22. Hailey
Chapter 22
Hailey
T he SUV hums quietly as we wind our way down the mountain road, leaving the cabin behind. I’m nestled in the middle of the back seat, Finn on my left, Stone on my right, both of them holding my hands as if they’re afraid I might disappear if they let go. It’s comforting, anchoring, especially when my mind tries to drift back to darker places.
Through the windshield, golden afternoon light dapples the road ahead. Jax drives with focused attention, his strong hands steady on the wheel. Beside him, Ren scans our surroundings with watchful eyes, ever vigilant. The radio plays softly, some indie folk song I don’t recognize, but otherwise, the car is quiet, each of us lost in our own thoughts.
We’d stayed an extra day at the cabin so I could rest, though I suspect it was for all of them, too. The past week has been... mind-blowing. Terrifying. Exhilarating. My neck still tingles where their marks sit, four distinct points of connection that I can feel even now, thrumming beneath my skin.
The bond has created something more intimate than I’d ever imagined possible. It’s like having four new senses awakened all at once. Finn’s warmth, Stone’s solidity, Jax’s depth, and Ren’s electric energy. It’s overwhelming, but in the best possible way.
I rub my thumb over Finn’s knuckles absently, and he squeezes my hand in response. When I glance his way, he offers a soft smile, his eyes warming the moment they land on me.
“Okay?” he mouths.
I nod, returning his smile. I am okay, all things considered. More than okay in many ways. The heat has passed, leaving me pleasantly sore and deeply satisfied. My body feels like it belongs to me again, with the added awareness that it now belongs to them as well.
Stone shifts beside me, his large frame making the leather seat creak. His thumb traces circles on the inside of my wrist, right over my pulse point. The gesture seems unconscious on his part, but the steady contact soothes something in me that I didn’t realize needed soothing.
I close my eyes, letting my head rest against his chest as memories of the past week wash over me. The cabin had been our sanctuary, but it was also where I learned just how deeply they could unravel me. Jax had pressed me against the wall, his hands pinning me there as his tongue tasted every inch of my neck. “Say it,” he growled, his breath hot against my ear. “Say you’re ours.” I’d gasped, the words spilling from me as Stone’s hands found my hips, his mouth claiming my breast. Finn’s fingers stroked between my thighs, teasing, light. And Ren...Ren had knelt before me, his ice-blue eyes locked on mine as he pushed me over the edge with his tongue. They’d surrounded me, consumed me, made me feel whole in a way I never thought I’d deserve.
The memory sends a pleasant shiver down my spine. Stone notices, his hand tightening slightly on mine.
“Cold?” he asks, voice rumbling low.
I shake my head, feeling a blush warm my cheeks. “No. Just…thinking.”
His eyes darken with understanding, the bond between us pulsing with awareness. “About?”
“The cabin,” I admit softly. “All of you.”
A satisfied rumble vibrates through him, too quiet for the others to hear but clear to me where our bodies touch. “Good thoughts, I hope.”
My blush deepens. “Very good.”
From the front seat, Jax catches my eye in the rearview mirror. The corner of his mouth lifts in a small, private smile that makes my heart stutter.
“Almost home,” he announces as we merge onto the highway.
Home. The word should feel simple, comforting. Instead, it sends an unexpected spike of anxiety through me. Heath’s men had been there before. Our home. They’d tried to take me away. It feels like so long ago now, but what if…
As if sensing my shift in mood, Finn squeezes my hand. “Ren had the security system upgraded, remember,” he tells me.
I nod. I’m grateful for his reassurance, but unease still crawls along my spine.
“What if the police are waiting for us?” I ask, voicing one of the worries that’s been nagging at me. “You all did things—to get me back, to escape. What if they’re looking for you, too?”
A tense silence fills the car. I can practically feel them exchanging glances, deciding how much to tell me.
It’s Ren who finally speaks, turning in his seat to face me. “The Ashgraves took care of it,” he says simply. “Their influence is…substantial.”
“But—”
“No buts,” Jax interrupts, his tone gentle but firm. “What happened at that facility, what we did to get you out—it’s been handled. The official story is that an anonymous tip led to a police raid. We were never there.”
I frown, not entirely convinced. “And Caldwell? What about the men that Ren had to…” I swallow hard, the words not wanting to come.
“Officially, that was Heath’s security detail turning on each other when the operation started falling apart,” Stone supplies. “Messy, but believable given the circumstances.”
“So no one’s looking for us?” I press. “No one suspects?”
“No one who matters,” Jax assures me. “The focus is entirely on Heath and Caldwell, exactly where it should be.”
I nod slowly, trying to take comfort in their certainty. Still, a kernel of worry remains. If Heath survived, she knows who exposed her operation. Won’t she want revenge?
As we turn onto the familiar private road where the house stands, my heart rate quickens. Through the bonds, I feel answering tension from each of them—alertness from Jax, watchfulness from Ren, steady readiness from Stone, and nervous anticipation from Finn.
The house comes into view. From the outside, it looks exactly as I remember it. Untouched. Peaceful.
No police cars. No waiting ambush. Just…home.
Jax pulls into the drive, putting the SUV in park before turning to look at all of us. “Ready?” he asks, though his gaze lingers on me.
I take a deep breath and nod. “Ready.”
We exit the vehicle one by one, Stone keeping a protective hand at the small of my back as we approach the front door. Jax disarms the security system with a code I don’t recognize—new, I’m guessing.
The door swings open to reveal the familiar entryway. Everything looks the same—the hardwood floors gleaming, the pictures on the walls undisturbed, even the bowl on the side table where they toss their keys exactly where it’s supposed to be.
And yet, something feels different. An intangible shift in the atmosphere…or maybe my own changed perception after everything that happened in the past week.
Finn hesitates at the threshold, his expression suddenly distant. I recognize the look. It’s one that takes over my features when I’m stuck in some nightmare. Which one Finn is currently stuck in, I’m not sure.
Without thinking, I reach for his hand, lacing my fingers through his. “Hey,” I say softly, drawing his attention back to me. “Let’s go in together, okay?”
He blinks, focusing on my face with visible effort. “Hailey?—”
“This is still our home,” I tell him, surprising myself with the conviction in my voice. “They don’t get to take that from us, too.”
Something shifts in his expression—surprise, then a flicker of gratitude. He squeezes my hand and nods. “You’re right. Our home.”
Together, we step inside, the others following behind us. The familiar scents of the house envelop me. My gaze sweeps the living room, taking in the comfortable furniture, the large windows letting in afternoon light, the bookshelves lined with books I can’t wait to read.
And there, propped against the couch, something unexpected—Jax’s guitar, dusty but out of its case. I pause, startled by the sight. In all the time I’ve been here, I’ve never seen him play. When did he take it out? That night before we left for the gala? Had he been planning to play for us afterward?
I don’t comment on it. Instead, I move further into the room, trailing my fingers over the back of the couch, reacquainting myself with a space that feels both familiar and foreign.
“I’ll make some coffee,” Stone says, heading toward the kitchen.
“I’ll help,” Ren adds, following him.
Jax pauses beside me, his hand brushing mine, the brief contact sending warmth right through me. “Take your time,” he says softly. “Reorient yourself.”
I nod, grateful for his understanding. As he moves away to help with the coffee, I wander the living room with Finn trailing close behind. He’s releasing it, too. The anxiety. We touch objects, fingers trailing over surfaces as we absorb the sense of pack and home that permeates everything.
That’s when a sharp knock at the door makes me jump.
Jax and Ren move with alarming speed, positioning themselves between the door and where Finn and I stand. Stone emerges from the kitchen, his expression darkening as he takes up a protective stance nearby.
“Were we expecting anyone?” he asks, voice low.
Finn shakes his head, moving closer to me, his hand finding mine again.
My heart is pounding in my chest, the sudden surge of fear surprising in its intensity. I thought I was doing better, thought I was processing what happened, but the sound of a simple knock has me shaking, phantom hands grabbing at me, phantom voices calling?—
“It’s okay,” Jax murmurs, catching my gaze, grounding me. “Probably just a delivery.”
Ren beats him to the door, checking the peephole before his posture relaxes slightly. He opens the door just enough to see who’s there, his body still blocking the entrance.
“Can I help you?” he asks, but there’s nothing friendly in his tone.
“Delivery for Jax Ironwood?” a young male voice replies. “Need a signature.”
Ren opens the door wider, revealing a delivery man in a brown uniform standing in front of a box almost as tall as he is and twice as wide. An electronic signature pad is in his hand. The poor beta takes one look at Ren’s still-bruised face and imposing stance and visibly swallows.
“Um, signature?” he squeaks, holding out the pad with a trembling hand.
Jax steps forward, placing a calming hand on Ren’s shoulder as he moves past him. “I’ll sign,” he says, taking the pad and scrawling his name.
The delivery man hands over the large box, looking relieved to be completing the transaction without incident. “Have a good day,” he mumbles before turning to leave with a speed that borders on comical.
As Jax closes the door, we all let out a collective breath.
“Sorry,” Ren says, running a hand through his hair. “I’m still a bit…on edge.”
“We all are,” Jax assures him, pulling the box into the hallway. “It’s going to take time.”
Finn moves closer to the package, curiosity evident in his expression. “What is this?”
“Just some things for the house,” Jax says vaguely, a hint of something like awkwardness in his tone. “Coffee first, then I’ll show you.”
The moment passes, tension gradually easing as we settle into the familiar routine of being home. Stone brings out mugs of coffee. Turns out, I like mine with a splash of milk and honey. Finn likes his heavy on cream and sugar. Jax takes his with just a touch of cinnamon, and Ren likes his black.
Stone’s fingers brush mine as he hands over the coffee, his touch lingering. I can almost feel his concern, his desire to comfort, his uncertainty about how to do so. I lean slightly into his solid presence, offering him a warm smile.
“Thank you,” I murmur, accepting the mug and letting its warmth seep into my hands.
We gather in the living room, finding our places with the natural choreography of a pack that knows each other well. Jax takes the armchair, Ren perches on its arm, Stone and Finn settle on opposite ends of the couch, and I tuck myself between them, drawing comfort from their proximity.
For a while, we just sit, drinking coffee and re-acclimating to the house. No one mentions Heath or Caldwell or the nightmare of the past week. It feels like a deliberate choice, a collective decision to focus on reclaiming normalcy before confronting what lies ahead.
Eventually, Jax sets his mug down and stands, jerking his chin at the delivered package. “I should get this upstairs,” he says, an odd note in his voice I can’t quite decipher.
Stone and Ren exchange a glance I don’t understand before rising as well. “We’ll help,” Stone says.
Finn catches my eye, his brow furrowing slightly in confusion that matches my own. “What’s in the box?” he asks again.
“Just some things we ordered,” Jax answers, still being frustratingly vague. “For the house.”
Something about the way he says it, the way the three alphas seem suddenly awkward, raises a flag in my mind. They’re hiding something. After all their promises of honesty, of no more secrets, they’re keeping something from us.
“Why don’t you two stay down here?” Ren suggests, his tone carefully casual. “Rest a bit. We’ll be back down soon.”
Before I can protest, they’re moving toward the stairs, the large box balanced between them. I watch them go, a sinking feeling in my stomach. Are we already back to this? Back to the tension and the heartache?
“What do you think they’re up to?” I whisper to Finn once they’ve disappeared upstairs.
He shrugs, but I can see the worry in his eyes. “No idea. But I don’t like being left out of whatever it is.”
I chew my lower lip, debating whether to follow them or give them the benefit of the doubt. “They promised,” I say finally. “No more secrets, right? We’re supposed to be a pack now. Share everything.”
Finn sighs, leaning back against the couch. “Old habits die hard, I guess.”
His resignation makes my heart ache. After everything we’ve been through, after the strides we made at the cabin toward true pack harmony, Finn doesn’t deserve this.
“Maybe it’s nothing,” I offer, trying to convince myself as much as him. “Maybe they really did just order something for the house.”
“Maybe,” he agrees, though he doesn’t sound convinced.
There’s a sadness in his eyes as he turns on the television, flipping through channels until he finds a reality show he enjoys. I settle against him, trying to focus on the program rather than the muffled sounds of movement upstairs.
Twenty minutes pass, then thirty, then nearly an hour. Just as I’m about to go upstairs and demand to know what they’re doing, Jax calls from the top of the stairs.
“Finn? Hailey?” I frown at the unfamiliar note of excitement in his voice. “Can you come up here for a minute?”
Finn and I exchange glances before standing. “Should we be worried?” he asks under his breath as we approach the stairs.
“I guess we’ll find out,” I murmur back.
Jax meets us halfway up, his expression shifting between eagerness and nervousness in a way I’ve never seen before. “Close your eyes,” he says. “Both of you.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Why?”
“Just trust me.” He grins. “Please?”
After a moment’s hesitation, I comply, closing my eyes. Beside me, Finn does the same.
“Good,” Jax says. “Now, no peeking.”
I feel his warm hand close over my eyes just before Finn lets out a surprised yelp when he does the same to him. An extra layer of security against cheating, I suppose.
“What’s going on?”
“Patience,” he chides gently, the smile evident in his tone.
A door opens, and Jax guides us forward a few more steps before stopping.
“Ready?” he asks, his breath warm against my ear.
“Yes,” Finn and I say in unison.
“Okay. Three, two, one…”
The hands covering our eyes fall away, and I blink, adjusting to the light as I take in the sight before me.
We’re standing in the nest room, but it’s…transformed.
The nest has been completely redesigned. Plush new pillows in varying sizes form a perfect circle around the perimeter, each one covered in soft-looking fabric in calming shades of pastel pink, purple, and warm neutrals. Thick blankets are layered throughout. I spot a luxurious-looking faux fur throw, several knitted afghans, and what appears to be a handmade quilt with detailed patterning.
The walls now feature framed artwork—Ren’s paintings, I realize with a start. Beautiful renderings of landscapes, of abstract patterns, and most strikingly, ones of each of them. There’s Finn laughing, his head thrown back; Stone smiling at the sky with a bird on his shoulder; Jax with his guitar.
Small, thoughtful touches are everywhere—fairy lights strung around the perimeter, casting a warm glow; the bookshelf has been restocked with new novels; and a speaker system nearby plays calming music.
It’s perfect. Absolutely perfect. The kind of nest that omega dreams are made of. But right now, all I can think about is how Finn’s hands shake as he reaches for and lifts a pillow.
“Holy shit.” Finn steps closer, clutching the pillow too tight. “You guys actually...?”
His voice cracks. That’s when I see it. The way his hands tremble just slightly as he picks up one of Ren’s smaller paintings. A dark forest scene I recognize instantly—Stone’s secluded cabin where we first properly met, the trees rendered in perfect shadowy detail.
Jax rubs the back of his neck. “Been planning this the last few nights while you two were asleep.”
Finn’s grip whitens. For a second, I think he might hurl the pillow at someone’s head. Then he buries his face in it instead.
Stone catches my eye and jerks his chin toward the nest’s center. A bowl of berries sits there, still dewy from rinsing. My stomach growls.
“Eat,” he says.
I pop a berry in my mouth. Too sweet. Perfect. “You remembered.”
“Hard to forget.” Stone crosses his arms awkwardly. “It was one of the first things you freely ate. One of the first times you started opening up to us. Letting us in.”
The sweetness of the berry on my tongue means so much more than a simple gift.
“You assholes,” Finn whispers, discreetly wiping away what looks like a tear.
Jax’s grin could power the sun. “Mission accomplished.”
Finn wipes his eyes again, a small laugh in his throat that doesn’t disguise the teasing tone in his voice. “You idiots finally learned how to fluff pillows.”
Stone’s lips twitch. “We practiced,” he deadpans.
The unexpected response startles a laugh out of Finn—a genuine, full-bodied laugh that I haven’t heard since before the gala. The sound breaks something open in the room.
“Do you like it?” Ren asks, uncertainty in his voice as he looks between Finn and me.
“It’s like a palace,” I whisper, using one hand to smooth over a cushion so smooth I want to rub it against my skin. “I love it.”
“Ren, it’s…it’s perfect.” Finn hugs the pillow tighter.
“Really?” Jax presses, as if he needs to be sure.
I nod, moving to hug him impulsively. “Really. I can’t believe you did all this.”
His arms come around me, strong and secure. “You’re our omegas,” he says simply, as if that explains everything. And in a way, I suppose it does.
One by one, I hug them all. Stone’s embrace is enveloping, Ren’s tentative but warming as I lean into him, Finn’s familiar and comforting. There are tears in my eyes by the time I finish, but they’re good tears.
“Can we test it out?” I ask, eyeing the nest.
“It’s yours,” Stone says. “Use it however you want.”
Finn doesn’t need to be told twice. He belly-flops into the nest. “Get in here before I claim all the good spots.”
I laugh before joining him. The nest feels even better than it looks—the perfect balance of firm support and yielding softness beneath me. I sink into it with a contented sigh that’s almost embarrassingly sensual.
“Oh my god,” I breathe. “This is amazing.”
The alphas exchange pleased glances before climbing in. Jax settles behind me, his chest warm against my back. Stone positions himself on Finn’s other side, while Ren stretches out at the foot of the nest, his long legs crossed at the ankle.
For a long while, we just exist together in this space, talking quietly about nothing important, occasionally adjusting our positions but always maintaining some point of contact.
When evening falls, we order takeout and eat it in the nest, laughing as Finn tries to enforce a strict “no crumbs” policy that’s immediately violated by Ren, leading to a mock wrestling match that has us all in stitches. Later, we watch a movie on the large screen opposite the nest, all of us piled together in a comfortable tangle of limbs.
It’s the most normal I’ve felt since the gala. I could almost forget it all happened. And as night falls properly, and one by one, we fall asleep, it feels like the most natural thing in the world to find my place in the center, surrounded by the protective circle of my mates.
Sleep comes easily, cradled in their warmth, their scents surrounding me. But the darkness doesn’t stay peaceful.
I don’t know how long I’ve been asleep when the nightmare takes hold—images of Heath’s cold smile, of Caldwell’s hands, of needles and restraints and the helpless panic of being drugged into compliance. In the dream, I’m running, but my limbs are too heavy, my mind too foggy to escape.
I wake with a strangled gasp, heart pounding, sweat cooling on my skin. For a disorienting moment, I don’t know where I am, don’t recognize the shadows around me.
“Hailey.”
Ren’s voice, quiet but alert. I turn to find him watching me, propped up on one elbow, ice-blue eyes reflecting the faint moonlight filtering through the window. The others still sleep, undisturbed by my silent panic.
“Nightmare?” he asks, though it’s barely a question.
I nod, not trusting my voice just yet.
He shifts closer, careful not to wake the others. “Want to talk about it?”
I consider the offer, the dream’s images still vivid in my mind. “I was running,” I say finally, my voice barely a whisper. “But I couldn’t get away. I wasn’t…I wasn’t strong enough.”
Ren doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. Instead, the moment I reach for him, he pulls me into his arms, cradling me there. I snuggle into him, pressing my face into his skin.
“Teach me,” I say suddenly, the words forming before I’ve fully processed the thought. “Teach me to defend myself.”
He studies me for a long moment, his expression unreadable in the dim light. “Are you sure?”
“I won’t be helpless again.” Conviction strengthens my voice. “I can’t be.”
He nods slowly, something like respect flickering in his gaze. “Okay.”
“Okay?” I echo, a little surprised by his easy agreement.
“Okay, I’ll teach you,” he clarifies. “Not just me—all of us will. Different skills, different approaches.”
Relief floods through me, followed by determination. “When can we start?”
A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Eager, aren’t you?”
My voice comes out small. Hesitant. “Wouldn’t you be?”
His smile fades, replaced by a seriousness that reminds me of all he’s been through, all he’s survived. “Yes,” he says simply. “I was.”
I reach for his hand in the darkness, finding it resting on the blanket between us. “I’m not trying to become some kind of warrior,” I whisper, wanting him to understand. “I just need to know that if something like this ever happens again, I’ll have options, you know. I’ll have a chance.”
He turns his hand, lacing his fingers through mine. “I understand,” he assures me. “Better than most. And I think it’s a good idea.”
“You do?”
He nods. “It’s not just about the physical skills. It’s about confidence. About knowing your own strength.” His thumb traces circles on the back of my hand. “That knowledge changes how you move through the world. Makes you less of a target.”
I hadn’t thought of it that way, but he’s right. Part of what made me vulnerable was my own uncertainty.
“We’ll start tomorrow,” he promises. “Nothing too intense at first. Basics. Awareness. How to break common holds.”
“Thank you,” I say, squeezing his hand.
He squeezes back, arms circling me again. I shift in his hold, enjoying the sensation of him. I like being in his arms. Ren feels…good. Safe. But…even as he holds me, Ren feels…distant. As if a part of him is still set rigidly away from me. He holds me like I’m something fragile and yet…it’s almost like…he’s claimed me but can’t bear to keep me. I don’t know what to think of it. Maybe I’m just being paranoid. I try to push the thoughts away and focus on the fact we are here, safe, together.
After a while, he speaks again, his voice so soft I have to strain to hear it. I notice his arms around me feel tense, not quite relaxed like they were during my heat. He’s holding me, but there’s a careful distance in how he touches. Like he’s given his claim but is afraid to fully embrace what that means.
“The nightmares…they don’t go away entirely. But they get better. Less frequent. Less powerful.”
I turn to look at him, finding unexpected vulnerability in his expression. “You’ve had them?”
His throat moves before he gives me a slight nod.
“How long did it take? For yours?”
He considers the question. “Years,” he admits. “But I was dealing with them alone. You won’t be.”
The simple statement brings tears to my eyes. Because I know it’s true. Whatever comes next, I won’t face it alone. I have them. All of them.
“Try to sleep,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to my brow. “I’ll keep watch for a while.”
“Okay,” I agree, settling back against the pillows. “But wake me if you get tired. We can take shifts.”
He smiles, a real one this time, small but genuine. “Deal.”
As I drift back toward sleep, safe in the knowledge that Ren is watching over us, that Jax and Stone and Finn are all within arm’s reach, I realize something important.
I’m going to reclaim this.
I’m going to reclaim myself. My power.