Chapter 27
TWENTY-SEVEN
KOA
The house smells wrong.
Not bad. Not dirty. Just…unsettled.
Like something’s been cracked open and hasn’t decided what it’s going to become yet.
I don’t say anything at first. Neither does Kai. We don’t need to.
We’ve both felt it upstairs.
The way her body arched toward Sol like gravity had shifted. The way her breathing steadied only when he touched her. The way the rest of us might as well have been furniture.
I scrub a hand down my face and lean back against the counter. “Well.”
Kai folds his arms slowly. His jaw is tight – not angry, but thoughtful. Dangerous.
“That wasn’t subtle,” I add.
“No,” he agrees. “It wasn’t.”
Silence stretches between us, thick and heavy.
I shake my head once. “She didn’t just calm. She settled.”
Kai’s gaze flicks instinctively toward the ceiling. “Like a lock clicking into place.”
I grimace. “Yeah. That.”
We stand there for a moment, listening to the house breathe. To Sol’s pacing overhead. To the faint rustle of sheets.
“She’s burning up,” I say quietly. “Shaking. Disoriented. And that scent—”
“Fractured,” my twin finishes.
I nod. “Textbook.”
The phrase neither of us wants to say hangs there anyway.
Rejection sickness.
“She’s not fully emerged,” Kai says slowly. “But she’s close.”
“And she’s not rejecting Sol,” I add. “Her body’s reaching for him.”
He finally looks at me properly. “You felt it too.”
“Yeah.” My mouth twists. “Hate that I did.”
Another pause.
Then, carefully: “Do you think—”
“I think she’s an omega,” Kai says flatly. “And I think that Sol is her scent match.”
The words land like a punch.
I let out a low whistle. “That’s…a problem.”
“Several,” he agrees.
“And he doesn’t know it yet,” I add.
“No,” he says. “But he will.”
I glance toward the stairs again. “He’s going to lose his shit.”
“Yes.”
“And we’re going to have to deal with the fallout.”
Kai exhales slowly. “Yep.”
We don’t speak for a few seconds.
Then I say, “There’s something else.”
He raises a brow.
“She reacted to Sol the strongest.” I hesitate. “But she reacted to Finn some too.”
Kai’s eyes narrow slightly. “You think—”
“I think there’s a chance,” I say carefully, “that she has more than one scent match. Especially with the way Finn’s been so reluctant to leave her.”
That gets his full attention.
“…Fuck.”
“Yeah.”
Upstairs, a floorboard creaks. Sol’s footsteps. Fast. Agitated.
Kai straightens. “He’s spiralling.”
I snort. “That’s his favourite hobby.”
But neither of us smiles.
“Do we tell him?” I ask.
Kai watches the stairs for a long moment. “Not yet.”
“Why?”
“Because if he panics now,” Kai says quietly, “he’ll run. And that could make her worse.”
And something about that sits wrong in my gut.
“Yeah,” I mutter. “Can’t have that.”
We fall silent again.
Above us, the house feels warmer. More focused. Like something has chosen a direction. And whatever it is, Sol’s already standing in the middle of it.