33. Hailey
Chapter 33
Hailey
S pring has fully claimed the Ironwood property. The transformation happened so gradually that I almost missed it—winter’s stark landscape softening day by day until suddenly, the world outside our windows burst with color and life. From my spot on the picnic blanket, I can see the garden Stone has been meticulously expanding, the rose bushes finally cooperating after what Finn described as an “epic battle of wills.”
The afternoon is perfect—warm sunshine, cool breeze, and my pack scattered around me in various states of relaxation. Jax and Stone are debating the merits of different grilling techniques as they prepare lunch, their voices carrying across the lawn in comfortable disagreement. Ren stretches out beside me, eyes closed against the sun, though I know he’s not sleeping—just savoring the moment of peace.
Finn sits cross-legged on the other side of our blanket, arranging a plate of sliced fruits into an absurdly intricate pattern. “Stop stealing the strawberries,” he scolds without looking up as I reach for another piece. “You’re destroying my masterpiece.”
“Your masterpiece is meant to be eaten,” I remind him, deliberately selecting a perfectly placed blueberry just to watch his expression of artistic outrage.
“Barbarian,” he mutters, but the corner of his mouth twitches with suppressed amusement. “No appreciation for my culinary aesthetics.”
“I appreciate them in my mouth,” I counter, earning a snort from Ren, who hasn’t bothered to open his eyes.
“Hailey, you shouldn’t say such things. Makes my mind go to other places,” he drawls. “Besides, some of us are trying to enjoy the rare phenomenon of not being in a crisis.”
He has a point. The past months have been a whirlwind of intensity—my rescue and recovery, the press conference, the international manhunt for Heath, the confrontation with Ren’s father. Moments of simple enjoyment like this afternoon have been precious rarities. Islands of calm in a turbulent sea.
The news cycle has continued its relentless coverage of the Heath trafficking network’s dismantling. Each day brings new revelations, new arrests, new pieces of the puzzle falling into place. I’ve been following it all—partly out of the need for closure, partly from a sense of responsibility to the other omegas whose stories connect with mine.
Heath herself remains frustratingly elusive. The promised extradition from Venezuela has stalled amid diplomatic complications and rumors of bribes to local officials. The last confirmed sighting was three weeks ago, then nothing—as if she’d vanished into the network she created.
I should let it go. That’s what my new therapist suggests—focus on healing, on the life I’m building with my pack, on the good we can do for other survivors. Most days, I manage to follow that advice. Today, though, the habit returns as I reach for my phone, scrolling through notifications while the others enjoy the afternoon. Just a quick check, I tell myself. Then I’ll put it away and be present.
“Steaks are almost ready,” Jax calls from the grill, drawing appreciative sounds from everyone except Finn, who maintains his devotion to the fruit plate’s perfection.
“Five more minutes,” he counters without looking up. “True art cannot be rushed.”
“Your art is getting warm in the sun,” Stone observes, approaching with plates and utensils. “And less structurally sound by the minute.”
“Critics everywhere,” Finn sighs dramatically, finally setting aside his tweezers—actual tweezers, which he uses for precise fruit placement, because of course he does. “Fine, I suppose it can be consumed now. But I want everyone to appreciate it visually first.”
I smile at their banter, thumb still absently scrolling through my timeline. Nothing unusual—the same mix of news updates and targeted ads that make up most social media experiences these days. I’m about to set the phone aside when a live video begins auto-playing, the notification indicating it’s trending rapidly.
The face on the screen stops my breath in my throat.
It’s him. Different—haggard, bruised, eyes bloodshot and wild—but unmistakably him. Robert Caldwell. The alpha who bought me.
My body freezes, a rush of ice flooding my veins despite the warm spring sun. Some distant part of my mind registers that I’ve stopped breathing, that my fingers have gone numb around the phone, that my pulse is suddenly pounding in my ears like a trapped animal.
“Hailey?” Finn’s voice seems to come from very far away. “Hailey, what’s wrong?”
I can’t speak, can’t look away from the screen where Caldwell’s mouth moves in disconnected phrases I can barely process. Finn shifts closer, concern radiating from him in waves that break against the sudden wall of shock surrounding me.
“Hailey!” His voice sharpens with alarm as he follows my gaze to the phone. His sharp intake of breath registers distantly as recognition hits. “Oh god. That’s?—”
“What’s happening?” Jax is suddenly there, crouching beside us. “Hailey, talk to me.”
My fingers fumble with the volume control, turning it up just as Caldwell’s slurred voice becomes coherent.
“—All I wanted was to be loved. Is that so much to ask?” His face looms large in the frame, too close to the camera, revealing skin mottled with bruises and several days’ growth of beard. The background is dim, some kind of room with bare walls. “I never bonded with a pack, and that was fine. Who needs a pack, right? Omegas don’t need a pack. They only need to be knotted, and I could do that. I was good at that.”
In an instant, the others are crowded around my phone—Ren abandoning his relaxed pose, Stone setting down the plates, all of them radiating protective concern that I register despite my focus on the screen.
“What the hell is this?” Ren asks, his voice tight with controlled fury as he recognizes Caldwell. “Where is he broadcasting from?”
Before anyone can answer, another voice cuts through the video—female, sharp with irritation and something that might be fear. “What are you talking about, you idiot? Turn that off right now!”
The camera pans, jerky, revealing a woman tied to a chair across what appears to be a small motel room. At first, I don’t recognize her—the disheveled hair, the lack of makeup, the gaunt face aged by stress and fear. Then she speaks again, and there’s no mistaking that voice.
Veyra Heath.
The shock ripples through our group like an electric current. Jax swears under his breath. Ren is already reaching for his phone, fingers flying across the screen as he types what I assume is a message to the Ashgraves.
“It’s all her fault,” Caldwell continues, waving something in his hand as he addresses Heath. The camera angle shifts, revealing a gun gripped unsteadily in his fingers. “Got too greedy. Made this all blow up in our faces. And now I’ve lost everything. EVERYTHING.”
Heath scoffs, somehow maintaining her imperious tone despite her bound position. “Oh, for Pete’s sake, Robert. I’ve been your supplier for years. You knew exactly what you were doing.”
“Shut up, you bitch !” Caldwell screams, spittle flying from his lips. “You ruined everything for me. I had a good system. Discreet. Under the radar. A new omega every few years, treated well, no one got hurt.”
“Treated well?” The words escape me in a horrified whisper, memories flashing through my mind—the cold clinical examinations, the drugging, the preparation for “placement” with this man who now claims benevolence.
Finn’s hand finds mine, squeezing tight. “He’s delusional,” he murmurs, his voice thick with anger. “Completely divorced from reality.”
On screen, Heath rolls her eyes, seemingly unconcerned by the gun or Caldwell’s escalating rage. “You’re pathetic, Robert. Always have been. Couldn’t form proper bonds, couldn’t maintain relationships with equals, so you had to buy omegas trained to tolerate your mediocrity.”
“Law enforcement is already on it,” Jax says suddenly, phone still pressed to his ear. “The police are tracking the broadcast but need time to pinpoint the location.”
Caldwell stalks toward Heath, the camera’s angle shifting wildly as he moves. “You don’t know anything about me. About what I need. About what I’ve lost.” He presses the gun to her temple. “Because of you. Because you got sloppy. Because that omega escaped and started talking.”
My breath catches. He’s talking about me. About what my testimony set in motion.
“I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but that little pig ,” Heath says, the nickname pulling up a dark feeling I thought I’d long buried, “had more courage and intelligence than you’ve demonstrated in your entire pathetic life, Robert. She escaped because your security was as inadequate as everything else about you.”
Stone’s hand settles on my shoulder, a warm anchor to reality as I watch this surreal confrontation unfold. “She’s trying to provoke him,” he observes quietly. “Why? She doesn’t know this is live, does she?”
“She’s just being Heath,” Ren murmurs, still typing rapidly on his phone. “Incapable of hiding her contempt even with a gun to her head.”
Caldwell jerks the gun away from Heath’s temple, pacing in agitation. “You know what the worst part is? I had her. That sweet little bitch.” He stops, closing his eyes as he licks his lips. “The taste of her slick still haunts me.” He growls. “FUCK. I had her, and she was taken from me before I could even claim her.”
The world tilts slightly, my vision narrowing at the edges. He’s talking about me again, describing me like a possession, a prize he was cheated of. Bile rises in my throat.
“Breathe, Hailey,” Finn whispers, his arm sliding around my waist. “Stay with us. You’re safe.”
On screen, Heath laughs—a harsh, brittle sound utterly devoid of humor. “Oh, Robert. If you had let me do things my way, given her more drugs so she was unresponsive, maybe you’d have had a chance at handling her.”
Caldwell freezes, his expression contorting with rage. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m good at this. I know how to handle omegas. How to make them grateful. How to make them need me.”
“Is that why you pay for the broken ones?” Heath taunts.
“SHUT UP!” Caldwell screams, leveling the gun at Heath again. “You don’t know anything about me!”
“I know most of the omegas I supplied you slit their wrists in your bathroom the first chance they get,” Heath continues relentlessly. “I know the last one slammed her head into the wall till she broke her skull.”
“Jesus,” Jax breathes, his voice thick with horror. “Stone, get Hailey out of here. She doesn’t need to see this.”
“No,” I say firmly, surprising myself with the steadiness of my voice. “I need to see it. All of it.” I look up at Jax, letting him see the certainty in my eyes. “I need to know how it ends.”
After a moment’s hesitation, he nods, respecting my choice, though his scent betrays his concern. “Okay. But we’re right here with you.”
On screen, Caldwell has moved closer to Heath, his movements erratic, the gun now pressed under her chin. “You’re the one who ruins everything. You and your greed. Your connections. Your whole sick empire. I just wanted one thing. One simple thing.”
“To be loved,” Heath finishes mockingly. “Yes, you mentioned that. Touching. But you’re not man enough. Fuck, you’re not even alpha enough. You’re weak, Robert. And that’s why I know you won’t pull that trigger. I know you don’t have it in you.”
On screen, the rage seems to bleed from Caldwell, leaving him empty. “You’re right,” he finally says. He waves the gun between Heath and the camera, his speech becoming more incoherent. “It doesn’t matter now. Nothing matters. They’ve frozen my accounts. Business partners won’t return my calls. And it’s all because of you. You and that omega who couldn’t just accept her place.”
Caldwell presses the gun hard against Heath’s forehead again, his hand visibly shaking. “You ruined everything,” he says, and this time there’s no emotion in his voice—just cold, flat certainty. “Everything I worked for. Everything I deserved.”
“Robert—” Heath begins, but the single gunshot cuts off whatever she might have said.
The sound is deafening even through the phone’s small speaker. I flinch violently, a cry escaping me as I witness Heath’s head snap back, a spray of red misting the wall behind her. Her body slumps in the chair, the ropes that bound her now the only thing keeping her upright.
“Oh god,” I gasp, unable to look away despite the horror unfolding on screen.
Caldwell stares at Heath’s body for several seconds, seeming almost surprised by what he’s done. Then he turns back to the camera, his expression oddly calm now, almost peaceful.
“It’s her fault,” he says quietly. “All of it. She promised me love, but she only ever delivered merchandise. Defective merchandise.”
He raises the gun to his temple.
“No one’s coming to save me,” he continues, speaking directly to the camera. “Not like they saved her. My omega. The one that got away.” A terrible smile stretches his lips. “But they’ll remember me now. They’ll have to. I made sure of that.”
The second gunshot is almost expected, but no less horrifying. Caldwell crumples to the floor, the camera tilting wildly as it falls with him. For several seconds, there’s nothing but a disorienting view of ceiling and wall, the sound of liquid dripping, then silence.
The broadcast continues for several more seconds before cutting off abruptly—likely ended by the social media platform’s moderation algorithms finally catching up to the violent content. The screen returns to my regular timeline, with cheerful posts and advertisements now filling the space where death just played out in real time.
No one speaks. The picnic blanket, the sunny afternoon, the half-prepared meal—all seem surreal now, disconnected from the horror we’ve just witnessed. I’m vaguely aware that I’m trembling, that my breathing has gone shallow and rapid, that tears are streaming down my face without conscious awareness of having begun to cry.
“Hailey,” Jax says finally, his voice gentle but firm. “Hailey, look at me.”
I raise my eyes to his, anchoring myself in the steady concern I find there.
“He’s gone,” Jax says simply. “Heath is gone. They can never hurt you or anyone else again.”
The words take a moment to penetrate the shock surrounding me. Gone. Both of them, gone. The monsters who haunted my nightmares, who represented the darkest chapter of my life—extinguished in seconds right before my eyes.
“It’s over,” I whisper, testing the words, seeing if they ring true. “It’s really over.”
Finn’s arms wrap around me from one side, Stone’s from the other, creating a protective cocoon of pack scent and warmth. “It’s over,” Finn confirms, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re safe. You’re free.”
I should feel something definitive, I think. Relief. Vindication. Closure. Instead, I find myself awash in a complex storm of emotions—horror at the violence I’ve witnessed, shock at the suddenness of it all, a strange emptiness where fear once lived, and beneath it all, a tentative unfurling of something that might, eventually, become peace.
“I don’t know what to feel,” I admit, voice barely above a whisper.
“That’s okay,” Jax assures me, reaching to brush tears from my cheek with gentle fingers. “There’s no right way to respond to something like this.”
“I’m glad they’re dead,” Finn says with surprising vehemence. “I’m sorry if that makes me a terrible person, but I am. They deserved worse than they got.”
His honesty almost makes me smile. “I think…I think I’m glad too. Not about how it happened, but that they can’t hurt anyone else.”
We sit in silence for several minutes, the picnic forgotten. Stone stays beside me, his solid presence a comfort I lean into without hesitation.
“Do you need anything?” Finn asks eventually, his hand still clasped tightly in mine. “Water? To go inside? To talk about it more, or not talk about it at all?”
The simple offer of choices, of agency in how I process this moment, brings fresh tears to my eyes. “Just stay with me,” I request. “All of you. Just…be here.”
“Always,” Stone promises, the single word carrying the weight of absolute certainty.
“As long as you want us,” Finn adds, squeezing my hand.
“Which we hope is forever,” Jax concludes, setting his phone aside to focus fully on our pack circle.
Ren completes the circuit, moving to sit directly in front of me, his arctic blue eyes meeting mine with unwavering directness. “Heath was right about one thing,” he says quietly. “You would have broken him. Because you are stronger than either of them ever understood.”
The unexpected validation—coming from Ren, who measures his words so carefully—loosens something in my chest. A sob escapes me, then another, then I’m crying in earnest. Not the silent tears of shock but deep, wrenching cries that feel like they’re being torn from the very center of my being.
My pack surrounds me immediately, creating a protective circle of warmth and support. No one tries to hush me or hurry the process. They simply hold space for my grief, my relief, my confusion, my release. Allowing the complex emotions to flow through and out of me without judgment or expectation.
I cry until I’m empty, until the storm passes and leaves behind an exhausted clarity. When I finally look up, wiping tear-streaked cheeks with trembling hands, I find four pairs of eyes watching me with identical expressions of patient love.
“Better?” Finn asks gently.
I nod, surprised to discover it’s true. “I think I actually am.”