12. Finn
Chapter 12
Finn
I watch as Stone slips through the back door, tracking muddy footprints across the floor I just cleaned. His hair is damp from the night air, and there’s something about his movements—furtive, careful—that makes me tighten up inside.
Three days.
Three days of missing food containers. Three days of him disappearing for hours. Three days of hope slowly turning into something else.
“Hey,” he says, startled to find me downstairs this late. “I thought everyone was asleep.”
Sure he did. That’s why he’s creeping back so late, isn’t it.
I hate the suspicion that’s taken root in me these past months. Hate how it’s transformed me from a trusting omega to someone who watches shadows and counts minutes. Someone who catalogs every little change in my alphas’ behavior like I’m building a case file.
I gesture to the mop in my hand. “Just cleaning.” It’s a lie. I’ve been waiting, watching the clock tick past midnight, wondering why he’s been gone to his cabin so much lately. What he does when he goes there .
He looks down at the floor immediately. “Oh shit. Sorry, babe.”
Babe.
My heart twists in two.
He hasn’t called me that in a long, long time. He still cares then?
Fuck, I hate how needy that makes me.
Stone leans down before pulling his dirty boots off his feet. I watch him pad to the utility room to put them down before returning.
He takes the mop from me and begins cleaning his own mess with careful, methodical strokes.
“You don’t have to,” I say, but my protest is weak. I love watching him clean. It’s intimate somehow. Domestic. A glimpse of what we used to be.
“Course I do.” He glances up, a shadow of his old grin playing at his lips. But there’s something behind his eyes that I can’t read. As if he’s aware of my attention and he’s putting on a curated show. “Can’t have you cleaning up after me at this hour.”
I lean against the wall, arms crossed over my chest. His curls are wild from the wind, and there’s a leaf caught in them that makes my fingers itch to reach out. To touch. To smooth. To…
Stop it, Finn.
“Jax and Ren?”
I can almost see the way his shoulders stiffen at his own question.
“Asleep.” I lie. Neither of them are sleeping. I hear them tossing and turning every night.
“Oh. Good. Long day at the office tomorrow.”
Uh-huh. Yeah. I already know. Every day has been a long day at the office lately.
“Tea?” I offer, already heading toward the kitchen. It’s our thing. Was our thing. Late-night conversations over chamomile, his arm around my waist, my head on his shoulder as we listened to some smooth jazz .
He hesitates, a furtive look crossing his features. “I should probably?—”
“Just one cup?” The words come out smaller than I wanted them to. Needier. I hate how desperate I sound, but I can’t help it. These moments are so rare now.
Something softens in his expression. “Yeah, okay. One cup.”
I head to the kitchen quickly and busy myself with the kettle, pulling down our usual mugs—his favorite black one with the chip in the handle, my blue one with the painted stars. Ren had been the one to design mine. Said he loved looking into my eyes when we…during my…when I have my heats. That they were like stars in the night.
I gulp hard. The familiar motions should be soothing, but there’s tension in the air. Questions I’m afraid to ask.
Stone finishes mopping and I hear him pad to the utility room shortly before he appears.
“How was your day?” he asks, settling onto one of the bar stools at the island. There’s genuine interest in his voice, but also…something else. Like he’s trying too hard to be casual.
“Same as usual.” I keep my back to him, watching the kettle. “Cleaned. Cooked. Gardened.”
“The tomatoes coming in?”
“Almost. With all the rain, I’ve had to move the saplings to the greenhouse.” I smile slightly, remembering how he used to help me in the garden. How his hands would cup the ripening fruit so gently, testing for readiness. “I have to give them some more time.”
The kettle clicks off and I pour the water, letting the tea steep. When I finally turn, he’s watching me with an expression I can’t quite read.
“Finn—” he starts, then stops as I hand him his mug.
The ceramic of the mug is warm against my palms as I watch Stone blow on his tea. He takes a careful sip, and for a moment, everything feels almost normal. Almost like before.
Then he shifts, and something tickles at my senses. Something…different. My nose twitches slightly, but I push the thought away. I’m being paranoid. Reading into things that aren’t there. Again.
“Are you hungry?” I ask, wrapping my hands around my mug. “I could heat something up.”
“Yeah, actually.” He takes another sip, shifts slightly on the stool, and there it is again. That hint of… something . “Starving.”
My chest tightens. The container I’d packed for him earlier is gone from the fridge—I’d checked obsessively throughout the day, watching it disappear like all the others this week. “But you already ate your dinner.”
“Oh.” He blinks. That telltale pause before he lies. The one he thinks I don’t notice. “Yeah, I did, but…you know how it is. Still a bit peckish.”
I turn to the fridge, using the movement to hide whatever might be showing on my face.
“Jax won’t mind,” I say, pulling out the container I’d packed with Jax’s dinner. My voice sounds strange to my ears. Distant. “It’s not like anyone eats what I make anymore, anyway.”
“Finn—”
“It’s fine.” I pop the lid, focusing on the simple task of transferring the food to a plate. I sniff as quietly as I can, trying to pinpoint what that strange note, that single thread of a scent is.
My hands shake slightly as I put the plate in the microwave. I punch in numbers without really seeing them.
“You’ve been working late,” I say to the microwave door, watching the plate rotate. Keeping my voice neutral is proving difficult. “Must be a big project.”
Another pause. Another lie coming. “Yeah, lots going on at work.”
The microwave beeps. I pull out the plate; set it in front of him. Everything on autopilot while my mind spins, trying to deny what my senses are screaming at me .
The scent gets stronger as he moves, lifting the fork to his mouth. It’s sweet. So sweet. Like summer honey and…
No.
“Thanks, babe.” He swallows the first bite, then takes another, looking honest-to-God like he really has been starving. I have to turn away again. That endearment. That scent. The lies.
The scent is unmistakable now, growing clearer with every passing second. It’s faint but I catch it. Maybe because I’m actually looking for it. For something to blame all this pain on. My hands tighten on the edge of the counter as the scent registers. An omega. Another omega. Nausea rises within me, but I force myself to stay steady, to keep my voice casual. “You’re welcome.”
It’s honey. Vanilla. Omega .
“Just, uh, put it away when you’re done,” I manage, hurrying out of the kitchen before he can see the horror on my face. Anything to keep moving. To keep from falling apart right here in our kitchen.
Our kitchen. But for how much longer?
Stone has been seeing an omega.
The truth slams into me, fracturing everything I thought I knew.
Does he…does he love her? Does he want her more than he wants me?
My heart feels so heavy I fear it might break and I’ll die right here in the corridor.
And even though I’m walking away, trying to put distance between me and Stone, the memory of that scent feels like it’s permeated my very nostrils and has embedded itself within my head.
Sweet. Pure. Feminine .
Everything I’m not.
I almost shatter by the time I reach the utility room. The pieces start falling into place with sickening clarity. Are Jax and Ren in on this, too? Is that why they’ve been staying out so late? Leaving so early each morning? Is that why they can’t even look at me ?
I’ve been trying to ignore the possibility, trying to pretend their actions meant something else. Anything else. Because admitting the truth means acknowledging that all my efforts—the perfectly cooked meals, the meticulously maintained home, the way I’ve tried to make myself smaller, quieter, less needy—have failed. That I’ve failed. That maybe I was never enough to begin with.
My silent sobs threaten to rip me apart.
“Finn?” I hear Stone call from the kitchen. My pulse stutters painfully. I can’t let him see me like this. Can’t let him know I have the faintest idea. Reaching up, I switch off the light, plunging the room into darkness.
He hadn’t gone straight to his room tonight. With my meeting him at the back door, he hadn’t had time to go and shower, and maybe his exhaustion and his hunger worked in my favor. Even though what I discovered is breaking me apart.
I press myself against the wall in the dark utility room, hands clasped over my mouth to keep quiet. Through the open door, I hear the scrape of Stone’s fork against the plate, the soft clink as he sets it in the sink. The sound of the tap as he scrubs it clean.
He’s waiting, probably wondering where I went. Probably hoping I’ve gone upstairs so he can shower, wash away the evidence of where he’s been. Who he’s been with.
His footsteps pause in the hallway. “Finn?”
I squeeze my eyes shut, willing my breathing to steady. After what feels like forever, I hear him sigh, then the sound of his footsteps as he heads up the stairs.
I wait until I hear his door close before I move. My legs feel weak, shaky, but I force myself forward. I have to know. Have to be sure.
The house is silent as I creep up the stairs, avoiding the spots I know will creak. The faint strip of light beneath Stone’s door cuts a pale line across the dark hallway. Holding my breath, I creep past Jax and Ren’s room, hyper-aware of every tiny sound. The shower starts up, water hitting tile, and I count to thirty before easing Stone’s door open just enough to slip inside.
The bathroom door is ajar, steam curling out in lazy tendrils. His laundry basket sits just inside, next to the sink. A few steps. That’s all I need. The shower’s rhythm doesn’t change as I slide forward, eyes on the dark shower curtain. My fingers close around the basket’s edge, and I start to lift. Stone groans under the spray, making my heart slam against my ribs, but the water keeps running, steady and unchanged.
My fingers tremble as I reach for the shirt on top. It’s the one he was wearing earlier. The one with the scent like…
I press the fabric to my nose and nearly whimper. For a charged moment, I swear Stone stills behind the shower curtain—something in the way the water droplets hit the tile—before he continues showering again. His scent hits me first—strong, familiar, home . Despite everything, I respond, wanting to burrow into that smell forever. To wrap myself in it until I can pretend nothing’s changed.
My body betrays me with its instinctive reaction—warmth pooling low in my belly, my scent sweetening with longing before I can control it. Even now, after everything, the omega in me still recognizes him as mine. The cruel irony makes my eyes burn with fresh tears.
But then I catch it. Underneath his scent, woven through it like delicate threads. Honey. Vanilla. So pure it makes something deep within me constrict.
The scent is… perfect . Devastatingly perfect. Like summer sunshine, sweet dreams, and everything good in the world. Even through my pain, I understand. How could anyone resist this? How could my alphas not want this?
A treacherous part of me wants to seek out this scent, to find its source and understand what makes it so irresistible. To see the omega who carries it—is she small and delicate? Does she laugh easily? Does she fit perfectly against Stone's chest in ways my too- tall frame never could? The thought makes me dig my nails into my palms until I feel the sting of breaking skin.
I sink to my knees, still clutching his shirt. The other omega’s scent seems to mock me with its perfection. No trace of wrongness. No hint of damage or pain. Just pure, sweet omega.
Everything I used to be. Everything I can never be again.
A sound escapes me—something between a sob and a whimper—and I quickly stuff the shirt back in the basket before hurrying from the room.
“Hello?” Stone asks from behind the curtain. “Finn? That you?”
But I’m already out the door and down the corridor back to the nest before he exits the shower. Even though a large part of me knows he won’t leave until he washes away the evidence before morning.
But I know now. Can’t un-know it.
Three days ago, I’d felt hope when the first container disappeared. Thought maybe Stone was finally reaching out, accepting what I offered. Maybe things were getting better.
I was wrong.
I’d wanted so badly to believe he was just busy with work. Or that he just needed space in the woods. That the distance was temporary.
But that scent…
I sink into my empty nest, wrapping my arms around myself. The nest never felt bigger or more lonely. The house, too, feels too big suddenly, too empty despite the sleeping alphas in rooms not far away. My pack. My family. My everything.
Or at least, they were.
Time passes steadily as silent tears soak the bedding. Another omega. One who smells like summer and sweetness. One who probably doesn’t carry the shadows I do. The scars. The damage.
I should have known this would happen, eventually. Should have prepared myself for the possibility that they’d find someone else. Someone they could all bond with properly. Without the same problems that have come with them bonding with me. Someone they all wanted.
Someone better.
A door opens down the hall—probably Jax checking on everyone like he does every night. His footsteps pause at the nest room, door opening slightly, and I pretend I’m asleep.
For one distressing moment, I want to call out to him. To beg him to come in, to hold me like he used to. To make me feel safe when everything is crumbling. The words rise in my throat, almost escaping before I swallow them back down. Pride is all I have left now.
He won’t come in. He’s only checking the perimeter. Protecting his pack.
But he can’t protect me from this.
I force myself to push away the pain. Tomorrow, I’ll make breakfast like always. I’ll wrap portions carefully, label them with names. I’ll pretend I don’t notice when Stone takes extra food. I’ll smile and nod and act like everything’s fine.
Because what else can I do?
I love them. More than anything. I…I love them with my very soul.
Fresh tears soak the pillows, but the truth sits heavy in my stomach: I’m losing them. Maybe I already have. Maybe I lost them that night two years ago when everything changed.
I close my eyes, but sleep doesn’t come. Instead, I remember the way Stone used to look at me—like I was precious, perfect, worth protecting. The way Jax would curl around me on bad nights, his steady heartbeat drowning out the memories. The way Ren would paint for hours, channeling his darkness into beauty instead of rage.
Now Stone looks through me, Jax keeps his distance, and Ren’s paintbrushes gather dust. The art supplies I’d gotten Ren for his birthday still sit wrapped in his studio. Expensive brushes, pigments in the exact shades he loves. He’d kissed my breath away when he’d opened them—a real kiss. And a real smile on his lips. Not the hollow ones we exchange now. But now the gift remains untouched. Like everything else between us.
And somewhere out there is an omega who smells like everything an alpha should want. An omega who smells so good, even I…
Even I like her scent.
FUCK.
I feel vomit and disgust rise in my stomach at just that thought.
My alphas have found another omega. One who isn’t broken. One who smells like everything an omega should be.
And I’m still here, in the dark, falling apart.