17. Hailey
Chapter 17
Hailey
T he stairs creak softly under our feet as we climb. They’re beautiful—dark wood polished to a warm sheen, with intricate carvings in the banister that my fingers trace as we ascend.
“Sorry about the mess,” Finn says, though I see nothing out of place. “I usually clean on Thursdays, but today…” He trails off, and that tension returns to his shoulders.
I follow him up the stairs, taking in more photos that line the walls. These seem more personal than those downstairs—candid moments caught in morning light, quiet scenes of domesticity. In one, Finn stands at the stove much like he did earlier, but he’s laughing at something off-camera, spatula raised mid-gesture.
“That one’s awful,” he says, catching my gaze. “Ren loves taking pictures when I’m not looking. Says they’re more real that way.” His voice softens on the alpha’s name; it’s at odds with the earlier pain I heard when he spoke of them.
When we reach the landing, he leads me to the first door, pushing it open to reveal what must be the pack bedroom. The space is massive, with windows spanning one wall and letting in streams of natural light. But what catches my breath is the nest .
Contrary to what I thought, the couch downstairs wasn’t his true nest at all .
The nest before me takes up nearly an entire half of the room—a sprawling creation of cushions, blankets, and pillows, all arranged in a sort of chaotic order. The base looks like a custom-built platform, slightly raised off the floor and curved to create a perfect bowl shape.
And it’s not only the size of it. The colors are beautiful . Shades of pink, with touches of fuchsia that make my heart beat a little harder. Everything looks incredibly soft, incredibly inviting. My fingers twitch with the urge to touch, to sink into that softness. Looking at Finn’s nest feels like standing parched before an oasis, every cell in my body crying out for what I’ve been denied for so long.
I can almost hear the blush in Finn’s voice as he shifts beside me. “I…uh…pink is my favorite color.”
It’s mine, too. But it’s a thought I don’t voice. Can’t. Because before I realize what I’m doing, I’ve crossed the room. My hand reaches out, brushing against a velvet pillow. The texture sends a shiver through me, and I catch a hint of sage—Finn’s scent—woven through the fabric.
“Oh!” I snatch my hand back, horror flooding through me. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—I shouldn’t have?—”
But Finn just stands there, head tilted slightly as he watches me. “Weird,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “Any other omega and I’d probably be at their throat for even looking at my nest.” He shakes his head, running a hand through those honey-gold strands. Some kind of complex emotion flickers across his face. “Can’t believe I just let you walk right in here. Things must be more fucked up than I thought…” He trails off, frowning thoughtfully.
I back away from the nest, hoping distance will help ease any offense I’ve caused. “I’m sorry,” I say again.
He waves off my apology. “Don’t be. It’s…nice, actually. Ha ving someone who appreciates it.” A small smile touches his lips. “Come on, let’s get you that bath.”
He leads me through another door into what has to be the most luxurious bathroom I’ve ever seen. The tub is enormous—a freestanding piece that looks more like a small pool than a bathtub. Windows line one wall, but Finn shows me how to operate the frosted privacy glass.
“The controls are here,” he says, demonstrating the various knobs. “This one’s for temperature. These adjust the jets. And…” He pulls open a cabinet, revealing rows of colorful spheres. “Bath bombs. I may have a slight addiction.”
His enthusiasm is infectious, and I find myself smiling despite everything. He selects one that’s swirled with purple and blue. “This one’s lavender and vanilla. Very relaxing. Kind of like you…” But he murmurs that last line.
Is he talking about being relaxing or the vanilla? Do I smell like that? Like lavender and vanilla? Do I even have a scent? After years of the Academy’s chemical washes and suppressants, I can’t even tell if I have a distinct scent anymore.
He starts the water, testing the temperature with his hand. “Towels are here,” he says, opening another cabinet. He points to a fluffy pink towel that makes my chest warm immediately. “And I’ll bring you some clean clothes. Take as long as you want—the water stays hot automatically.”
The sound of running water fills the space, and steam begins rising. It looks so inviting that my eyes start to water.
“Thank you,” I whisper. The words feel inadequate. Not enough to express the gratitude swelling in my chest.
He pauses at the door, that thoughtful frown returning. “You know, I meant what I said earlier. About being safe here.” His gaze connects directly with mine. “Whatever’s happening with Stone and why he’s kept you secret…with all of this…you don’t have to be afraid anymore.”
Then he’s gone, closing the door softly behind him. I stand there for a moment, listening to the water fill the tub, breathing in the growing steam. Everything feels surreal—the beautiful house, Finn’s kindness, the promise of safety.
The mirror catches my attention, and I startle, thinking for a second that I’m not alone. The girl staring back at me is a stranger. My hand flies to my face, and the reflection mimics me, but the movement feels disconnected, wrong. Like watching someone else’s hand move.
I step closer, trembling. The reflection shows shadows beneath wary eyes that seem too large for her face. I touch them and the face in the mirror does the same. Is that really…me? I can’t remember the last time I…saw myself. And then I realize that must have been way back when I was fifteen. Before the Academy took me. I’ve never been allowed a mirror since then and now…
I step closer, my hand reaching out before I catch myself. Six years. Six years of only knowing my body through Widow’s cruel words and the beta handlers’ disgust-filled remarks. “Pig,” they’d call me when I couldn’t button the uniform they’d given me. “No alpha will want such a fat omega.”
But the reflection shows me something different. The girl—no, woman—staring back at me has high cheekbones I don’t remember having at fifteen, a soft jaw, fuller lips. My face has lost all its baby fat, grown into something almost…pretty. And my body, while curvy, looks nothing like the grotesque thing they made me believe it was.
If I stared hard enough and wished it…I might even be beautiful.
Tears blur my vision, and I watch them fall down the stranger’s cheeks.
I stand there long enough for the entire tub to fill. The first slosh of water over the rim grabs my attention and pulls it away from the mirror. With trembling hands, I shut the water off before turning slowly back to my reflection.
I look small in Stone’s borrowed clothes, my hair tangled and knotted. But there’s something else, too—something in my eyes that looks different from the Hailey I remember. Less haunted, maybe. Or just less alone. A tiny spark that wasn’t there before.
I touch the bandages on my wrists, remembering the alpha’s gentle hands as he’d rewrapped them. I’d been scared even then, waiting for him to do something in line with what I’ve been taught. He didn’t.
Then I think of Finn’s nest, of how desperately I wanted to curl up in all that softness. Of how he didn’t get angry when I touched it, even though I’m a stranger in his home.
Something’s happening here. Something I don’t understand. But as I strip off the clothes and slip into the hot water, watching the bath bomb create swirls of color, I try not to let myself get too comfortable. This is temporary—just until I figure out my next move. I can’t stay here, no matter how safe Finn makes me feel or how much some deep part of me wants to.
Still, as I watch the colors dance across the water’s surface, I let myself enjoy this moment of peace. Even if it can’t last.
The hot water has worked magic on my muscles, turning me boneless and relaxed. Even my mind feels clearer, the constant edge of panic dulled by steam and the lingering scent of lavender and vanilla. As I step out of the tub, wrapping myself in the pink towel Finn left, I feel almost like a different person.
The mirror is fogged now, hiding my reflection in gentle mist. Maybe that’s better. I’m not sure I’m ready to look at myself again, to reconcile the person I see with the one I was taught to believe I am.
When I open the bathroom door, cool air hits my heated skin. Finn sits cross-legged in the center of his nest, frowning at his phone. The moment I appear, he looks up, and something flickers across his face like surprise. His gaze lingers, eyes widening slightly as they trace over my features. For a moment he seems frozen, lips parted on an unspoken word, and his scent shifts, becoming warmer somehow. Then he blinks rapidly and clears his throat, quickly tucking his phone away and hopping out of the nest with a grace I envy.
“Feel better?” He moves to a chair where he’s hung what looks like an entire wardrobe’s worth of clothes. “You were in there a while.”
I hold the towel tight, as if that will help me determine if he’s angry or not. “I was?”
Finn breathes a laugh through his nose. “Nearly two hours.”
My eyes bug out. One hand rises to slam over my mouth. “I’m so sorry.”
Finn laughs again, and it comes easily. “Don’t worry about it. I didn’t mind. I was taking the time to search the net for any mentions of this Academy you were talking about.”
My entire body goes rigid. The relaxation from the bath vanishes instantly, replaced by cold terror. My instincts scream at me to run, to hide, to get away before they come for me.
Finn’s eyes widen and he takes a step toward me, hands raised but not touching. “Hey, no, I’m not—I would never call them. I swear. I just wanted to understand what we’re dealing with, to help keep you safe.”
I search his face, his scent, looking for any hint of deception. But there’s only genuine concern and that strange protectiveness I felt from him earlier. Slowly, my racing heart begins to calm.
The easy way he mentions the Academy—like it’s just a place and not the center of my nightmares—creates a strange dissonance. In his warm, safe home, surrounded by his scent and kindness, it almost seems possible that the Academy could be just a bad memory. Something I could eventually leave behind, rather than something that would always hunt me.
Breathing out slowly, Finn gives me a hopeful half-smile. His posture relaxes, shoulders dropping as the tension dissipates. “I don’t get to do this often,” he says, his tone brightening with deliberate cheerfulness, “so please indulge me.” I have no idea what he’s talking about, and when he gestures to the clothes behind him, I’m still lost. But the panic I just felt is fading.
Seeming to sense the shift in my mood, Finn brightens and turns back to the clothes with an exaggerated flourish. “Now, let’s focus on something more fun. I’ve got everything from cozy to cute to practical. They’re all new.” His cheeks grow warm. “I may have a slight shopping addiction I’m not ready to address.”
The shy laugh that leaves my lips is enough to make him grin, and I can’t help but stare at him. He’s so perfect. He’s wearing a different shirt now, one that hides his scars, but that isn’t the reason he’s shining like the orange rays of sunlight filtering into the room.
He’s gorgeous. And fun , it seems.
He’s nothing like the angry, panicked omega that found me in that cabin earlier and I wonder if this is the real him. The true Finn that his alphas get to see all the time.
“These should fit,” he says, gesturing to the array of soft fabrics. “They’re really all new, so you don’t have to worry about wearing my hand-me-downs.” He shrugs. “I bought them thinking I might eventually wear them, but…I kind of forgot I had them.” He grins sheepishly. “Whatever you do, don’t tell Jax I said that. He’ll probably use it as proof that I really overdo it at the mall.” He grins again and my heart warms.
The way he talks so easily about them. Like they’re friends. It’s hard to believe it’s possible.
“This one is particularly nice.” He picks up something knitted, a riot of colors that reminds me of something out of a Dr. Seuss book. “I got this one winter but I was waiting to show it off. We got snowed in and never went anywhere the entire Christmas.” He frowns at the…what is it? A sweater?
The clothes are beautiful though—soft sweaters in various pastel shades, sweats that look butter-soft. Everything looks incredibly comfortable. I can tell they cost a lot and I immediately worry that he’ll be wasting them on me.
Finn seems to read my mind. “It’s all yours if you want it. Honest.” He pauses, gaze skipping down my frame, and I realize I’m still only wearing the bath towel. “They’ll look good on you.”
My cheeks warm. The casual compliment brushes against something tender within me, something the Academy never managed to completely destroy. It feels dangerous to accept such words, to let them sink in and take root, but I find myself wanting to believe him. “You really think so?”
“Of course.” He says it without a doubt in his tone. “I made sure there’s no scent on them,” he adds quickly. “In case the alphas’ scents bother you.”
I almost tell him that they don’t. That their scents are nice together. All this conversation with him must have loosened my tongue. I manage to remain silent and thankfully so. If I’d let that slip, he’d have no doubt ordered me to leave. And even though that’s exactly what I should be doing, a part of me doesn’t want to go back out there. Because once I leave, there’s nowhere to go.
Finn continues. “Most omegas find multiple alpha scents overwhelming. I do. Especially when they’re not pack.”
I just shrug, unsure how to explain that the combined scents in this house feel right in a way I don’t understand.
“Well, pick whatever you like,” he says, gesturing to the clothes again. “I can even grab more if you want.”
More?
He must see the question in my eyes because he does that sheepish grin again and shrugs. “Be my guest. Go ahead.”
My nod is hesitant and I watch as he leans against the wall, an encouraging smile on his face as he observes me. I can still see it in his eyes. The questions. The uncertainty. I can still even see a bit of the male omega who panicked so much he tore off his shirt earlier. But he’s holding it all back.
He’s prioritizing helping me .
I’d be very ungrateful to not accept his assistance.
I reach out tentatively, running my fingers over a pale pink sweater. The material is impossibly soft. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.” His smile is bright, genuine. “Oh! And these too.” He pulls open a drawer, then immediately closes it again, cheeks flushing. I barely catch a glimpse of strange colorful shapes in silicone before the drawer slams shut. His embarrassment fills the air with a spicy tang. “Wrong drawer.” He slowly pulls on another, peeking at the contents before he pulls the drawer fully open. There, he stops. “Right. These are boxers. You probably won’t want to wear them. We’ll need to get you some…undergarments. I didn’t think…”
Despite everything, a small laugh escapes me. His embarrassment is oddly endearing.
“The sweater?” he suggests quickly, clearly wanting to move past the moment. “It would look pretty with these.” He holds up a pair of gray sweats that look softer than anything I’ve ever worn.
I nod, gathering the clothes carefully. “Thank you,” I whisper. “For everything.”
“Don’t mention it.” He waves off my thanks. “Get dressed and I’ll show you where you’ll be staying.”
I duck back into the bathroom to change. The clothes feel amazing against my skin—soft and warm and nothing like the stiff uniforms from the Academy. When I emerge, Finn’s waiting by the door.
“This way,” he says, leading me back into the hallway. We pass three doors, and I can’t help noticing how his scent changes slightly as we walk by each one. These must be the alphas’ rooms—their personal spaces when they’re not in the pack bedroom.
Finally, we reach the last door. “This is technically my room,” Finn says, pushing it open. “Though I usually sleep in the nest. It’s yours now, for as long as you want it.”
The room is beautiful—all soft creams and pale woods, with a large window overlooking the forest. The bed looks incredibly inviting, piled high with pillows and what appears to be a handmade quilt.
“I’ll let you rest,” Finn says softly. “But if you need anything, I’ll be downstairs. Okay?”
I nod, still overwhelmed by his kindness. As he turns to leave, a thought strikes me. “Finn?”
He pauses in the doorway. “Yeah?”
“Why are you helping me?”
He’s quiet for a moment. “I don’t know,” he finally says. I nod, looking away. But then he continues. “Something about you feels right and my instincts aren’t usually wrong. I’ve learned to trust those feelings.”
My lungs seize momentarily as my focus snaps back to him.
He holds my gaze for a long moment, something in his expression that I can’t quite read. Then he ducks his head.
“I’ll let you get settled,” he says softly, and slips out, the door clicking shut behind him. I stand there for a long moment, his words echoing in my mind.
‘ Something about you feels right’ . Coming from a stranger, those words should make me wary, defensive. Instead, they settle in my chest like a warm weight, dangerous and comforting all at once.
I sink onto the edge of the bed, fingers tracing the pattern of the quilt. His words echo in my mind, triggering a longing so intense it’s almost painful. To belong somewhere. To feel right. To have someone look at me and see more than just an omega to be trained or claimed. The possibility feels too fragile to trust, too precious to dismiss. I wrap my arms around myself, breathing in the clean scent of new clothes and safety, wondering how long it can possibly last.