30. Finn
Chapter 30
Finn
W atching Jax play again after so long feels like witnessing a small miracle. A return of something precious I’d feared was permanently lost.
As the final notes of his impromptu concert fade, a peaceful quiet settles over the room.
Jax sets his guitar aside carefully, his expression softer than I’ve seen in ages. When he turns to Hailey, cupping her face with one hand, the tenderness in the gesture makes my heart swell.
“Sorry about freaking out earlier, darling,” he says, voice pitched low and gentle.
A delicate blush rises on Hailey’s cheeks. “It’s okay. I’m not mad at you.”
Jax leans in to press a brief, sweet kiss to her lips before shifting his attention to me where I sit at her feet. He bends down, pressing his forehead against mine in a moment that makes my breath halt in my chest.
“Sorry for—” he begins, but I can’t help interrupting.
“Freaking out earlier?” I finish for him, a teasing smile playing at my lips.
Jax snorts. “Yeah.”
“Apology accepted, alpha.”
Something shifts in Jax’s expression at the word—his eyes darkening with sudden intensity that makes me swallow hard. Then his mouth crashes into mine, all hunger and possessive tongue. I gasp into the kiss as his hands fist in my sweater, pulling it over my head in one fluid motion.
“Fuck,” I pant as his lips trail down my throat, sucking marks into my skin. His teeth scrape my collarbone while his palms slide down my chest, fingers brushing over my nipples. I arch off the couch with a whine.
Across the room, Stone and Ren descend on Hailey. Stone pins her to the couch, swallowing her moans as Ren pulls her top upward. His mouth closes over one peaked nipple while Stone sinks between her thighs, pushing her knees apart as he tugs her pants down and spreads her open.
“Look at them,” Jax murmurs against my stomach, nipping the soft skin below my navel. His fingers make quick work of my bottoms. “Look how pretty our girl is when she comes apart.”
I do look—just in time to see Ren slide two fingers into Hailey while Stone’s tongue circles her clit. Her back bows off the chair, her cry shattering the air as the first orgasm rips through her.
Then Jax’s mouth is on me, hot and wet and perfect. I choke on air as he takes me deep, his throat working around me. His fingers dig bruises into my hips, holding me still as he sucks hard—once, twice—before pulling off with a filthy pop.
“Jax—”
The pleasure is overwhelming. Time ceases to exist, only feeling.
Pleasure cracks down my spine as I spill across his tongue. He swallows every drop, eyes locked on mine until I’m trembling and oversensitive.
By the time I blink back to awareness, Hailey’s slumped bonelessly on the couch and Ren is licking his fingers clean with a satisfied smirk. The alphas move in quiet coordination—lifting us onto the couch, tucking blankets around our spent bodies.
Jax presses a kiss to Hailey’s damp forehead, then mine. “Now that we’ve already eaten,” he murmurs, lips curling at his joke, “it’s time to feed you.”
Stone snorts as they retreat toward the kitchen, leaving us wrapped in warmth and the scent of satisfied pack.
The days following Hailey’s press conference pass in a whirlwind of media attention and public outrage. What began as one omega’s testimony has exploded into a nationwide reckoning, a tidal wave of revelations that shows no signs of abating.
Every morning brings new headlines, each more damning than the last. “OMEGA TRAFFICKING RING LINKED TO SUPREME COURT JUSTICE.” “POLICE CHIEF RESIGNS AMID CORRUPTION ALLEGATIONS.” “MAYOR CAUGHT IN HEATH SCANDAL DENIES INVOLVEMENT, EVIDENCE SUGGESTS OTHERWISE.”
The momentum is staggering, almost unbelievable. Omegas are coming forward with their own stories, emboldened by Hailey’s courage. Protests have erupted in major cities, demanding justice for trafficking victims and sweeping reforms to omega protection laws. News channels run wall-to-wall coverage, political commentators debate the far-reaching implications, social media overflows with hashtags and calls to action.
And at the center of it all, though she remains safely hidden away in our home, is Hailey.
Her face appears regularly on television screens—carefully selected footage from her press conference, her composed voice describing horrors that leave even hardened journalists silent. Her words have become a rallying cry, her courage a catalyst for change that none of us could have anticipated.
My Hailey.
“It’s incredible,” Stone remarks one evening as we watch yet another news segment about high-profile resignations linked to Heath’s network. “One person’s testimony, and the whole system starts to crumble.”
“Not just any testimony,” I point out, glancing toward Hailey, who sits curled against Jax’s side, watching the coverage with an expression of cautious satisfaction. “Hers.”
The security around our property has been tightened further—not because of threats from Heath’s diminishing network, but to keep out the persistent journalists who congregate at our gates, hoping for a follow-up interview or even just a photograph of Hailey going about her day. The local police have assigned a patrol car to maintain a presence outside our property for Hailey’s protection and to manage the media circus.
Hailey has declined all interview requests, despite increasingly lucrative offers. Her humility in the face of what she’s accomplished only makes me love her more.
Today marks a week since the press conference, and I’m awakened from an afternoon nap in our nest by the subtle shift of weight beside me. I blink sleep from my eyes to find Hailey awake, sitting cross-legged, her attention fixed on the screen opposite the nest.
She’s pulled up a news feed—live coverage of what appears to be the largest protest yet, thousands of people filling the streets, many carrying signs with Hailey’s image or quotes from her testimony. The volume is low, but I can make out the reporter’s excited voice describing the unprecedented turnout, the diversity of the crowd, the intensity of public demand for accountability.
“Hey,” I murmur, my voice rough with sleep. “How long have you been watching?”
She glances down at me, a small smile playing at her lips. “About an hour. I didn’t want to wake you.”
I shift to sit up beside her, taking in the footage with a mixture of awe and satisfaction. “It’s really happening, isn’t it? Everything you hoped would come from speaking out.”
“More than I hoped,” she whispers. “I thought maybe a few other omegas might come forward, that there might be some additional pressure on Heath. I never imagined…this.”
On screen, the feed cuts to breaking news—the Venezuelan government has just announced cooperation with U.S. authorities regarding the possible extradition of Veyra Heath, whose whereabouts within their borders have been confirmed by intelligence sources. The reporter can barely contain his excitement as he relays the details—international pressure, diplomatic negotiations, the likelihood of Heath facing justice in American courts within weeks rather than months.
“We won,” I say softly, the realization hitting me with sudden clarity. “ You won.”
Hailey’s eyes widen slightly, as if she, too, is only now fully comprehending the magnitude of what’s been achieved. “She can’t escape this, can she? Not with the whole world watching. Not with so many powerful people already implicated.”
“No,” I agree, reaching to take her hand in mine. “There’s nowhere left for her to hide. No one left who can protect her without destroying themselves in the process.”
Something seems to release in Hailey at my words—a tension she’s carried for so long that neither of us fully recognized its presence until it began to fade. Her shoulders drop, her breath comes easier, a light returns to her eyes that has nothing to do with the screen’s illumination.
“Come on,” she says suddenly, tugging at my hand. “Let’s go downstairs. I want to tell the others.”
We dress quickly—Hailey in a soft blue sweater and leggings, me in a worn t-shirt and sweatpants—and head downstairs hand in hand. The main floor is quiet as we descend, no sounds from the kitchen or living room to indicate where the alphas might be.
“Maybe they went out?” she suggests, turning toward the living room.
We’re halfway across the threshold when I notice him—Ren, seated motionless on the far end of the sofa, shoulders hunched, gaze fixed on something unseen. His stillness is so complete, his presence so subdued, that we nearly missed him entirely.
Something is wrong. Deeply, fundamentally wrong.
I’m moving before conscious thought engages, instinct drawing me to his side, dropping to my knees before him to try to catch his gaze. His eyes are distant, unfocused, the usual arctic blue dulled to something flat and lifeless.
“Ren?” I reach for his hands, which lie limp in his lap. “Ren, what’s happened? What’s wrong?”
He doesn’t respond immediately, doesn’t seem to register my presence until my fingers curl around his. Then his gaze shifts, focusing on me with effort, recognition dawning slowly in his expression.
“Finn,” he says, my name emerging as little more than a whisper.
Behind me, I hear Hailey approach, her scent sharpening with concern. “Ren? Are you okay?”
Instead of answering, he leans forward suddenly, wrapping his arms around me in an embrace so tight it borders on desperate.
My anxiety spikes, heart rate accelerating as worst-case scenarios cascade through my mind. Someone is hurt. Someone is dead. Heath has made a move against us. The press has discovered something damaging. The FBI has found evidence implicating one of us in something illegal.
“Ren, you’re scaring me,” I manage, my voice muffled against his chest. “Please, tell us what’s wrong.”
He exhales. It’s shaky, his breath warm against my hair, his arms still locked around me as if I might disappear if he releases his grip. When he finally speaks, the words are so unexpected that for a moment I think I’ve misheard.
“It’s Father. He wants…he wants a meeting.”
I pull back just enough to see his face, searching his expression for some clue to help me process this bombshell. “Your father wants to meet with you?”
Ren nods, his eyes still holding that unsettling emptiness. “His lawyer contacted me an hour ago. He…wants to talk.”
“Talk?” Hailey echoes, sinking onto the couch beside Ren. “What does that mean?”
“Sooner or later, someone from the network will rat them out.” Ren’s voice remains hollow, detached, as if he’s reciting facts about a stranger. “The only reason they haven’t been arrested yet is because of me.”
My mind races to make sense of this development. “Because you destroyed everything, got them cut out of the network.”
Ren nods, swallowing hard.
“Do you want to see him?” I whisper.
Ren’s gaze shifts to me. “I don’t know,” he admits after a moment. “I haven’t seen him since…since that night when I returned drunk and a monster. But if I do see him…maybe he’ll talk.”
“You don’t have to decide right now.” My hand finds his again. “And whatever you decide, we’ll support you.”
“Hey,” Hailey whispers, shifting closer on the couch, her hand coming to rest on Ren’s arm. “If your father has evidence against Heath, he’ll provide it regardless of whether you agree to see him, right? That’s his moral obligation as a human being.”
“Hailey’s right,” I agree, squeezing his hand. “His cooperation shouldn’t rely on his access to you. That’s not a fair exchange to demand.”
A hint of Ren’s usual sardonic expression returns. “Fairness has never been Father’s strong suit.”
Ren releases a breath, reaching to pull both me and Hailey into his arms.
“Hey,” he says, “cheer up. I’m not a good alpha if I make my omegas sad.”
A soft smile graces my lips. “You wouldn’t be a good alpha if we didn’t care to be sad when we see you hurting.”
He tugs us closer, causing Hailey to push back against him playfully.
“Too tight,” she chuckles.
Ren laughs, the shadow that was settling over him slowly dissipating. “What would I do without you guys, huh?”
“Nothing, that’s what.” I stick my tongue out and he leans in immediately, ready to suck on it. I laugh.
“You’re damn right about that.”