17. Acceptance Of Who I Can Be
17
ACCEPTANCE OF WHO I CAN BE
~SERENITY~
S erenity retreated to her assigned quarters, a suite larger than her entire former apartment.
The luxury was overwhelming—a king-sized bed draped in Egyptian cotton, a bathroom with a tub that could fit three people, a sitting area with its own fireplace. These men lived differently than she had ever known.
After a quick exploration, she changed into the silk pajamas someone had thoughtfully laid out for her. The high thread count felt foreign against her skin—another reminder of how drastically her life had changed in mere days.
She hesitated, looking at the three items she'd placed on a chair. After a moment's deliberation, she gathered them and approached the bed.
Instinct took over as she arranged them—Darius's sweater at the head of the bed, where its scent would be closest to her during sleep. Lucian's pillowcase draped over her own pillow. Ronan's jacket placed at the foot of the bed, like a sentinel.
The arrangement felt right in a way she couldn't articulate. When she finally slipped between the sheets, surrounded by the mingled scents of the three alphas, something inside her settled—a tension she hadn't even recognized relaxing.
Staring at the ornate ceiling, Serenity's mind raced despite her physical exhaustion. Her life had become unrecognizable. A month ago, she'd been a financial consultant with a modest apartment and a carefully constructed life. Now she was the heiress to a criminal empire, living in a mansion with three alpha billionaires who each represented different facets of the underworld she was meant to control.
Darius, with his polished exterior and razor-sharp business acumen. The way he looked at her, as if assessing both her worth and her potential—it unnerved her, but also made her want to prove herself. His touch earlier, guiding her through the mansion, had been properly distant yet somehow intimate. She couldn't deny the flutter in her stomach when he spoke in that cultured voice, especially when his control slipped just slightly to reveal the power beneath.
Then there was Lucian, calculating and cerebral. His intelligence matched hers in a way few others ever had. Their verbal sparring throughout the evening had been exhilarating—challenging her to think three steps ahead. The way his eyes followed her movements, missing nothing, made her feel simultaneously exposed and fascinating. What would it be like, she wondered, to have that intense focus directed entirely on her pleasure?
And Ronan. God, Ronan was dangerous in an entirely different way. Raw and unapologetic, he carried his power without the veneer of civilization the others maintained. His bluntness should have repelled her, but instead, it drew her in. At least with him, she knew exactly where she stood. The memory of his calloused fingers brushing against hers when he handed her his jacket sent an entirely inappropriate heat through her core.
"This is insane," she whispered to the empty room. "I can't want all of them."
But her body disagreed, responding to each alpha in different but equally powerful ways. Her rational mind understood the dynamics at play—omega biology responding to compatible alpha pheromones. But knowing the science didn't make
The first blush of dawn filtered through the gossamer curtains, casting the room in a pale golden glow. Serenity's lashes fluttered against her cheeks as consciousness slowly claimed her. Her mind, ever analytical, began cycling through the previous day's events before her eyes fully opened.
The estate. The three alphas. The uneasy alliance that had thrown her life into disarray.
She took a deep breath, inhaling the calming scent of the nest they'd created together last night—a gesture that had touched something primal within her, despite her determination to remain detached. The air carried traces of each alpha: Darius's clean, spiced elegance; Ronan's earthy intensity; and closest of all, Lucian's sophisticated bergamot and amber warmth.
Too close.
Her eyes snapped open as she registered the weight of an arm draped possessively around her waist, the solid heat of a body pressed against her back. She froze, immediately cataloging sensations: the steady rhythm of breath against her neck, the unmistakable scent that identified her unexpected bedmate before she even turned to look.
Lucian.
His face in sleep was transformed—the calculating sharpness softened, his usual mask of control temporarily abandoned. Golden-brown hair fell across his forehead, and his lips, so often curved in knowing smirks, were relaxed. He looked almost vulnerable.
"What the hell?" she whispered, more confused than angry.
The arm around her waist tightened imperceptibly, drawing her closer against the lean strength of his chest. Even unconscious, he radiated the quiet confidence that seemed as essential to him as breathing.
Serenity's immediate instinct was to shove him away. No alpha had the right to enter her private space uninvited, regardless of the unusual arrangement they'd formed. Yet something held her back—a complex tangle of emotions she wasn't prepared to examine too closely.
She shifted carefully, turning in his embrace to study his face. The intimacy of the position sent an unwelcome flutter through her stomach. Up close, she could see the faint shadows beneath his eyes, evidence that the composed facade he maintained came at a cost.
"You should have asked permission," she murmured, though she knew he couldn't hear her.
Her golden eyes with their distinctive red flecks traced the strong line of his jaw, the elegant slope of his nose. In sleep, the power he embodied was no less present, just temporarily contained—like a predator at rest.
She should wake him. Demand an explanation. Reassert the boundaries he'd so casually crossed.
Instead, she found herself relaxing incrementally into his embrace, her body responding to his proximity in ways her mind wasn't ready to acknowledge. The omega in her recognized his scent as safety, even as her rational self rebelled against the very notion.
"I am not some stereotype," she thought fiercely. "I don't need an alpha to feel secure."
Yet the steady beat of his heart against her back created a rhythm that seemed to synchronize with her own. Her eyelids grew heavy again, the combination of dawn's early hour and his soothing presence lulling her back toward sleep.
"Just a few more minutes," she decided, "then I'll deal with this intrusion."
She allowed her eyes to close, just for a moment. Lucian shifted in his sleep, his face nestling into the curve of her neck, breath warm against her skin. The gesture was unconsciously possessive, and she should have hated it.
She didn't.
The complexity of her response troubled her even as consciousness began to slip away again. She was Serenity Vale, heir to an empire built on blood and ambition. She'd spent her life cultivating independence, building armor against the world's expectations of an omega. And yet here she was, finding inexplicable comfort in the arms of an alpha she barely knew and certainly didn't trust.
Her last coherent thought before sleep reclaimed her was that this—this unplanned intimacy—complicated an already impossible situation. But maybe, just for these stolen moments before reality intruded, she could allow herself this small surrender.
The second awakening came with the full light of morning streaming through the windows. Serenity stirred, gradually becoming aware that Lucian's arm still encircled her waist, though his breathing had changed. He was awake now, watching her with those penetrating amber eyes.
"Good morning," he said, his voice a low rumble that she could feel vibrating through his chest where it pressed against her back.
Serenity stiffened, fully conscious now and acutely aware of their position. "Care to explain why you're in my bed?" she asked, her tone impressively level despite the chaotic swirl of her emotions.
Lucian's lips curved into that infuriating half-smile. "You were restless. Nightmares, I think. I heard you from the hallway."
She narrowed her eyes, not bothering to hide her skepticism. "So naturally, you decided the solution was to climb into bed with me rather than, I don't know, knocking?"
"Would you have let me in if I had?" he countered, making no move to release her from his embrace.
"No."
"Then I made the right choice." His tone held no apology, just that assured certainty that both irritated and fascinated her. "Your distress was affecting the entire wing. Alpha instinct. When an omega in our..." he paused, selecting his word carefully, "...protection is in distress, we respond."
Serenity pushed against his chest, creating space between them. "I don't recall agreeing to anything that gives you the right to invade my personal space, instinct or not."
To her surprise, he released her immediately, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender before sitting up against the headboard. The movement caused the sheet to pool around his waist, revealing a torso sculpted with lean muscle. He was still fully clothed in what appeared to be silk pajama bottoms and a fitted t-shirt—small mercies.
"Fair enough," he conceded. "Though you seemed comfortable enough a moment ago."
Heat crept up her neck, and she hated the involuntary reaction. "I was asleep."
"And remarkably peaceful, once I joined you." There was something almost gentle in his observation, a softness at odds with the calculating businessman she'd come to know.
Serenity ran a hand through her tangled brown hair, gathering her composure like armor. "Let's get something straight. This arrangement between us—between all of us—is temporary and practical. I appreciate the protection you three are offering, but boundaries matter to me."
Lucian regarded her thoughtfully, his amber eyes missing nothing. "Boundaries are constructions, Serenity. Useful in certain contexts, limiting in others. But I'll respect yours, for now."
"For now?" she repeated, incredulous.
"Until you decide to change them." The confidence in his tone should have been offensive, but instead sent an unwelcome shiver down her spine.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed, putting physical distance between them. "Has anyone ever told you that you're insufferably arrogant?"
"Frequently," he replied with a laugh that transformed his features, making him look younger, almost carefree. "Usually right before they realize I'm also right."
Despite herself, Serenity felt her lips twitch. His self-awareness made his arrogance somehow less grating. "Get out of my room, Lucian. I need to shower and change."
"As you wish." He rose from the bed with fluid grace. "Though the invitation to join you is open, should you reconsider."
"Out," she repeated, pointing to the door.
He moved toward it, pausing at the threshold. "Breakfast in thirty minutes. Darius is something of a culinary enthusiast—you won't want to miss it."
When the door closed behind him, Serenity let out a long breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. The room felt suddenly larger without his presence, and colder too. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to process the complicated mess of emotions his uninvited presence had evoked.
Irritation, yes. But also something dangerously close to desire.
"Get it together," she muttered to herself as she headed for the shower. "This isn't some romance novel. You're fighting for survival, not falling for three alphas with questionable morals and too much power."
Yet as the hot water cascaded over her shoulders, she couldn't quite banish the memory of Lucian's warmth, or the sense of security she'd felt in his arms. It was biology, she reminded herself. Omega responses to compatible alpha pheromones. Nothing more.
The lie tasted bitter, even unspoken.
The kitchen was already occupied when Serenity arrived thirty minutes later, her hair still damp from an extended, meditative session in the shower. She'd taken her time, not just to wash away the night's confusion but to prepare herself for the morning's inevitable entanglements. Dressed in tailored black pants and a cream silk blouse, she chose her outfit as purposeful as any battle gear. It was armor of a different sort—professional, controlled, a visual reminder to herself and the alphas that she was not merely some omega to be claimed. She was a businesswoman, an heir to an empire, and she wouldn't let anyone forget it.
She paused at the entryway, taking in the scene. Darius stood at the massive professional range, his movements precise as he flipped something in the pan with the same measured control he applied to everything. His casual yet confident posture exuded an authority that seemed utterly unshakable, even in domestic settings. It struck her as absurdly fitting that the heir to a crime dynasty would also command a kitchen with the same mastery he did entire territories.
Her gaze shifted to where Ronan sat sprawled at the wide marble island, an amused smirk playing on his lips as he watched her. His presence was as raw and unfiltered as ever, a stark contrast to Lucian's polished refinement and Darius's controlled composure. She knew he'd be the one least likely to respect her carefully constructed boundaries—Ronan followed his own rules and no one else's.
"Looking sharp this morning," he drawled, his voice cutting through the soft sizzle of cooking like a knife. "Important meeting we don't know about?"
“No,” she said, struggling to keep her composure. "Just trying to maintain some standards around here."
Serenity held her breath as she spoke, fighting the mix of amusement and exasperation Ronan always seemed to elicit in her. His presence was a force field of chaos that dared her to abandon the control she clung to so fiercely. It was a challenge she both resented and was irresistibly tempted by. Her eyes flickered to Darius, then back to Ronan, who lounged with such practiced indifference, he seemed fused to the sleek kitchen island. She wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of seeing her flustered.
Especially not after the morning she'd just had.
Ronan grinned, his smirk widening into a full-fledged smile that highlighted the rugged sharpness of his features. The deceptively casual way he draped himself over the chair, his confidence as brazen as ever, only added to her internal frustration. He was dressed in faded jeans and a worn t-shirt, his usual uniform of rebellious nonchalance, and she found herself wondering once again how someone so unpredictable could feel so permanent.
She moved into the room, every step calculated to project an air of ease she didn't quite feel. Being mindful not to appear too hurried or too awkward, she sat a few seats down from him, arching an eyebrow as if daring him to challenge her unconvincing show of calm. If Lucian's surprise visit had shaken her, she was damned if she'd let Ronan know it.
Ronan's eyes never left her, watching every movement with an intensity that would have unnerved her if she didn't know him better. He had a knack for reading her well, sometimes too well, and she wasn't in the mood for any more invasions, physical or otherwise. Still, even with the defenses she'd spent years perfecting, she found herself intrigued by his insistence on understanding her.
"Standards, huh?" Ronan teased. "Didn't realize claiming an empire had such a formal dress code. Or are you just trying to impress us?"
She rolled her eyes, brushing off his probing with practiced indifference, even as the accusation pierced a little too close to the truth. Was she trying to impress them? The thought prickled at her, unwanted and irritating. She tightened her arms across her chest, a stance of defiance more than comfort. Her feelings about them—and about her current situation—were a mess, and she couldn't let herself slip into a role she'd spent her whole life resisting.
"No one's ever accused you of having standards before," she shot back. "You wouldn't recognize them if they bit you."
But his comment lingered, as irritating as it was provocative. Was it a weakness to want to appear strong in front of your adversaries, even if those adversaries were also your reluctant allies? Or maybe it was a strategy, she rationalized. Keep them guessing, keep them off balance. Convince them you were something more than they expected.
Or maybe she was just fooling herself.
She shifted her gaze over to Darius, who remained unperturbed by the banter, absorbed in the task of cooking breakfast with the same meticulous precision he applied to his more dubious enterprises. The sight was disconcertingly domestic, a jarring juxtaposition to the power and ruthlessness she knew him to possess. It was almost like seeing a wild animal masquerade as a house pet, and she couldn't help but be fascinated by the incongruity.
"Didn't know you could cook," she remarked, aiming her words at Darius but fully aware that Ronan was watching for her reaction to this unexpected domesticity. "I'm not going to find poison in my coffee as part of some hostile takeover, am I?"
Her attempt at levity was partially a deflection, a way to avoid confronting the unsettling emotions roiling beneath her carefully composed exterior. The vulnerability she'd felt in Lucian's arms—the way her mind and body had betrayed her instincts—still echoed in her thoughts, making her painfully aware of how these men, each in their own way, had the potential to unravel her.
"We don't need poison," Ronan interjected, his expression wickedly amused. "Darius's cooking will knock you out all on its own."
A reluctant smile tugged at her lips despite her intentions. Ronan's irreverent humor was infuriating, yet it also had a way of breaking through her walls, offering a momentary reprieve from the relentless calculations that ruled her life.
"You should be dressed like that more often," he added, his gaze sweeping over her with apparent appreciation. "Almost makes you look like you belong here."
The statement caught her off guard, a reminder that even a simple compliment from Ronan carried layers of meaning. Did she belong here? The truth was she didn't know, and the uncharacteristic uncertainty gnawed at her. It was a new kind of vulnerability, one she'd thought she'd inoculated herself against but was now discovering in these perilous new dynamics.
"Don't hold your breath," she replied, doing her damnedest to keep her tone light and carefree, like she wasn't even phased by his comment, and unwilling to let him see how deeply his words resonated. They hit with deadly accuracy, and she chafed at how well he could read her, at how easily he got under her skin. Fire back, she told herself. You're not some helpless Omega letting these Alphas take charge. You're Serenity freaking Vale. Get a grip.
"Shouldn't you be out making trouble somewhere?" she added, forcing herself to act unbothered. "Or has domestic life tamed you already?"
Ronan's grin only widened. He gave a little shrug, one so casual it bordered on dismissive. "Maybe I just like it here," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
The words were deceptively simple, yet they carried a weight that made Serenity's breath catch in her throat. He was comfortable here, staking his claim without a second thought. And what about her? Her place among them was much less certain. Was she here as an equal or as a liability? The thought nagged at her, unwelcome and persistent, threatening to unravel her guarded composure.
She shifted in her seat, trying to dismiss the notion. "Give it a week," she shot back, infusing her voice with a derisive playfulness she didn't quite feel. "I'm sure you'll be bored and breaking things just for fun."
But he watched her with those perceptive eyes, as if he knew every layer of her bravado, every vulnerability she tried to hide. Serenity tightened her arms across her chest again, a futile attempt to shield herself from how exposed she felt under his gaze. She couldn't afford this kind of distraction, not when she was still grappling with the unforeseen emotional complications of their arrangement.
Ronan chuckled, a low sound that seemed to vibrate through the spacious kitchen. "We'll see about that," he said. "Maybe you'll end up liking it here too."
There it was again—that infuriating confidence. He spoke as if it were all settled, as if she'd already admitted defeat to their collective charms. Serenity recoiled instinctively, resisting the pull of his words. She needed to be clear-headed, pragmatic. Her life depended on it. She was here out of necessity, not desire.
Except that didn't quite ring true, did it? Her mind flashed back to the night before, to the unsettling tangle of relief and irritation and yes, even lust that she'd struggled to shake off. Her own body was betraying her with its Omega biology, responding in ways she'd long trained it not to. She wasn't just fighting external threats. She was fighting herself.
"Don't count on it," she retorted, injecting one last desperate note of skepticism into the conversation. But even as she said it, she wasn't sure who she was trying to convince—Ronan or herself.
She tore her gaze away from his, feeling way too seen and way too vulnerable under the weight of his attention. She needed a distraction, something to focus on besides the whirlwind of emotions that Ronan provoked with such infuriating ease. Her eyes drifted to Darius, a safer target, she hoped, for her unsettled thoughts.
And there he was, moving with his usual precision, as if orchestrating a delicate operation instead of making breakfast. It was surreal, seeing him in such a domestic role. She watched, half-expecting him to switch gears and issue orders about taking out the competition, not flipping omelets.
"Impressive," she said, trying to sound blasé but unable to mask the thread of surprise in her voice. "Didn't take you for a domestic type."
Was she trying to compliment him? Maybe. But it was also a way to deflect from the tumult of feelings sweeping through her, to latch onto something less disconcerting than Ronan's knowing presence.
"Cooking is about control and creativity," Darius replied, unruffled. "Both useful skills in any setting."
The response was so characteristically him, an assertion of authority that masked layers beneath. Serenity found herself momentarily transfixed, caught between admiration and disbelief. How could these men be so many things at once? She thought she had them figured out, but every moment she spent with them complicated things further. They were not just her reluctant protectors. They were rivals, allies, and—most alarmingly—becoming something dangerously closer to partners.
She struggled to fit this into the framework she'd constructed for herself, a framework that was starting to feel more and more fragile under the pressure of unexpected alliances and unwanted affections. She was supposed to be above these entanglements, in control and independent. So why did their presence feel so plausible, like they'd already insinuated themselves into her life in ways she couldn't unwind?
"Never figured you for such a Renaissance man," she quipped, aiming for sarcasm but landing somewhere nearer to sincerity. "I'm not going to find poison in my coffee as part of some hostile takeover, am I?"
Ronan's laughter broke the moment, drawing her attention back to him and his easy disregard for anything resembling seriousness. "We don't need poison," he said, echoing his earlier jab but with more amusement. "Darius's cooking will knock you out all on its own."
She tried not to smile, she really did. But Ronan's irreverence was annoyingly infectious, and she could feel the corners of her mouth pulling upward despite her best efforts. His humor was a weapon, one she was defenseless against when it pierced through her armor and left her momentarily disarmed.
"You should be dressed like that more often," Ronan added, his eyes sweeping over her in a way that was both appreciative and possessive. "Almost makes you look like you belong here."
Serenity stiffened, the words hitting her more deeply than she wanted to admit. Was he just teasing her again, or did he actually mean it? The uncertainty was like an itch she couldn't scratch, a discomfort that lingered long after the remark itself. Did she belong here? Could she? The possibility was both terrifying and intriguing, a dangerous notion that threatened to undermine the defenses she had so painstakingly erected.
She set her jaw, forcing a mask of indifference back onto her face. She couldn't let herself be swept up in their orbit, couldn't allow herself to believe she had a place among them that was anything more than temporary and tactical. It was self-preservation, she told herself. It had to be.
"Whatever," she said, doing everything she could to pretend she didn't care, as if Ronan's hardly serious remark hadn't hit her square in the chest. It was a weak comeback, a flimsy shield she deployed to guard against the chaos of emotions she didn’t want to face. Her life was supposed to be a series of strategic maneuvers, not wild throws of the dice. She tried to reassure herself that she'd maintain her edge, even as everything around her seemed to edge closer to something terrifyingly genuine.
And that was when Lucian walked in, yawning like he had no cares in the world. She marveled at the sight, surprised to see him looking less than perfectly composed. His hair had that tousled, just-out-of-bed look that was annoyingly attractive, and he was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, an ensemble that was downright casual for someone who usually seemed over-dressed for his own skin.
"Looks like you slept in," Darius observed, casting a sidelong glance as Lucian made a beeline for the coffee. His tone was unreadable, the exact measure of friendly and competitive that marked most of their interactions.
Lucian shrugged, pouring a mug with more enthusiasm than accuracy. "Finally got hold of a good sleeping medicine," he replied, the words tinged with a dry humor that didn't quite hide the exhaustion beneath. "Chases all the nightmares away."
There was a vulnerability to his statement that Serenity couldn't ignore, a crack in his otherwise confident persona. It dawned on her that she wasn’t the only one who hadn't slept well, that maybe his suggestion to spend the night together had been about more than just comforting her. Maybe he had been looking for a way to deal with his own demons, to find a moment of peace in the same place she was trying to guard hers.
The realization hit her with an unexpected force, knocking loose the tight grip she thought she had on the situation. She wasn't used to seeing any of these men as anything other than unyielding forces of nature, certainly not as individuals who might be struggling with their own shit. Yet here was Lucian, effortlessly charming and apparently untroubled, and beneath that, just like her, dealing with a storm he couldn't quite control.
She wondered what haunted his nights, what specters he was running from. His past? His ambitions? Was it something she could help chase away or something that would eventually chase him away from her? The uncertainty was unsettling, another layer of complication she had no idea how to peel back.
And was she willing to offer him what he needed, even if it meant letting him get closer than she was ready for? The question lingered in her mind, refusing to settle into a neat answer. She didn't know how to be this version of herself, but she also didn't know how long she could pretend that the old version was still who she wanted to be.
Lucian rubbed a hand through his already disheveled hair, looking almost boyishly unguarded for someone who usually wielded charm as both sword and shield. He cast a glance at her, and she swore she saw something raw and pleading behind that usual confidence, as though he'd never get enough of looking at her.
"Sleep well, little buttercup?" Lucian asked, closing the distance between them with a few easy strides and gifting her a quick kiss on the lips. The move was almost too smooth, too natural for her to process, leaving Serenity at a rare loss for words. She didn't even have the time to muster a reaction before he pulled back, flashing her an infuriatingly confident grin. "Nevermind. I know how you slept," he added, tossing in a playful wink for good measure.
She groaned, shoving him off with a mix of exasperation and amusement. It was almost impossible to stay irritated, especially when Ronan chimed in with a taunt, "Why don’t we eat breakfast before we start wars?"
Reluctantly charmed, Serenity followed them and took a seat at the table, the sporadic harmony of their morning routine taking her by surprise. It was an easy back and forth, their banter light yet unexpectedly genuine. While she half-expected talk of mob wars and power plays, she found herself immersed in the kind of simple, meaningful exchanges that she’d never dreamed she’d be a part of.
As they ate, Darius glanced at her, his tone as decisive as ever. "I want to take you shopping," he declared. The room went silent, not just because of the proposition itself but because it was so uncharacteristically direct coming from him. Serenity was floored, but not nearly as much as Lucian and Ronan, who instantly seized the opportunity to pounce with teasing jabs.
"New territory for you, isn't it?" Lucian needled, looking far too amused for Darius's taste.
"Someone's getting pretty domesticated," Ronan added, the mockery in his voice one step shy of a full-on laugh.
Unfazed but unwilling to fuel their taunting, Darius stood up with his usual efficiency. "I'll get ready," he stated, rising to his feet. "Meanwhile, you two are on dish duty." His attempt at delegation was met with twin groans of protest, echoing their disinterest in any kind of menial task.
"Are you kidding me with this shit?" Ronan grumbled, clearly unenthusiastic about the assignment.
Lucian shot Darius a sidelong glance, still smirking. "I knew it," he said, acting as though he'd discovered some great secret. "You're getting soft on us."
Serenity couldn't help it; a giggle escaped her lips, surprising even herself. All eyes turned to her, catching the rare, unguarded moment, and she found herself admitting something she hadn’t allowed herself to even consider until now. "I’ve never experienced pack dynamics that feel so... casual and pure," she confessed, a thread of sincerity weaving through her words. It was an acknowledgment of sorts, one that resonated with more honesty than she planned to let slip. "Thank you for letting me be a part of this," she added, softer this time. "Even if it’s temporary and all."
Her words seemed to floor them, leaving a stunned silence that she took as her cue to continue. She wasn't sure how much she wanted to reveal, but something pushed her onward, as if this was a moment that required full exposure. "Before my Dad’s passing," she started, each word dragging a piece of her guarded past into the open, "I never really knew what it's like to have a normal Omega lifestyle." It was an admission that she hadn’t even allowed herself to articulate, an unveiling of vulnerabilities that she’d long hidden behind indifference and cynicism. "I’ve always disdained myself for being an Omega," she continued, each sentence a new level of exposure, "affected by hormonal nonsense that the world belittles. The circumstances have been crazy, but having three Alphas around through all the chaos has been a blessing I didn’t expect. I’m thankful for it—even if I don't want to be."
The admission hung in the air, as raw and unflinching as the emotions they reflected. She could see the impact it had on them, each man wrestling with his own reaction to her candor. The attention was almost too much to bear, but she forced herself to meet their eyes.
"I'll go with you," she said to Darius, accepting his offer with a nod that was more than an agreement to go shopping. "I might as well see what this whole Omega life thing is all about." It was her way of acknowledging that she didn't know as much about herself as she thought, that perhaps she’d been a little too quick to dismiss the value of what they were offering.
She left them with that, spinning on her heel to give herself a minute away from the overwhelming intensity of their combined attention.