3. Kael
KAEL
T he snow slams against the windows of our cabin. There's a snowstorm coming, which may last at least three months. Three months of isolation, and no work. The breath I let out is a puff of white air, a visible manifestation of the dread pooling in my gut.
“Three months?” I grumble, pacing the small living room, my mind spinning with the implications. Usually, we shut down for a month or so during the off-season, but three months feels like a prison sentence. “What the hell are we going to do for three months in this damn cabin? We can’t just sit around and stare at each other!”
The others linger nearby, Fen, sits quietly, eyes trained on the snow as if he has the power to make it go away. Rhys, shoots me a teasing grin, the corners of his mouth curling as he leans against the counter, looking far too relaxed for my liking.
“Well, I hear it’s supposed to be terribly romantic,” Rhys says. “Maybe we should get an omega to keep us warm.”
My brow furrows, and I shoot him a sharp glance. “That wouldn’t be a bad idea, actually,” Fen adds with a straight face, surprising me.
"Seriously? What are you two thinking? We're supposed to be in hiding!" I snap, shoving away from the kitchen table where financial reports are scattered like confetti. My chair scrapes against the rough-hewn floorboards as I stand. "The last thing we need is to draw attention to ourselves. We have a business to run, damn it."
Our "hideout" is a joke—a rustic cabin that's probably charming in the tourism brochures but feels like a wooden prison when you're six-foot-four and built like a linebacker. The ceiling beams are so low that Rhys has to duck every time he walks through the doorway, and the stone fireplace takes up half the main room, leaving us crammed together like sardines.
Rhys shrugs, his sandy brown hair flopping into his green eyes as he stretches his long frame across the threadbare couch. Even relaxed, you can see the lean muscle beneath his flannel shirt—the kind of build that makes omegas go weak in the knees. Lucky bastard. "What's the point of hiding if all we do is work and work? That's not exactly living. We have this amazing security firm which brings in a ton of money, and yet here we are—stuck in a little cabin with nothing but snow for company. Oh, and your grumpy face. If this snowstorm doesn't kill us from boredom, then your attitude will."
"Funny," I mutter, stalking over to the frost-covered window. My reflection stares back—dark hair that's gotten too long, stubble I haven't bothered to shave, and shoulders that barely fit through most doorframes. I'm built like a brick wall and about as approachable, according to most people. The swirling mass of snow outside matches my mood perfectly. There's a strange beauty to it, yes, but the prospect of being trapped here makes my skin crawl.
"It's not the worst idea in the world, Kael," Rhys continues, unfolding himself from the couch to lean against the kitchen counter, his movements fluid despite having to navigate around the cabin's cramped quarters. "Think about it. Three months of endless nights. We could have one wild adventure after another." His eyes light up with the prospect, that charming grin never leaving his face—the same one that's gotten us out of more scrapes than I care to count.
Fen snorts softly from where he's methodically organizing our supply inventory near the door, his compact but sturdy frame moving with quiet efficiency. He's got that dependable beta look—brown hair, hazel eyes, and the kind of steady presence that makes both alphas and omegas trust him instantly. "And what kind of adventure do you propose, Rhys? Learning a few dozen survival techniques while we fumble with our own issues?"
"Exactly!" Rhys exclaims, gesturing so enthusiastically he nearly knocks over the coffee pot on the narrow counter. "We could train together, bond over the fire, and find an omega to share stories with! We can turn this cabin into a winter retreat!"
I pace the length of the main room—all twelve feet of it—like a caged bear. "Unless we're bonding over heartbreak, I'm not keen on the idea. We might have a successful business, but we don't have love to justify those stories, Rhys."
Rhys folds his arms, tilting his head with that infuriating optimism of his. "But maybe that's the problem! We work together all day, but we're avoiding what matters. We connect with everyone else, but we refuse to open up ourselves, and now we'll be stuck here for three damn months!"
"A ragtag trio of hermits," I mutter under my breath, running a hand through my too-long hair. "The world's greatest survival team, unable to save ourselves from our solitude."
"Not just solitude—self-imposed exile," Fen murmurs thoughtfully, his quiet voice cutting through the air like the crisp chill seeping through the cabin's single-pane windows. He sets down his clipboard and looks at us both with those perceptive eyes that see too much. "We'll lose ourselves here if we let the isolation sink in."
"Exactly!" Rhys chimes in enthusiastically, pushing off from the counter. "An omega could be the heat we need to survive this storm—physically and emotionally! The touch of an omega can thaw even the coldest hearts."
Both of them turn to look at me, and I feel like a specimen under a microscope. I'm an alpha, so what if I'm grumpy? I was built like that—broad shoulders, permanent scowl, and a voice that can make grown men take a step back. Just because I don't walk around with a smile plastered on my face all day like Rhys doesn't mean I don't have a heart.
And as for Fen, he's our level-headed beta and questionably protective of both of us, but now he's acting like we should march out into a raging blizzard to find an omega. As if there's going to be one crazy enough to be out there in weather like this. And if there is one, then she's not the kind of omega we're looking for—not one I want to be bonding with anyway. The last thing I need is an omega I'd have to worry about every second of the day because she might do something stupid, like go out in the middle of a damn storm.
I stop pacing and cross my arms, the motion stretching my thermal shirt tight across my chest. "You two have officially lost your minds."
“So we just throw caution to the wind and hope for the best? That’s not exactly a sound survival strategy, Rhys.”
“It’s not about strategy, Fen; it’s about living!” Rhys pushes back, exasperated. “Wouldn’t you rather embrace messy love than stay stuck in this frozen purgatory?”
A long silence stretches between us. I stare out at the snow swirling like memories I’d rather forget, a tangible reminder of what lies beyond these walls. “Love is messy,” I finally say, my voice gruff. “But it’s also dangerous and exposes weaknesses. It’s part of what we’re hiding from.” “Yeah, but that risk comes with rewards,” Rhys counters, his expression earnest, a hint of mischief dancing in his gaze. “Imagine the stories we could gather. The laughter. What’s wrong with wanting something warm to come home to?”
I scoff lightly. “And what if we end up heartbroken instead? It’s not as simple as you make it sound. Not when we’ve got so much riding on our shoulders.”
Fen interrupts, his deep voice commanding attention. “Kael, if we sit here moping and doing nothing for the next three months, we will go stir-crazy. We’re supposed to be strategists, aren’t we? And strategists find ways to survive, regardless of the challenges.” He levels me with a gaze that feels both challenging and supportive, as if daring me to dig deeper.
I look between him and Rhys, feeling the weight of their expectations pressing down on me. “It’s not just love, you know. It’s trust. I’d need to completely drop my guard to let anyone in—especially an omega.” Even saying the word feels heavy on my tongue.
Rhys sidles closer, leaning against the kitchen island, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Trust me, Kael. You three are practically playing house already. You can do this. You just need to stop overthinking it. If we’re going to ride out this storm together, let’s make it an adventure worth remembering.”
My mind races over everything he’s said. They’re right; I can’t ignore the tide of emotions swirling beneath the surface, nor can I deny the spark of desire—a yearning for warmth in the coldness of this winter, not just in terms of temperature but companionship.I wonder what it would be like to have someone else here—maybe a whirlwind of joy?
Fen watches me, his unwavering gaze holding a depth of understanding that encourages. “You led us through storms before, Kael. You’ve faced down the elements time and again. You can face what’s inside as well.”
Rhys chimes in, softer now. “We’d protect our omega. This isn’t just about filling a void; it’s about finding connection. Don’t you feel it too? There’s a world outside waiting for us, and it’s not just about business. We can harness this storm to redefine ourselves.”
“I won’t just bring someone in and treat them like an experiment,” I say sharply, but even to my own ears, the protest feels hollow.
Rhys raises an eyebrow, smirking slightly. “Is that what they are to you? An anomaly to be studied? Lighten up, tough guy!”
Fen’s lips quirk ever so slightly. “Perhaps all the warmth and compassion you withhold is what makes it so cold in here.”
I glare at them both, but it’s in good humor. They’re right. I know they are. I can’t keep acting like a king in a castle when there’s a whole world beyond these walls. A castle gets cold without proper company.
The fire crackles in the hearth, a bubbling warmth enveloping the room. But suddenly, that warmth feels like something more—an invitation, a challenge, a call to action.
“Okay,” I say, finally breaking the silence that stretches between us. “Let’s say we decide to get an omega. How do we go about finding someone? You can’t just put out a newspaper ad, ‘Wanted: One Omega to Warm Our Cabin.’”
Rhys clasps his hands together, practically bouncing with excitement. “We’ve got the mountain community—trusted connections to tap into. We’ll reach out to the local packs. There are always a few omegas looking for a safe haven from the storm, especially when there’s a strong alpha presence.”
Fen nods slowly, chewing on the idea. “It could work. But we need to be discreet. We’re not looking for any drama or trouble.”
“Of course not,” Rhys assures, his charm twinkling in his eyes. “Just a cozy romance to keep the fires burning and maybe distract us from the impending doom outside.”
“There’s no such thing as a ‘cozy romance’ without complexity, Rhys,” I remind him, crossing my arms. “We’re not just dragging someone here to fill a void.”
He straightens up, suddenly serious. “I know. But we can also give them a chance for a fresh start. It’s not just about us. An omega could offer perspective, warmth, and adventure. Something we all desperately need.”
“I’ll consider it,” I concede, still feeling the tight knot of apprehension in my chest. “But there are no guarantees. Heartbreak is part of this path.”
“The same can be said for love,” Fen interjects. “Every relationship has its risks. But if we don’t take that leap, we’ll never truly live. Stagnation isn’t survival—it’s the beginning of death in another form.”
“Damn, you’re poetic,” I tease lightly, but the weight of his words sinks deep.
“Well, poetry is generally born from pain, and we certainly have our fair share of that, don’t we?” Fen replies, his expression as serious as the snowstorm outside.
I lean back against the counter, crossing my arms as I weigh their words. “Alright then, if we’re actually doing this, how do we approach finding an omega? It’s not like we can just walk into a bar and order one.”
Rhys laughs, the tension breaking slightly. “No ‘Omegas on Tap’ sign hanging above the bar, huh?”
“Right. You can always go straight for the deep end,” I quip, shaking my head. “But what do we say? ‘Hey, we’re a pack of grizzly alphas looking for someone to keep us warm.’”
“Honestly? That might not be the worst strategy,” he says, a grin spreading across his face. “Simplicity has its appeal! There might be omega initiates in the region willing to form a bond. We just have to be careful—it can’t just be about physical heat; there has to be emotional connection too.”
“It sounds like a typical mountain romance,” I mutter, feeling a knot in my stomach twist at the thought of vulnerability. “But what if we bring someone in and things don’t work out?”
Rhys steps closer, his expression serious again. “Then we adapt. Love is an unpredictable dance, Kael. You’ve faced danger in the mountains and navigated crises in the business world. Why should this be any different? You can’t avoid the risk—just learn to embrace it.”
"Besides," Fen adds in his usual deadpan manner, setting down another supply box with methodical precision, "having someone to come home to might lessen the burdens we carry. It's been too long since we shared warmth beyond obligations."
I look between them, feeling myself backing down a little too quickly as I lean against the windowsill. It's as if being idle for one day has made me think about matters of the heart, something I haven't thought about in a long time. But I hate to admit that Rhys is right—what's the point of work if there's never any fun? All work and no play makes an alpha go stark raving mad and start talking to kitchen appliances.
"Alright. I'll consider it. But we need to tread carefully," I finally say, straightening up as the weight of responsibility settles on my shoulders like a familiar coat. "No reckless decisions. This isn't just some game."
Rhys nods earnestly. “Absolutely! We take it slow. Gauge connections, see if there’s chemistry, and draw that magic line between companionship and something more.”
"And if it feels wrong? We pull back," Fen adds, pausing in his inventory counting to fix me with that piercing stare that cuts straight through to my doubts.
"Deal," I declare finally, pushing off from the windowsill feeling excited, but apprehensive at the same time. "We'll approach this thoughtfully."
Just as the words escape me, a howl of wind rushes against the cabin, rattling the windows and thrumming through the walls like a reminder of nature's unpredictability. Even so, the energy in this cramped space feels alive for the first time in weeks.
"Now, let's plan our attack!" Rhys claps his hands together and springs up from the couch, his enthusiasm bubbling over as he starts pacing the narrow strip between the fireplace and kitchen counter. At thirty-two, he still moves like he's ready to take on the world. "We'll start by reaching out to the local packs tomorrow. We'll lay the groundwork and see what we can unearth. Then we'll plot our next move, like the tactical geniuses we are."
I can't help but chuckle at his excitement, crossing my arms as I watch him nearly trip over the coffee table in his enthusiasm. "Alright, Officer Charmer, I'm all in."
Fen offers a rare smile, a small curve to his lips that makes his usually serious thirty-four-year-old face seem almost approachable as he sets his clipboard on the kitchen counter. "Let's see what this storm brings us, then. It won't be easy, but if it could lead us to a place of warmth, it's worth the risk."
"No pressure, right?" I joke, running a hand through my hair as the tension in my chest eases slightly. "Besides, an omega who can cook and clean for us wouldn't be the worst thing either."
Rhys stops mid-pace and turns to stare at me, his sandy eyebrows shooting up. "Kael, we don't need a maid. We want someone to love."
I shrug, a grin tugging at the corner of my mouth despite myself. "Well, someone who can cook us a decent meal wouldn't be bad either. Have you tasted what we've been surviving on?"
Fen snorts, moving to lean against the kitchen counter with his arms crossed. "You need to spend more time in the kitchen yourself, my friend. Your idea of cooking is opening a can."
"Fair point," I concede, and we all share a laugh that fills the small cabin with warmth that has nothing to do with the crackling fire.
Rhys grins and claps both of us on the shoulders. "So we're really doing this?"
I look around at my two closest friends, these men I've shared everything with for the past five years, and nod. "Yeah. We're really doing this."