20. Rhys
RHYS
I watch Eliana through the kitchen window as she sits at the small wooden table on the back porch, her laptop balanced on her knees, fingers flying across the keys with an intensity I've never seen before since the three months that she has been here. The morning light catches in her dark hair, creating subtle highlights that make my chest tighten with something I'm still learning to name. She's been out there since dawn, completely absorbed in whatever world she's creating on that screen.
The storm finally broke yesterday evening, leaving behind crystalline air and patches of blue sky that seem almost too bright after weeks of gray. The snow is already beginning to melt in earnest, creating small rivulets that trickle down from the eaves and pool in the yard. Spring is coming early this year, and with it, the end of our enforced isolation.
The end of whatever this is between us.
I pour myself a cup of coffee from the pot Fen made earlier, inhaling the rich aroma that mingles with the lingering scents of bacon and eggs from breakfast. Kael insisted on cooking this morning, probably as an excuse to bang around the kitchen and work off some of the restless energy that's been building in all of us. The knowledge that Eliana could leave at any time now sits heavy in the air, unspoken but present in every glance, every careful word.
"She's been out there for three hours," Fen observes quietly, joining me at the window. His hazel eyes track Eliana's movements with the same careful attention he gives everything else. "Hasn't even looked up once."
"Writing," I murmur, taking a sip of coffee that tastes bitter on my tongue. "It's what she does."
What she'll go back to doing in her own life, in her own space, without us.
Kael emerges from the hallway, still pulling on a fresh shirt. His dark hair is damp from the shower, and he moves with that controlled energy that tells me he's been thinking too hard about things he can't control. His eyes immediately find Eliana through the window, and I watch his expression soften in a way that would surprise anyone who doesn't know him like Fen and I do.
"Roads should be clear by afternoon," he says, his voice carefully neutral. "Main highway's been plowed twice since yesterday."
The words hit like stones dropping into still water, sending ripples of awareness through the kitchen. None of us respond immediately, but the tension ratchets up another notch. We all know what clear roads mean.
I set my mug down on the counter, the ceramic clicking against granite in the sudden silence. "We should talk to her."
"About what?" Fen asks, though we all know exactly what.
"About the fact that she doesn't have to leave," Kael says bluntly, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "About the fact that we don't want her to."
I run a hand through my hair, feeling the sandy brown strands stick up at odd angles. This conversation has been circling us for days, ever since the weather started clearing. None of us wants to be the first to say what we're all thinking, but time is running out.
"It's not that simple," I say, though part of me wishes it were. "She has a life, responsibilities. A career that doesn't involve being snowed in with three guys in the middle of nowhere."
"Does she?" Fen's question is quiet but pointed. "Because from what she's told us, that life wasn't making her particularly happy."
He's right, and I know it. The Eliana who arrived here a month ago was wound tight with stress and disappointment, carrying the weight of betrayal and professional uncertainty. The woman sitting on our porch right now, lost in her writing with an expression of pure contentment, is someone entirely different. Someone who's found something here that she wasn't getting in her old life.
But wanting something and being able to have it are two different things entirely.
I move away from the window, needing space to think clearly. The kitchen feels too small suddenly, filled with the scents of home and the weight of unspoken possibilities. "You know she'll say yes if we ask her to stay."
"That's the problem?" Kael's voice carries a hint of his usual growl.
"That's exactly the problem." I turn to face them both, seeing my own conflict reflected in their expressions. "She'll say yes because she cares about us, because she feels obligated, because she thinks it's what we want to hear. Not because it's what she actually wants."
Fen nods slowly, understanding immediately. "You want her to choose us freely."
"I want her to choose what's best for her," I correct, though the distinction feels important. "Even if that means leaving."
The silence that follows is heavy with the weight of things none of us want to acknowledge. We've all felt the shift in pack dynamics over the past weeks, the way Eliana has settled into our lives like she belongs here. Her scent mingles with ours in every room, her laughter has replaced the echo of loneliness that used to fill these halls, and her presence has created a balance between us that I didn't even realize we were missing.
But balance built on obligation or guilt won't last. And Eliana deserves better than that.
"So what do we do?" Kael asks, his usual decisiveness tempered by uncertainty.
I look out the window again, watching Eliana save her work and stretch her arms above her head. The simple movement draws my attention to the curve of her shoulders, the way her sweater clings to her soft curves, the contentment in her expression. My alpha instincts scream at me to claim, to keep, to protect what's mine. But the part of me that actually cares about her happiness knows that's not enough.
"We tell her the roads are clear," I say finally. "We help her pack if she wants to leave. And we make sure she knows that whatever she chooses, there's no pressure from us."
"And if she stays?" Fen's question carries hope he's trying to hide.
"Then we make sure it's really her choice."
Kael makes a sound of frustration, but he doesn't argue. We all know I'm right, even if none of us like it. Love—and I can finally admit to myself that's what this is—isn't about possession. It's about wanting someone to be happy, even if their happiness doesn't include you.
The back door opens, and Eliana steps inside, bringing with her the scent of fresh air and that unique sweetness that makes all three of us go still. Her cheeks are flushed from the cool morning air, and her eyes bright with the satisfaction of productive work.
"Good morning," she says, her smile encompassing all of us. "Sorry I disappeared so early. I woke up with this scene in my head and had to get it down before I lost it."
"How's the writing going?" I ask, genuinely curious. Over the past weeks, I've watched her relationship with her work transform from something that stressed her to something that brings her genuine joy.
Her face lights up in a way that makes my chest tight. "Really well, actually. Better than it has in years. I think I might actually finish this book."
"That's wonderful," Fen says, and I can hear the warmth in his voice. "What's it about?"
Eliana blushes, ducking her head in that way she does when she's pleased but embarrassed. "It's different from my usual stuff. More personal, I guess. About finding home in unexpected places, about learning to trust again after betrayal." She glances between us, her expression growing more serious. "About discovering that family isn't always the people you're born with."
The words hit me like a physical blow, so perfectly encapsulating what these past weeks have meant that I have to look away. When I glance at Kael and Fen, I see the same recognition in their faces.
"Eliana," I start, then stop, not sure how to begin this conversation.
She must hear something in my voice because her expression grows cautious. "What is it?"
I take a breath, forcing myself to meet her eyes. "The roads are clear. You could leave today if you wanted to."
I watch as understanding dawns on her face. Her smile fades, replaced by something more complex—relief, sadness, uncertainty all mixed together.
"Oh," she says quietly. "I see."
"We wanted you to know," Kael adds, his voice gentler than usual. "That you have options now. That you're not trapped here anymore."
Something flickers across her expression—hurt, maybe, or disappointment. "Trapped. Is that what you think I've been?"
"No," I say quickly, stepping closer. "That's not what we meant. We don't want you to feel obligated to stay because of what's happened between us. Because of the bond."
Her dark eyes search my face, then move to Kael and Fen. "And if I said I wanted to leave? Right now?"
The question hits like a knife between the ribs, but I force myself to answer honestly. "Then we'd help you pack and drive you wherever you needed to go."
"And if I said I wanted to stay?"
This question is somehow harder to answer, loaded with implications and hopes I'm afraid to voice. "Then we'd want to know why. We'd want to be sure it was what you really wanted, not just what you thought we wanted to hear."
She's quiet for a long moment, her gaze moving between us with an intensity that makes me want to squirm. Finally, she nods. "I need some time to think."
"Of course," Fen says immediately. "Take all the time you need."
But even as I nod agreement, I can smell the subtle shift in her scent—not distress, exactly, but something more complex. The sweet omega fragrance that's become as familiar as breathing carries undertones I can't quite identify. Change, maybe. Decision.
"I'm going to go for a walk," she says, already moving toward the front door. "Clear my head a bit."
"Eliana—" I start, but she's already grabbing her jacket from the hook by the door.
"I'll be back," she says, glancing over her shoulder with a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "I just need to think."
The door closes behind her with a soft click, and the three of us are left standing in the sudden silence of the kitchen. Through the front window, I watch her walk down the cleared path toward the main road, her figure growing smaller with each step.
"Well," Kael says eventually. "That went about as well as expected."
"She's hurt," Fen observes quietly. "She thinks we want her to leave."
"Don't we?" The question slips out before I can stop it, raw and honest in a way that surprises even me. "Isn't that the responsible thing? To let her go back to her real life instead of keeping her here because we want her?"
Kael's expression darkens. "Since when do you care about being responsible when it comes to what we want?"
It's a fair question, and one I don't have a good answer for. In business, in life, I've always been the one to take what I wanted without apology. Charm and confidence have opened doors that might have stayed closed to others, and I've never hesitated to walk through them.
But this is different. Eliana is different.
"Since it's her life we're talking about," I say finally. "Since she's already been hurt by people who claimed to care about her but really just wanted to use her."
The accusation hangs heavy between us, and I see the moment it hits home in both their faces. Because that's what we'd be doing, isn't it? Using our bond, our connection, the feelings we've built over these weeks to keep her here for our own happiness instead of what's best for hers.
"You think that's what we're doing?" Fen's voice is quiet, but there's steel underneath. "Using her?"
"I think," I say carefully, "that we need to be very sure we're not."
We fall into silence again, each lost in our own thoughts. Outside, the day continues to brighten, melting more snow and revealing patches of brown earth that promise spring's eventual arrival. Life moving forward, whether we're ready or not.
I find myself thinking about the first night Eliana was here, how small and lost she looked despite her attempts to maintain composure. The way she flinched when any of us moved too quickly, the careful distance she kept even as she was grateful for our help. She'd been hurt, betrayed by people she trusted, and it had taken weeks for her to begin to relax around us.
Now she laughs easily, touches freely, settles into our space like she belongs here. The transformation has been gradual but profound, and I realize I've been so focused on my own feelings, my own wants, that I haven't stopped to consider what the past month has meant to her.
Has it been healing, or have we just been another cage, prettier than her old life but a cage nonetheless?
"I'm going after her," Kael announces suddenly, already moving toward the door.
"Wait," I catch his arm, feeling the tension in his muscles. "Let her think. She said she needed space."
"She's been walking for twenty minutes," he argues. "In weather that's still unpredictable. What if—"
"What if she needs this time away from us to figure out what she actually wants?" I counter. "What if following her just proves that we can't respect her boundaries?"
He stops, conflict clear on his face, but he doesn't pull away from my grip. "I don't like it."
"None of us do," Fen says quietly. "But Rhys is right. She needs to make this choice without us hovering."
Kael's jaw works for a moment before he nods reluctantly. "Fine. But if she's not back in an hour, I'm going looking."
I release his arm, understanding the compromise. We're all struggling with the same protective instincts, the same need to ensure Eliana is safe and cared for. But sometimes protection means giving someone space to breathe, even when every instinct screams against it.
The next hour passes with excruciating slowness. Kael paces between the kitchen and living room like a caged animal, pausing at each window to scan for any sign of Eliana's return. Fen busies himself with unnecessary cleaning, organizing kitchen cabinets that are already perfectly organized. I try to read, but the words blur together on the page, my attention constantly drawn to the driveway outside.
When Eliana finally appears at the end of the drive, all three of us converge on the front window like teenagers waiting for prom dates. She walks slowly, her hands buried deep in her jacket pockets, her expression thoughtful rather than distressed. But there's something different about her posture, a set to her shoulders that suggests she's reached some kind of decision.
The front door opens, and she steps inside, bringing cold air and the scent of melting snow. Her cheeks are red from the wind, and her hair has escaped its ponytail to curl around her face in a way that makes my fingers itch to touch.
"I've been thinking," she says without preamble, her dark eyes moving between us with steady purpose.
"And?" Kael's voice is carefully controlled, but I can hear the tension underneath.
She takes a breath, and I catch that scent again—that subtle change I noticed earlier, now stronger and more complex. Not distress, I realize suddenly. Determination. And underneath that, something that makes my alpha instincts sit up and take notice.
Heat. The beginning whispers of it, still days away but present enough to recognize.
"I want to ask you something," she says, seemingly unaware of the way all three of us have gone suddenly still. "And I want you to answer honestly."
"Anything," Fen says immediately.
Her lips curve in a small smile. "Do you want me to stay because you care about me, or because I'm an omega and you're alphas and this is what's supposed to happen?"
The question is blunt, direct, and completely fair. It's also the exact thing I've been afraid she might ask, because it cuts right to the heart of everything we've been dancing around.
"Both," Kael answers before either Fen or I can speak, his honesty as brutal as always. "I won't lie to you, Eliana. The fact that you're omega matters. It matters to all of us, in ways that are biological and instinctual and not entirely rational."
She nods, as if she expected this answer. "But?"
"But that's not why I want you to stay," he continues, his voice growing rougher. "I want you to stay because you make me laugh. Because you argue with me when I'm being unreasonable, and you're not intimidated by my moods. Because watching you write makes me understand why people talk about passion like it's a living thing."
Fen steps forward, his quiet voice carrying clearly in the sudden stillness. "I want you to stay because you see things others miss. Because you make our house feel like a home instead of just a place we sleep. Because you've shown me what it means to care about someone else's happiness more than your own comfort."
They both look at me expectantly, and I realize it's my turn to be honest. The truth sits heavy in my chest, complex and layered and more vulnerable than I usually allow myself to be.
"I want you to stay because you challenge me," I say finally. "Because you make me want to be better than I am. Because for the first time in my life, I understand what it means to love someone enough to let them go if that's what makes them happy."
The silence that follows is profound, filled with the weight of confessions and the electric tension of unspoken possibilities. Eliana's scent grows stronger, and I see the moment both Kael and Fen recognize what I caught earlier.
"Eliana," Fen says gently, "are you—"
"Yes," she interrupts, color flooding her cheeks. "I think so. Soon."
The admission changes everything and nothing. Heat cycles are intense, overwhelming experiences that blur the lines between choice and instinct. Whatever decision she makes now, we'll all wonder later if it was influenced by biology rather than genuine feeling.
"Maybe," Kael says carefully, "you should wait. Make your decision after—"
"No." Her voice is firm, sure. "I've spent my whole life letting other people tell me what I should want, when I should want it, how I should feel about my own choices. I'm not doing that anymore."
She steps closer, and her scent wraps around us like a living thing, sweet and complex and undeniably ours. "I want to stay. Not because you're alphas and I'm omega, not because of heat or bonds or any of that. I want to stay because for the first time in my adult life, I feel like I'm home."
The words hit me like a physical blow, so perfectly echoing my own feelings that I have to grip the back of the nearest chair to stay steady. Around me, I can feel Kael and Fen responding to the same emotional impact, the same recognition of something profound and true.
"Are you sure?" I ask, because I have to, because she deserves to be asked even if the question kills me.
Her smile is radiant, transforming her entire face. "I've never been more sure of anything."
The next few moments blur together in a rush of movement and sensation. Kael reaches her first, his large hands framing her face as he looks down into her eyes with an expression of such tender intensity it makes my chest tight. Fen moves to her side, his smaller hand finding her waist, anchoring himself to her warmth. And I find myself directly behind her, close enough to feel the heat radiating from her body, close enough to bury my face in the curve of her neck and breathe in the scent that's become as essential as air.
"We should go upstairs," Fen murmurs, and there's no question in any of our minds what he means.
But Eliana shakes her head, her hands reaching back to find me even as she leans into Kael's touch. "Not yet. I want to show you something first."
She pulls away gently, moving to her laptop bag and withdrawing a thick sheaf of printed pages. Her manuscript, I realize, as she sets it carefully on the coffee table.
"I finished it," she says, pride and nervousness warring in her voice. "This morning, while I was thinking. The last chapter just came to me."
"That's incredible," I say, meaning it. "What's it called?"
Her cheeks flush pink, but she meets my eyes steadily. "Finding Pack."
The title hits like a revelation, encompassing everything that's happened between us over these past weeks. Not just romance, not just desire, but the deeper recognition of belonging that's been building with each shared meal, each quiet conversation, each moment of understanding.
"Read it to us," Kael says suddenly, his voice rougher than usual.
"What?" Eliana blinks at him in surprise.
"The last chapter," he clarifies, settling onto the couch with an expectant expression. "I want to hear how it ends."
Fen immediately moves to sit beside him, patting the space between them meaningfully. "We all do."
I watch Eliana's face cycle through surprise, uncertainty, and finally a shy pleasure that makes my heart clench. "You really want to hear it?"
"More than anything," I tell her truthfully, taking the chair across from the couch so I can see her face as she reads.
She settles between Kael and Fen with a natural ease that speaks to how comfortable she's become with us, the manuscript balanced on her knees. Her fingers tremble slightly as she finds the right page, and the scent of her approaching heat grows stronger, more complex.
"Okay," she says, taking a breath. "But don't judge me if it's terrible."
"Impossible," Fen assures her, his hand finding hers and squeezing gently.
She begins to read, and her voice gradually grows stronger and more confident as she loses herself in the words. The story she tells is beautiful and raw and achingly familiar—a tale of a woman who finds herself snowed in with three men who show her what real love looks like. Who teach her that trust can be rebuilt, that home isn't a place but a feeling, that family is something you choose rather than something you're born into.
As she reads, I find myself watching her more than listening to the words. The way her face lights up when she reaches a passage she's particularly proud of, the way she unconsciously leans into Kael's warmth, the way her free hand fidgets with the hem of her sweater when she's nervous about our reactions.
She's beautiful like this, lost in her art, sharing something deeply personal with complete trust that we'll treat it with the respect it deserves. The realization hits me suddenly and completely: I am utterly, irrevocably in love with this woman. Not just with her body, not just with the omega aspects that call to my alpha nature, but with her mind, her heart, her fierce creativity and gentle strength.
When she finishes reading, the silence is profound. Kael's arm has found its way around her shoulders at some point, and Fen's hand is still clasped in hers. She looks between us with growing uncertainty, clearly worried about our lack of immediate response.
"It's perfect," I say finally. "Absolutely perfect."
"You think so?" The hope in her voice is almost painful to hear.
"I think," Kael says slowly, "that you've written something extraordinary. Something that's going to touch a lot of people who feel lost or displaced or unsure where they belong."
Fen nods agreement, his hazel eyes bright with emotion. "It's not just a romance, is it? It's about finding yourself, about learning to trust your own instincts about what makes you happy."
Eliana's smile could power the entire house. "Exactly. That's exactly what I was trying to say."
She sets the manuscript aside carefully, then turns to face us with an expression of such open vulnerability it makes my breath catch. "I meant what I said before. About wanting to stay. About being home."
"Even knowing what that means?" I ask gently. "The complications, the logistics, the fact that we're still figuring out how this works ourselves?"
"Especially knowing that," she says firmly. "I don't want easy anymore. I want real. I want messy and complicated and genuine." Her gaze moves between us, steady and sure. "I want you. All of you."
The last thread of my control snaps at her words, at the absolute certainty in her voice. I'm out of my chair and kneeling beside the couch before I fully realize I'm moving, my hands framing her face the way Kael's did earlier.
"Are you absolutely certain?" I ask one more time, because I have to, because once we cross this line there's no going back.
Her answer is to lean forward and kiss me, soft and sweet and tasting of coffee and possibilities. When we break apart, her eyes are bright with tears I don't think she realizes she's shedding.
"Take me upstairs," she whispers, and there's no hesitation in any of us.
The next few hours blur together in a haze of sensation and emotion more intense than anything I've ever experienced. Eliana's heat is just beginning, making her skin hypersensitive and her scent intoxicating, but she's still herself—still the woman who argues politics over breakfast and steals the covers and makes terrible puns that somehow become endearing through sheer repetition.
We take turns worshipping her body, learning what makes her gasp and sigh and arch beneath our hands. Kael's knot locks them together with an intensity that leaves them both shaking, while Fen and I provide comfort and support and our own desperate need to touch and be touched.
When it's my turn, she looks up at me with such trust and love that I nearly lose control before we've even properly begun. "I love you," she whispers as I sink into her heat, and the words hit me like lightning, transforming everything.
"I love you too," I manage, and then coherent thought becomes impossible as her body accepts mine, as the bond between us strengthens and deepens until I can't tell where I end and she begins.
Hours later, we lie tangled together in the king-size bed that suddenly seems too small for all of us. Eliana is curled between Kael and Fen, both alphas still radiating protective satisfaction. I'm pressed against her back, my arm around her waist, listening to the steady rhythm of her breathing.
"No regrets?" I murmur against her hair, unable to stop myself from asking.
Her laugh is soft and drowsy. "Only that it took us this long to figure it out."
"We had to be sure," Kael says, his voice rough with exhaustion and satisfaction.
"I was sure weeks ago," she admits, tilting her head to look at him. "I was just afraid you'd think I was being too needy, too clingy. Like everyone always tells me I am."
"Never," Fen says fiercely, his arm tightening around her. "You're not too anything. You're perfect exactly as you are."
She sighs contentedly, settling deeper into our embrace. "I still can't quite believe this is real. That I get to keep you."
"You're not keeping us," I correct gently. "We're choosing each other. Every day, for as long as it works for all of us."
"Forever, then," she says with such quiet confidence that my heart stutters.
"Forever," Kael agrees, and for the first time in my life, the word doesn't scare me.
Outside, I can hear the steady drip of melting snow, the distant sound of traffic on the main road. The world is returning to normal after our month of isolation, but nothing will ever be the same for any of us. We've found something here, something precious and rare and worth protecting.
As Eliana drifts off to sleep between us, I find myself thinking about the manuscript she read earlier, about the story of finding home in unexpected places. She wrote it as fiction, but I think she knew even then that she was really writing about us, about this feeling of perfect rightness that settles in my chest every time I look at her sleeping face.
Tomorrow we'll have to start figuring out the practical details—how to blend our lives officially, how to handle the logistics of a four-person relationship, how to make this work in the real world beyond our isolated sanctuary. But tonight, none of that matters. Tonight, we're exactly where we belong, and that's enough.
More than enough. It's everything.
I close my eyes and let myself drift, surrounded by the scents and warmth of my pack, my family, my home. Whatever challenges tomorrow brings, we'll face them together. And somehow, that makes everything possible.