31. Ren
Chapter 31
Ren
T he wrought iron gates still gleam, the sight of them increasing the tension headache building behind my eyes. I should have had a drink before we left. Maybe then my hands wouldn’t feel like they might shake apart the steering wheel I’m gripping. But drinking is what almost made me hurt Hailey, so it’s a strict ‘no’ for me now.
“We can still turn around,” Finn says quietly from the passenger seat beside me, his scent warm with concern. “No one would blame you.”
I shake my head, forcing myself to ease my death grip as we pass through the gates that once symbolized everything I was trying to escape. “No. I need to do this.”
The familiar driveway winds ahead, bordered by meticulously manicured gardens where not a single flower dares bloom out of place. The estate hasn’t changed—still a monument to control and perfection, still designed to intimidate and impress. Just like Father.
Behind me, Jax sits with Hailey in the middle and Stone on the other side. Their presence steadies me in ways I never would have imagined possible a few years ago. The pack—my pack—here to support me through what might be the most difficult conversation of my life.
The house looms ahead, all gleaming windows and pristine white stone. I try to view it objectively, as if I’m seeing it for the first time rather than returning to the site of so many complicated memories. It’s beautiful, I suppose. Impressive, certainly. The kind of home featured in architectural magazines and society pages. Cold as a fucking mausoleum.
I park in the circular driveway, cutting the engine and sitting motionless for a moment. Finn doesn’t rush me, doesn’t pepper me with questions or reassurances. He just waits, a steady presence that anchors me to the present when memories threaten to drag me into the past.
“Let’s get this over with,” I finally say, pushing open my door before I can change my mind.
The others exit the vehicle, gathering around me in a loose formation that feels protective. Jax catches my eye, a silent question in his gaze. I nod once, confirming that I’m ready—as ready as I’ll ever be—to face what waits inside.
The walk to the front door feels surreal, like treading through someone else’s dream. Five steps up to the stone landing. The same brass knocker gleaming in the afternoon sun. I bypass it in favor of the doorbell, perversely wanting to hear that ridiculous chime one more time.
The Westminster melody echoes through marble halls. I used to mockingly hum it as a teenager, another small rebellion in a childhood filled with them.
We wait, the silence stretching uncomfortably until I hear approaching footsteps—lighter than I expected, not the heavy tread of Father or Dad. A feminine gait, quick and purposeful.
When the door opens, I’m suddenly grateful for Finn’s steadying presence at my side, for Hailey’s gentle hand against my back, for Jax and Stone’s solid reliability flanking us. Because, despite everything I’ve told myself about being prepared, about having moved on, the sight of my mother hits me like a punch I didn’t see coming.
“Ren,” she says, her voice still that perfect blend of refinement and warmth that she could turn on and off like a switch. Then her gaze shifts, taking in the group behind me, confusion momentarily breaking through her composed facade. “I…we weren’t expecting visitors.”
“Hello, Mother,” I reply. “I need to speak with Father. Is he home?”
She hesitates, her eyes darting between my face and the four people standing with me. I can almost see the calculations running behind her carefully neutral expression.
“Of course,” she finally says, stepping back to open the door wider. “Please, come in. All of you,” she adds, though I detect the faintest note of reluctance.
We enter the marble foyer, and I’m immediately assaulted by memories. The massive crystal chandelier where I once tied a balloon filled with red food coloring, horrifying Mother during a dinner party when it burst. The curved staircase I tumbled down at eight, breaking my arm and earning Father’s lecture about appropriate behavior rather than sympathy. The alcove where I hid the day I presented as alpha, overwhelmed by new instincts and terrified of disappointing them all once again.
“These are my packmates,” I explain, forcing myself back to the present. “If you remember. Jax Ironwood, our alpha. Stone. Finn and Hailey.”
Mother’s expression shifts subtly at the introductions, recognition flickering in her eyes when her gaze lands on Hailey. “The omega from the news,” she says softly. “The one who testified about Veyra Heath.”
Hailey meets her gaze steadily. “Yes.”
Something complex passes across Mother’s features—concern, calculation, and perhaps a flicker of genuine admiration. “That was very brave,” she says after a moment, sounding almost sincere. “And effective…it seems.”
Her response just reminds me they, my parents, are the exact snakes that Hailey has fought to put down. “Where’s Father?” I interrupt, not wanting to get sidetracked. “And Dad?”
“Your father is in his study,” she replies, smoothly resuming her role as household manager. “Your Dad is at the clinic today. He’ll be sorry to have missed you.” She glances again at my companions. “Shall I show your…friends to the sitting room while you speak with your father?”
“No,” I say firmly. “They’re coming with me.”
Her eyebrows lift slightly, the only outward sign of her surprise. “Very well. Follow me.”
She leads us through the house, her posture impeccable as always. The halls are lined with the same artwork I remember—expensive, tasteful, and utterly without personality. Not one of them is mine.
We pause outside the heavy oak door of Father’s study, his sanctum that I was only permitted to enter by specific invitation. Mother turns to face us, her expression carefully composed.
“He’s been…under significant strain,” she says quietly. “With the investigation, the legal proceedings. I’m sure you understand.” Her gaze meets mine, and for an instant, I glimpse something like hope in her eyes. “He’s not the man you remember, Ren.”
“I haven’t been the son you remember for a very long time,” I reply.
A flicker of something—pain? Resignation?—crosses her features before she nods once. She knocks twice on the study door.
“Darling,” she calls. “We have visitors. Ren is here.”
There’s a moment of silence, then a familiar voice responds—colder and more subdued than the commanding presence I remember, but unmistakably Father. “Send him in.”
Mother opens the door without further comment, gesturing for us to enter. She doesn’t follow, instead retreating with a quiet, “I’ll bring tea,” that feels like an escape rather than hospitality.
The study is exactly as I remember—dark wood paneling, leather-bound books lining built-in shelves, the massive desk positioned to maximize the psychological advantage over anyone entering the room. But the man behind that desk is nearly unrecognizable.
Father has aged a decade since I last saw him. His once-commanding presence seems diminished, his shoulders slightly stooped, his previously immaculate appearance marred by subtle signs of neglect—hair a touch too long, shirt cuffs fraying slightly. Only his eyes remain unchanged, that same icy blue I see in the mirror every morning, calculating and sharp as they assess our group.
“Ren,” he says, rising to his feet. “This is an unexpected development.” His gaze tracks over my pack, assessing and dismissive in equal measure. “And you’ve brought…company.”
“My pack,” I correct him firmly.
He gestures to the seating arrangement before his desk. “Please, sit.”
I remain standing, and my pack follows my lead. “I received your message. Through your lawyer.”
“Ah.” He nods. “Yes. I thought perhaps a direct conversation might be more productive than continued silence, given the circumstances.”
“The circumstances,” I repeat, unable to keep a hint of bitterness from my voice. “You mean the collapse of Heath’s network, the prospect of spending the rest of your life in prison for trafficking omegas?”
Father’s expression doesn’t change, but I detect a slight stiffening in his posture. “The legal situation is complex and not as straightforward as the media portrays. My involvement with Heath’s organization was strictly medical and advisory.”
“Bullshit,” I snap. Fuck the carefully maintained control I’d promised myself. “You knew exactly what you were doing. I saw what you were doing with my own eyes.”
“I developed innovative medical treatments for designation-specific conditions,” he counters smoothly. “How others applied those treatments is hardly my responsibility.”
Beside me, I feel Hailey tense, her scent sharpening with anger. Finn shifts slightly closer to me, a subtle reminder of support and grounding. Stone and Jax remain watchful, their presence solid. Strong.
“We both know that’s not true,” I say, forcing my voice to remain steady. “But I didn’t come here to debate your guilt or innocence. The courts will handle that.”
“Then why did you come?” Father asks, arching one brow in that familiar expression of condescending curiosity that once made me want to put my fist through a wall. “Surely not for a tender family reunion.”
“I came because your lawyer said you had information about the remaining parts of Heath’s network. Information you’d only share with me, personally.” I meet his gaze directly, refusing to be the first to look away. “So here I am. What information do you have?”
Father studies me for a long moment, then gestures again toward the chairs. “At least sit down. This may take some time.”
After a moment’s hesitation, I acquiesce, choosing the chair directly across from his desk. Finn and Hailey take seats on either side of me, while Jax and Stone remain standing, positioned like sentinels behind us.
Father resumes his seat, hands folded neatly on the polished surface of his desk. “The situation is this,” he begins, slipping into the clinical tone he used for medical consultations. “Heath’s network is more extensive than the authorities have yet discovered. There are facilities still operating in three countries, moving omegas through channels that haven’t been compromised.”
“And you know this how?” Jax interjects, his voice deceptively calm.
Father’s gaze shifts to him, reassessing. “Because I helped design those facilities, Mr. Ironwood. Just as I designed the one where your omega was temporarily held.”
The casual reference to Hailey’s captivity sends a surge of protective rage through me, but Hailey herself remains composed, her chin lifting slightly as she meets Father’s calculating stare.
“You have names,” I prompt, trying to redirect the conversation. “Locations. Details that could help shut down these remaining operations.”
“I do,” Father confirms. “Information that would be extremely valuable to both the FBI and international authorities. Information that could significantly influence the course of my legal proceedings, if properly leveraged.”
And there it is—the real purpose behind this meeting, the self-interest lurking beneath the facade of cooperation. “You want a deal,” I state flatly. “Reduced charges, lighter sentence, maybe even witness protection.”
“I want considerations appropriate to the value of what I’m offering,” he corrects smoothly.
“Why reach out to me?” I ask. “You disowned me. Made it clear I was a disappointment. Why now?”
Something flickers briefly in Father’s expression before he admits, “Because you have access to the Ashgraves.”
I stare at him, momentarily speechless as the true purpose of this meeting becomes clear. “You want me to use my connection to Riordan to influence your case.”
“I want you to ensure that valuable medical knowledge and expertise isn’t lost to the justice system’s need for scapegoats,” Father counters smoothly. “The work I’ve done—the research, the treatments—has applications far beyond what Heath perverted it for. Applications that could help countless omegas.”
“Applications that could make you very rich, you mean,” Finn says quietly, speaking for the first time since we entered the study.
Father’s gaze shifts to Finn, reassessing him with newfound interest. “The financial aspects are secondary to the medical advancements,” he claims, though I’m sure none of us believe him. “But yes, there is potential for significant value creation.”
“Mother and Dad stood by while you participated in omega trafficking,” I point out, anger rising again. “They benefited from the money and status your work with Heath provided, never asking too many questions about where it came from or what it cost.”
“They were unaware of the specifics of my research applications,” Father insists, a note of steel entering his voice for the first time. “Don’t drag them into this out of lingering adolescent resentment.”
“Adolescent—” I break off, a harsh laugh escaping me before I can stop it. “That’s what you think this is? Some teenage rebellion I never outgrew? Not a moral objection to treating human beings like products to be sold to the highest bidder?”
“Your moral posturing is rather selective,” Father observes coldly. “You had no problem benefiting from family resources throughout your youth. The best schools, the finest opportunities, every advantage we could provide. Only when it came time to contribute, to uphold family legacy and responsibility, did you suddenly develop these…scruples.”
The accusation hits harder than I expected, touching old wounds and doubts I thought I’d long since resolved. Before I can respond, however, Hailey’s voice cuts through the tension like a blade.
“Th-that’s not how morality works,” she says, her tone quiet, her gaze pitched low.
Father’s gaze shifts to her, something like genuine curiosity flickering in his expression. “What do you know of morality?”
“I speak as someone who’s seen firsthand what your ‘research applications’ mean for omegas.” Hailey lifts her head. Looks at him directly. “The dehumanization, the fear, the lasting trauma. That’s the legacy you’re asking Ren to help protect.”
A tense silence falls over the room, broken only when the door opens to admit Mother carrying a silver tea service. She hesitates momentarily, sensing the charged atmosphere, then proceeds to place the tray on a side table with practiced grace.
“Shall I pour?” she asks, her voice light, attempting to diffuse the tension.
“No need, Mother,” I say, rising to my feet. “We won’t be staying.”
Her expression falters slightly, disappointment or relief—I can’t tell which—flickering across her features. “I see. Well, perhaps another time.”
“There won’t be another time,” I tell her, keeping my voice gentle despite the finality of the words. “That’s part of why I came today. To make that clear.”
Father rises from his chair, his height still imposing despite the subtle stooping of age and stress. “You’re refusing to help, then. Choosing strangers over family.”
“ I’m choosing right over wrong ,” I correct him. “And they’re not strangers—they’re my pack . My family , in the ways that actually matter.”
Mother’s gaze flickers over our group, lingering on Finn and Hailey with a complex expression I can’t quite decipher. “Not what we would have chosen for you, but if they bring you happiness…”
“They do,” I confirm, softening slightly at what seems like a genuine, if limited, attempt at understanding. “More than I ever thought possible.”
“Well. That’s something, at least.” She smooths her already immaculate slacks. “Your Dad will be sorry to have missed you. He thinks of you often.”
The mention of Dad brings a pang of complicated emotion. “Tell him…tell him I’m doing well. That I’ve found my place.”
Mother nods, accepting the limited olive branch for what it is. Father, however, remains unmoved, his expression hardening as he recognizes the conversation slipping beyond his control.
“If you won’t help through the Ashgrave connection, at least connect me with them,” he says, hands forming fists at his side. “Their hands aren’t exactly clean. I’m sure we can come to an agreement.”
My eyes go cold as I stare at him. This man who was supposed to love and protect omegas. A slow, deadly smile shifts my lips. “Don’t worry, Father. You don’t need to seek them out. As it turns out, the Ashgraves will be coming to you.”
For a moment, he only blinks at me, and then the look in his eyes change. Confusion shifting to fear. “Ren?—”
“Let’s go.” I turn to my pack, and we start filing out.
“Wait, Ren?—”
Father’s voice chases us down the hall, cracking with something I’ve never heard before—desperation. “Ren! At least let me explain?—”
I don’t turn back.
The front door slams shut behind us with finality, the sound reverberating through my bones. Sunlight hits my face as we stride down the marble steps, but all I feel is the cold, creeping numbness spreading through my chest.
Finn’s hand finds mine, his fingers lacing tight between mine. Silent. Steady.
We reach the car. I fumble with the keys—my hands shaking now that the adrenaline is fading.
Jax takes them wordlessly, brushing his thumb over my knuckles before opening the driver’s side. “I’ve got it.”
I collapse into the passenger seat. The engine roars to life.
And then?—
It hits me like a truck.
A sob tears from my throat before I can choke it back. My vision blurs. All the years of swallowed anger, the choked-down grief for the family I should have had—it floods out in ragged gasps.
The vehicle hasn’t even left the driveway when strong arms yank me into the backseat. Stone’s lap braces my back as Finn curls around my front, his forehead pressed to mine. Jax pulls over, turning in his seat to grip my knee while Hailey strokes my hair with trembling fingers.
No one speaks.
No one tells me to stop or get it together.
They just hold me—Stone’s calloused palm cradling my neck, Finn’s scent wrapping around me like a safety net, Jax’s alpha rumble vibrating through all of us. Hailey presses her lips to my damp temple, her breath hitching like she’s fighting tears of her own.
I cry until my ribs ache. Until the storm inside me dulls to exhausted stillness.
When I finally lift my head, Finn’s lashes are wet. “You’re free,” he whispers.
And God?—
I am.
Hailey
The house is quiet when we return, but the moment the door closes behind us, I feel the air shift. Ren’s pain radiates through our bond like an exposed nerve, sharp and unrelenting. It settles heavy in my chest, a weight I can’t ignore. Before I can second-guess myself, I turn and take his hand.
“Come with me,” I whisper, my voice soft but firm. I don’t wait for his reply, tugging him toward the stairs. My eyes find Finn’s, a silent question passing between us. He nods, understanding immediately, his gaze flicking to Jax and Stone.
“I’ll join you,” Jax murmurs, his hand settling briefly on my lower back as Stone leads Finn toward the kitchen, giving us a moment alone first.
Upstairs, Ren stands in the center of the nest room like a man unmoored, his shoulders stiff, his hands hanging uselessly at his sides. He seems…lost. My heart twists at the sight, and my instincts pull me forward. I approach slowly, not entirely sure what I’m going to do, but knowing that my alpha needs me now, just as I need him.
“Can I touch you?” I ask softly, keeping my voice gentle.
Ren nods once, almost imperceptibly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.
I step closer, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. My fingers find the buttons of his shirt, trembling slightly as I undo them one by one. His breath hitches when my knuckles brush against the bare skin of his chest, and I feel his restraint vibrating through him like a tightly coiled spring. I push the fabric from his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. His skin is warm beneath my touch, the taut lines of his body a testament to the tension he’s carried for far too long.
“Hailey—” His voice cracks, rough and unsteady.
“Shh,” I murmur, pressing a finger to his lips. “Let me take care of you. Please.”
Something in him snaps, the last of his walls crumbling as I guide him backward. His knees hit the edge of the nest, and when he sits, I climb onto his lap, straddling him with my thighs bracketing his hips. My hands find his face, cradling it as if he might break, my thumbs brushing gently over the sharp lines of his cheekbones.
“You don’t have to do this,” he says, even though his hands tighten on my waist.
“I know,” I reply, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. “I want to.”
His hands settle on my hips, tentative at first, then firmer as I deepen the kiss. His lips part beneath mine, and I taste the salt of unshed tears, the bitterness of grief, and the faint, heady flavor of Ren himself. It sparks something low in my belly, a heat that spreads through me like wildfire. I move against him, my hips rocking slightly, and he groans into my mouth, his grip tightening.
The door opens behind us, and I feel the shift in the air as the others enter. The cushions dip under their weight. Finn joins us first, his chest pressing against my back as his hands slide up my sides, his touch familiar and grounding.
“Is this okay?” Finn whispers against my ear, his fingers working the hem of my sweater upward.
“More than okay,” I breathe, lifting my arms so he can pull it over my head. The cool air kisses my skin, followed immediately by Finn’s warm lips trailing down the curve of my neck. I shiver, my head falling back against his shoulder as his hands trace slow, deliberate patterns over my bare stomach.
Ren’s hands glide up to my waist, then higher, his thumbs brushing the underside of my breasts. His eyes, darkened with hunger, track over my exposed skin like he’s committing every inch of me to memory. When his lips find the valley between my breasts, the heat of his mouth sears me, drawing a soft gasp from my throat.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice reverent.
His hands slide up to the clasp of my bra, pausing for permission. I nod, and the garment falls away, baring me completely to his gaze. He leans forward, his tongue flicking over one peaked nipple before drawing it into his mouth. The sensation sends sparks shooting through me, my back arching as a moan escapes me.
“God, I’ll never get tired of hearing that,” Stone’s deep voice rumbles from somewhere to my right.
The bed shifts again as he and Jax join us. Jax kneels beside Ren, his hand brushing over my thigh before sliding up to cup my cheek. He turns my face toward him, capturing my lips in a kiss that’s all heat and dominance, his tongue sweeping into my mouth as Ren’s teeth graze my other nipple.
Behind me, Finn’s hands slip lower, tracing the curve of my hips before dipping between my thighs. His fingers press against the fabric of my leggings, finding the heat and wetness there. “You’re soaked,” he whispers, his breath hot against my ear.
“Yes,” I whimper, my hips rocking into his touch. He chuckles softly, his fingers hooking into the waistband of my leggings and pulling them down, leaving me bare. The cool air against my heated skin makes me shiver, but the sensation is quickly replaced by the warmth of Finn’s hand sliding between my legs, his fingers parting me to find my most sensitive spot.
Ren groans, his hands gripping my hips as he shifts beneath me. “I need her,” he growls, his voice rough with barely restrained need.
Jax pulls back from our kiss, his thumb brushing over my swollen lips. “Take her,” he commands, his voice low and authoritative. “She’s yours.”
Ren doesn’t hesitate. He lifts me slightly, positioning himself at my entrance, and then he’s inside me, filling me with one long, steady thrust that steals the air from my lungs. I cry out, my hands clutching his shoulders as he stills, giving me a moment to adjust to the stretch and fullness.
“Fuck, you feel perfect,” he murmurs, his forehead pressing against mine. His hands slide up my back, holding me close as he begins to move. Thrusts that send waves of pleasure rippling through me.
Behind me, Finn’s fingers continue their gentle exploration, circling my clit in time with Ren’s movements. Jax’s lips find my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there, while Stone’s hands trace over my thighs, his touch both possessive and soothing.
The room is filled with the sounds of our bodies—the soft slap of skin against skin, the low groans and murmured praises of my alphas, the breathless moans they draw from me with every touch, every thrust.
“Look at me,” Ren commands, his voice stronger now, more like himself.
I force my heavy lids open, meeting his gaze. What I see there steals my breath—devotion, gratitude, and a fierce protectiveness that makes my omega instincts sing.
“You saved me,” he says, his rhythm never faltering, his hands tightening on my hips. “First from myself, now from my past.”
“We saved each other,” I manage between gasping breaths, reaching to touch his face. “Th-that’s what pack does.”
His answering smile is like dawn breaking after the longest night. When release finally claims me, it’s his name on my lips, his body anchoring me as pleasure shatters me into countless pieces.
The others follow—Finn against my back, his breath hot against my shoulder as he groans his release; Jax and Stone with low, guttural sounds of satisfaction as they press against me, their hands and mouths never ceasing their worship.
Later, cradled in a tangle of limbs and satisfied warmth, I watch Ren’s sleeping face. The tension has melted away, leaving him looking younger, almost peaceful. I trace the curve of Ren’s jaw with one finger, marveling at how far we’ve all come.
“Thank you,” Ren murmurs, catching my hand and pressing a kiss to my palm without opening his eyes.
I smile, settling closer. “Always.”