5. Kael
KAEL
I stand in the dimly lit hallway, replaying everything that’s happened over the last few days. The storm outside mirrors the chaos in my head—each gust of wind stoking the flames of anxiety about our safety and the risks that come with staying hidden.
Fen has been gone a long time. We never made it to Millbrook. I knew from the start it was a stupid idea, but I was tired of being called the grumpy one, so I caved. And that’s exactly what nearly happened—we nearly got buried by an avalanche.
I knew Fen’s truck was too old and too slow—kind of like him, sometimes—to make it back. But he’s just too damn sentimental. He thinks that because the truck’s been passed down from one generation to the next, leaving it behind would be like abandoning his old man.
The thing is, that heap of junk he calls a truck is practically dead. Nothing works properly—from the wipers to the damn heating.
The door swings open with a creak that echoes through the stillness. Fen bursts in, and he’s cradling in his arms a half-frozen woman—her face pale, hair a tangled mess—snuggly tucked against him. Before I can even process his entrance, I find myself taking a step forward, my heart hammering in my chest.
“What the fuck are you doing?!” I demand, my voice a low growl that rumbles through the cramped space. The alpha inside me rages, protective instincts surging.
“Fen, where the hell did you go? And is that an omega?” My nose twitches instinctively as the scent wafts toward me, raw and faintly floral, beneath the layers of cold and fear. Yes, it is.
I’ve answered my own damn question!
“What the fuck did you do?” I practically bark, but the desperation in Fen’s eyes gives me pause.
“Kael, she needed help!” he explains, urgency in his tone, trying to catch his breath. “She was out there all alone. I couldn’t just leave her!”
“Send her back,” I snap, shaking my head. “We’ve been in hiding for too long, Fen. You know the risks that come with bringing an omega into our space. We can’t afford to attract attention! This is why we were going to Millbrook, to see her there not here. ”
Fen stands his ground, still cradling her close like she’s the most precious thing in the world. In this moment, I see how torn he is—caught between loyalty to me and his instinct to protect. He doesn’t say anything in response, but I can see the sparks of defiance dancing behind his eyes, and I know I won’t win him over easily.
Rhys, who’s been leaning against the doorframe, finally pushes himself off to join us. “Kael, come on,” he begins, attempting to intervene. “You’re not a monster. We can’t send her back out into that storm!”
I can feel my frustration mounting as I glance at the woman slumped against Fen, unconscious and vulnerable. The intensity of her scent—an omega’s scent—wafts delicately amidst the dampness of the cabin. It pulls at something instinctual inside me, igniting an urge to protect her, but I fight it down.
“Do you not understand what kind of trouble this could bring?” I hiss, glancing between Fen and Rhys. “We’ve kept our heads down for too long.”
Fen shifts slightly, tightening his grip on the woman as if his body alone can shield her from my scrutiny. “She isn’t a threat, Kael. You need to see that. Look at her. She’s half-frozen and barely conscious.”
The way he says it hits me, the worry in his voice cutting through my rage. I take a deep breath, the scent of cedarwood mingling with the dampness in the air, and I can taste the storm on my tongue—a stark reminder of the chaos that lurks outside.
The hallway is dim, with the light of a nearby lantern. I can feel the weight of my decisions pressing in, every breath thick with the sense of something darker approaching. I grip the edge of the doorframe, my muscles tense, contemplating the consequences of my next move.
But just as I’m about to argue further, something shifts. The woman’s eyelids flutter, and for a heartbeat, she’s aware of her surroundings. “Fine,” she whispers, her voice barely audible above the howling winds outside before her eyes roll back and she slumps lifelessly again.
My heart sinks at the sight. “Dammit!” I exclaim, instinctively moving closer to Fen and the woman, ready to intervene if necessary. “We can’t have her perish here! Get her to the fireplace.” My protective instincts force their way to the forefront, compelling me to act even as my mind warns me of the risks.
Fen shifts, maneuvering the woman carefully, and I follow them into the main room. I can feel Rhys at my back, adding his energy to the fray and grounding me in the chaos. As Fen lays her gently near the hearth, I take in the woman’s features more clearly. She’s disheveled, her once vibrant hair matted with frost, and an expression of pain etched onto her delicate features.
“What do we know about her?” I demand, glancing at Fen as he kneels next to the fireplace, stoking the flames higher. “Does she have anything on her?”
Fen shakes his head, a frown marring his brow. “Not that I could see. Just her car out there, abandoned. I think she was trapped by the storm.” He glances back at her, the worry and protectiveness in his stance palpable.
I can’t afford to let my instincts override my logic, but there’s a part of me that pulls toward her irresistibly. The scent that clings to her—that floral undertone combined with a note of vanilla—draws me in despite my better judgment.
I rub my temples, feeling the tension coil within me. “We can’t risk exposure, Fen. You know that! If anyone catches wind that we’ve taken in an omega, we’re done for.” My voice sounds harsh, but I can’t help it—I’m scared. Scared for our safety, scared for her.
Rhys steps up beside me. “Kael, stop. She’s not just any omega. She provides a chance for us to rebuild something meaningful. Remember, we were going to Millbrook to get one. What if we had bonded with her there? We would have to bring her here eventually, this is what we agreed.” The sincerity in his tone catches me off-guard; Rhys always knows how to appeal to my compassion.
“She’s a liability,” I retort, unable to shake the feeling that this was a mistake. “We can’t bring her into our world—what if her presence attracts danger? Our lives depend on keeping a low profile.”
“She’s half-frozen, Kael!” Rhys counters, his tone sharp. “Let’s at least warm her up and see if she can communicate. What if she’s more than just a stranded omega? We can’t turn our backs on someone in need.”
Fen nods earnestly, glancing from me to Rhys and back again. “You can’t deny she needs help. And what if she has information that could help us? Even if she doesn’t have a pack anymore, she might know something about the council.”
I study the woman, lying helplessly on the floor. Every instinct to protect and defend rises to the surface, battling the voice of caution in my head. But I can’t ignore the long-locked yearning to welcome someone into our fold, especially one who feels just as lost as we do.
“Fine,” I finally relent, the words escaping my lips as a reluctant agreement. “But if she becomes a risk, we’ll have to send her back. We can’t risk drawing attention to ourselves.”
Rhys exclaims with relief, his tone boisterous. “See? You’re not a monster, Kael! Let's just make sure she warms up first.” He moves over to the stove, gathering blankets and towels, preparing for her to regain consciousness.
I can’t let go of my caution, but something in me jumps at the thought of a new connection—something I haven’t felt in so long, not since the last pack I’d called home was decimated. There’s a chance I can turn this around, and I can’t help but hope that maybe she can be a part of something again, too.
I glance down at her resting, noticing the way her chest gently rises and falls. “Do you think she’ll be incapacitated long?” I ask, trying to mask my concern, but Fen is quick to respond.
“If she doesn’t wake soon, I’m getting worried,” he says, kneeling beside her. The soft glow from the fire highlights the fine lines of worry on his face. “We need to monitor her.”
As if on cue, Eliana stirs, her eyelids fluttering momentarily before she murmurs something incoherent. My heart races in unexpected rhythm, and a rush of protectiveness surges like a tidal wave. I step closer, drawn to the sight of her vulnerability.
“Stay with us,” I whisper softly, beckoning the warmth of the fire closer to both of us as if it could shield us from any impending danger.
Her eyes flutter open for just a moment, and I catch a glimpse of clarity amidst the confusion. “Fine,” she whispers, the word barely escaping her lips before she slumps back under the weight of unconsciousness.
“She needs help now, Kael,” Fen urges, eyes wide with concern that matches my own. “What do we do?”
I lock eyes with Fen, a silent exchange passing between us. “We have to warm her up, stabilize her. I’ll get more blankets from the storeroom.” Slipping past Rhys, I move quickly, my heart pounding with the weight of responsibility pressing heavily on my chest.
I rummage through the items stacked in the closet—extra blankets, thick quilts—and grab as many as I can carry. My mind races with possibilities about who she is and what brought her to this moment. An unbonded omega alone in a storm feels like a tragedy waiting to unfold.
Returning to the main room, I see Fen still kneeling by her side, his expression brimming with worry as he brushes her hair back gently. There’s a softness in him I didn’t expect, a protective instinct that glimmers just beneath his tough exterior. Rhys is rummaging through the kitchen, searching for something warm for her—maybe tea or broth. “We need to wake her up,” I say, trying to hide the fear clawing at my gut.
“Just hold on, Eliana,” Fen murmurs, using her name instinctively as if he already feels the bond forming.
I turn back toward the fireplace, tossing the blankets onto the floor near the fire. “Let’s move her,” I direct, feeling a surge of urgency. There’s too much at stake, and I can’t shake off the sense that we’re already pushing our luck by sheltering her.
“I’ll help you,” Fen responds, moving closer with determination. Together, we lift her gently, and I can’t help but notice how fragile she feels. A fierce protectiveness arises within me. She’s an omega—my instincts call to me, demanding I safeguard her. I feel the scent of her lingering in the air, beckoning, stirring something deep within my core.
As we settle her closer to the fire, I can finally see the details that make her who she is—freckles dusting her nose, soft lines of concern etched on her forehead, and that faint whisper of flower and earthy tones weaving around her. The warmth of the flames slowly begins to infuse the air, wrapping around us like a balm as Rhys returns with a steaming mug of tea.
“Here, let’s try this,” he says, kneeling beside her. “It’s chamomile. Should help.” He carefully guides the cup toward her lips, tilting it just enough for her to sip.
I watch, tension coiling in my stomach. Will she wake up? What do we do if she doesn’t? The storm thunders outside, and the cabin feels even smaller, encasing us in a bubble of vulnerability exposed to the chaos beyond.
“Well? Is she going to wake up?” I finally ask, my voice low but edged with concern.
Fen shrugs, brushing the damp strands of hair from her forehead. “She’ll be fine. Sometimes they just need a moment. All she needs is warmth and comfort.”
But a moment stretches into what feels like hours, and I’m falling deeper into my own thoughts, battling the fears that press against me like the storm outside. I can’t shake the worry that letting her in could be a mistake—a potential risk to our survival in this unforgiving wilderness.
I step back from the scene for an instant, needing to breathe, needing to mask the turmoil brewing inside. I glance around the cabin, the sturdy wooden beams keeping us protected from the storm, the memories of laughter and kindness shared in this space enveloping me, but the fear is persistent—it gnaws at my sanity.
“Kael.” Rhys’ voice draws my gaze back to him. “We can’t send her back out there. If we help her, we might just find a new ally.”
“But what if she’s being tracked?” I murmur, my voice hesitant. “What if this brings the council right to our doorstep?” I can’t let fear and paranoia take root. My instincts waver; they want to protect both Fen and the fragile creature lying before us.
“We take it one step at a time,” Rhys says, his tone soothing. “She’s an omega, Kael. She could become a part of our family.”
“Not only that, but she was on her way to Millbrook,” Fen adds.
Rhys and I exchange a look. Fen nods, visibly excited. “The universe brought her to us. We didn’t need to go to Millbrook after all—our omega came to us .”
I don’t like the way Fen’s already settled on her being ours .
Did he bond with her? Is that what he forgot to mention—that not only did he find and rescue her, but he bonded with her too?
Maybe it’s the storm making me paranoid. Or maybe just having an omega in the cabin is enough to set me on edge.
Either way, I’m not comfortable with her being here. And as much as Fen is excited, I’m going to have to keep an eye on not just her—but him, too.