Chapter 12 Grateful But Terrified
Grateful But Terrified
Sandra
Iwake up to a room saturated in the heavy, lingering scents of my pack.
The air is thick with the smell of smoky marshmallow, ginger, dates, and honeysuckle.
I stay still for a moment, my eyes closed, letting the memories of the night before wash over me.
Reaffirming the bond had been a desperate, visceral necessity; a way to scrub the sight of Nero’s face from my mind using the bodies of the men I’ve come to love.
It worked. The hollow ache in my chest is gone.
I’m bare under the heavy weight of the comforter.
The cool morning air pricks at my shoulders where the blanket has slipped off my breasts.
My skin feels sensitized, humming with the ghost of their touch.
I reach out to my left, searching for the solid heat of Jethro’s body.
My hand finds only cold sheets. I open my eyes, blinking against the dim light filtering through the blackout curtains.
The nest is empty. A quick glance at the clock on the nightstand tells me it’s nearly ten in the morning. I’ve slept later than usual.
He’s at the Lucky Road. I settle back into the pillows, pulling the comforter up to my chin. It makes sense. He likes to be there for the breakfast rush. I can almost picture him behind the mahogany bar, his brow furrowed as he wipes down the wood, his salt-and-pepper hair tied back.
A soft flutter in my lower stomach pulls my attention away from thoughts of Jethro.
I press my bare palm against my skin, waiting.
There it is again. A tiny, rhythmic tap.
Our baby is awake. I let out a slow breath, a genuine smile tugging at my lips.
Two months ago, I was a girl running for her life, terrified of the debt my father had pinned to my back like a target.
Now, I’m a woman in a nest, bonded and pregnant.
I force myself out of bed, the cool air hitting my naked body. I grab Jethro’s discarded flannel shirt from the chair near the window, slipping it on. It’s huge on me, the hem reaching mid-thigh, saturated in his smoky marshmallow scent. I button it up over my bump and go to the bathroom.
I head downstairs, the sound of the house rise to meet me.
The kitchen smells like Luca’s bakery and fresh-brewed coffee.
Ross is at the stove, his back to me. He’s wearing a worn t-shirt that clings to his broad shoulders, his ginger scent a bright, comforting note in the room.
He’s humming something low under his breath as he flips a stack of pancakes.
Caleb sits at the island, his head buried behind his open laptop.
Lines of complex code reflect in his dark frames as his fingers fly across the keys.
He’s been working obsessively on the software for the new Omega Tags—discreet trackers designed to be hidden inside jewelry or clothing so no Omega can ever be taken against their will.
He looks up as I enter, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose.
He doesn’t smile, but the way his brown eyes soften when they land on me says everything.
He reaches out, sliding a mug of herbal tea across the marble toward my usual seat.
“You’re late.” Caleb hits a final keystroke to save his work. “Oli was starting to think we should go up and check on you.”
“I was tired.” I sink into the chair, wrapping my hands around the warm ceramic of the mug. I look around the kitchen, searching for the one face I need to see. “Where is Jethro?”
Oli wanders in from the mudroom, his golden hair a chaotic mess, his green eyes bright. He walks straight to me, leaning down to press a soft kiss to my temple. “The bar.”
“I figured.” I take a sip of the tea, the warmth spreading through my chest. “Did he say when he’d be back for lunch?”
Ross turns away from the stove, sliding a plate of pancakes and bacon in front of me. He avoids my eyes for a second, focusing on the perfect arrangement of the food. “He didn’t give a specific time.”
I pick up my fork, but the first bite feels like lead in my stomach.
Something about the way Ross is standing—the slight tension in his shoulders, the way he’s over-focusing on the syrup bottle—makes my skin prickle.
Ross is the most transparent of all of them.
When he’s happy, the whole house knows. When he’s hiding something, he gets quiet.
“Is the bar okay?” I look between Caleb and Ross.
Caleb doesn’t look up from his laptop. “He’s just on edge because of yesterday, Sandra. Eat your breakfast.”
I spend the next hour in the living room with Oli, scrolling through nursery designs on his tablet. He’s excited, zooming in on cribs and soft rugs, his honeysuckle scent blooming with every layout we swipe through. I try to match his energy, but my eyes keep drifting to the time.
Eleven o’clock. Eleven-fifteen.
Jethro always comes home for lunch. It’s the one rule he never breaks.
Eleven-thirty rolls around. The front door doesn’t open.
I stand up, setting the tablet onto the coffee table. The peace I felt this morning is evaporating, replaced by a cold, sharp anxiety that feels like a needle under my skin. “He should be here by now.”
Oli looks up, his smile faltering. “Maybe he got held up with a vendor. Caleb said the schedules were off.”
“He would have called.” I walk to the window, pulling the lace curtain back. The street is empty. “He always calls if he’s going to be ten minutes late. Caleb, have you heard from him?”
Caleb’s still at the island, but his hands are frozen over the keyboard as he stares at his screen. Ross stands by the sink, staring out the window at the backyard. The silence in the kitchen is no longer the comfortable, domestic quiet of the morning. It’s the suffocating silence of a secret.
“Ross.” I walk into the kitchen, my heart hammers against my ribs. “Look at me.”
Ross doesn’t move. He keeps his gaze fixed on the budding trees in the garden.
“Ross, look at me right now.” I keep my voice even, but the command hangs heavy in the air.
He slowly turns. His blue eyes are clouded with guilt. He looks at Caleb, searching for permission, but Caleb just closes his eyes and lets out a long, slow breath.
“I’m going down there.” I grab my coat from the mudroom hook. “I’m going to the Lucky Road. If he’s that busy, I’ll just eat lunch at the bar with him. But I’m not sitting here waiting around for him.”
“Sandra, wait.” Caleb stands up, his voice low and firm.
“Wait for what?” I turn on him, my hands shaking as I shrug into the wool fabric. “He’s been gone for hours. After what happened yesterday, you expect me to just sit here and pretend everything is fine? He’s not at the bar, is he?”
Ross walks over, his hands out as if he’s trying to settle a spooked horse. “Sandra, honey, sit down. Please.”
“Where is he, Ross?” I step into his space, my chin tilted up. “Where is my Alpha?”
Ross lets out a heavy sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “He’s in Pueblo. He went to settle it with Sergio.”
A cold chill sweeps over my skin. I grip the edge of the island, staring at him to see if this is a bad joke. It isn’t. “Pueblo? He went there? Alone?”
“He told us to stay.” Caleb moves to my other side, his voice tight. “He has the military training. He said if he walked into a trap, we needed to be here to protect the house. He took the cash from the safe and went to clear your father’s debt.”
A hard knot of anger forms in my chest, pushing past the immediate spike of fear. “He went to negotiate with a mafia boss without telling me? He made a choice about my life, and my safety, and he didn’t even give me the chance to speak?”
“He did it to protect you.” Ross tries to touch my shoulder, but I step back.
“I don’t need a savior who hides things from me.” I cross my arms. “He thinks he can just go pay off the man who sold me, and I’ll just sit here and be grateful?”
“He’s invoking Alpha Law, Sandra.” Caleb’s voice is a calm anchor, but it doesn’t dull my frustration. “He’s making sure they can never touch you again. It’s the only way.”
“He still kept it from me.” I look between the three of them, shaking my head. “You all did. You let me wake up in that bed thinking he was five minutes away while he was walking right into my mess.”
I turn and head for the living room, needing space to breathe. My mind races through the scenarios, picturing Jethro standing in a warehouse trying to handle the mafia on his own.
I’m terrified. Deep down, a small part of me is grateful that he would risk his life to buy my freedom. But right now, the sheer terror of losing him buries that gratitude under a mountain of anger.
Waiting is the worst part.
I pace the living room until my feet ache.
Ross tries to hand me a glass of water, but I just shake my head.
Caleb sits on the sofa, his laptop forgotten beside him.
Oli sits quietly in the corner, his usually sweet scent carrying a sharp, anxious edge that fills the room.
None of us are talking. The secret is out, and now we’re just killing time until the phone rings or Jethro’s truck pulls into the driveway.
I stop at the front window again, pulling back the curtain. The street is still empty. “How long does it take to get to Pueblo?”
“Ninety minutes.” Caleb rubs his eyes behind his glasses. “Maybe slightly more if he got stuck behind any semis.”
“He’s been gone since seven.” I glance at the grandfather clock. “It’s almost noon. That’s five hours. If he was just handing over some cash, he should have been back by now.”
“Negotiations take time, Sandra.” Ross’s voice is tired. “He has to make sure the terms are locked. He has to make sure Sergio understands the law.”
“The law.” I let out a dry, humorless laugh. “The one that says I’m property. A guy with enough cash can just buy my freedom from the guy who sold me. I spent years at the Haven telling Omegas they weren’t objects, and here I am, being traded.”