a way that makes the space feel smaller, more intense. "And don't give us some bullshit about not being interested. We all know that's not the real reason."
For a long moment, the only sound is the ticking of an antique clock and the subtle sound of three alphas breathing in unison, creating a wall of dominance that fills the small space.
Then Seraphina speaks, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Because I don't deserve to be happy when they can't be."
The words hit like a physical blow, Felix's scent sharpens with anger, and Theo's hands clench into fists before he forces them to relax.
"That's not how love works," Felix says, his voice carrying a dangerous edge that most people never hear. "The people who loved you wouldn't want you to stop living because they couldn't stay."
"You don't know that," she replies, but there's no real conviction behind the words, just the kind of desperate clinging to pain that some people use as a shield.
"Actually, we do," I say, my voice carrying the kind of alpha certainty that doesn't allow for argument.
"Because we know what it's like to love someone.
And when you love someone, you want them to be happy.
You want them to have joy and connection and all the beautiful things that make life worth living. "
"Even if you can't be there to share it with them," Theo adds with the kind of gentle ruthlessness that made him effective with trauma victims.
Seraphina looks up at us with eyes bright with unshed tears, and for the first time since we've known her, she looks less like a ghost and more like a woman who might be worth fighting for.
"I wouldn't know how to act," she admits, and I can hear the fear underneath the words. "It's been so long since I... since I tried to connect with people."
"That's what the masks are for," Felix points out with predatory satisfaction. "You can be anyone you want to be, just for one night. No expectations, no pressure. Just the possibility of remembering what it feels like to be alive."
"And you'll have us there," I add. "You know us. If you get overwhelmed or want to leave, we'll make sure you get home safely."
She's wavering, I can see it in her face and smell it in her scent. The part of her that has been buried under grief and guilt is stirring, remembering what it felt like to want things, to hope for connection.
"I don't have anything appropriate to wear," she says finally, and I know we've won.
"That's easily solved," Felix says with genuine enthusiasm that doesn't quite hide the possessive edge underneath. "I know a boutique in the city that specializes in vintage-inspired formal wear. I'll drive you there tomorrow, help you find something perfect."
"We'll cover the cost," I add, cutting off her protest before it can form. "Consider it payment for years of below-market rental rates."
"And," Theo says with the kind of gentle command that makes smart people listen, "if you decide at the last minute that you can't go through with it, that's your choice. But you're going to have the option, because that's what the people who loved you would have wanted."
Seraphina nods slowly, and for the first time since we've known her, she almost smiles—a real expression that transforms her face from beautiful-but-broken to something that makes my alpha instincts roar with possessive satisfaction.
"Okay. Yes. I'll... I'll try."
The drive back to town feels different somehow, charged with the kind of alpha satisfaction that comes from a successful hunt.
We've done something important today that goes beyond business arrangements or social obligations.
We've reminded a broken omega that she's worth claiming, that her presence in the world matters to people who are strong enough to protect what's theirs.
"Think she'll actually show up?" Theo asks as we pull into our driveway.
"She'll be there," Felix says with quiet certainty that carries the weight of prophecy. "She's stronger than she thinks she is. She just needed alphas strong enough to remind her."
I hope he's right. Seraphina deserves a chance at happiness, at connection, at remembering what it feels like to be protected and valued and claimed by people who understand her worth.
But even if she doesn't come to the ball, even if fear or guilt convinces her to hide again, we've planted a seed. We've shown her that there are alphas willing to fight for her, that isolation isn't her only option.
Sometimes that's enough. Sometimes that's everything.
Later that evening, as I'm getting ready for bed, I can't shake the feeling that today was the first move in a game I haven't fully understood yet.
Not just because we might have convinced Seraphina to attend the ball, though that success feels like claiming territory that's been disputed for too long.
As I settle into bed, staring up at the ceiling of the room Felix designed to catch the morning light just right, I find myself thinking about fate and coincidence and the inevitable ways that alphas claim what belongs to them.
This year is going to be different. I can feel it in my bones, in the way my alpha instincts are already preparing for something significant.
I just hope everyone else is ready for what's coming.
Because ready or not, some things are inevitable. And three alphas who've learned to hunt together are a force that very few things can resist.
The ball is going to be perfect. And after that, everything else will fall into place exactly the way it's supposed to.
The way I'm going to make sure it does.