18. Finn
Chapter 18
Finn
T he house is too quiet as I move through it, gathering cleaning supplies. I thought I’d gotten used to these moments of solitude—the peace of having the space to myself, of being able to work without interruption. But today, the silence feels heavy, charged with all the things I don’t understand.
My hands shake slightly as I measure out cleaning solution. Stone kept her hidden. For days. In that tiny cabin, alone and afraid. The more I think about it, the more my blood boils with a mix of anger and hurt.
Why didn’t he tell us? Tell me ?
Things have been strained between all of us, yes. The pack bond feels stretched thin, communication breaking down. But this? This feels like a betrayal on a whole different level.
I scrub at an already-clean counter, trying to organize my thoughts. I’m systematically erasing her scent from every surface, and I don’t even know why. To protect her? To buy time? My instincts are pulling me in too many directions at once. When they get home tonight, Stone will go straight to the cabin. He’ll find it empty and panic. Good , a vindictive part of me thinks. Let him feel what it’s like to be scared and confused. To have the rug pulled out from under him.
But even as I think it, guilt gnaws at me. I love him. Love all of them. Even now, with everything so messy between us, that hasn’t changed. I just want things to go back to the way they were—when we talked, really talked, instead of dancing around each other with careful politeness.
Maybe I should wait. Let Stone come to me when he discovers Hailey’s gone. But no—that feels wrong, too. Like I’m playing games instead of addressing the real issue.
The bleach burns my nose as I move to the floors. The familiar routine of cleaning helps calm my racing thoughts, but doesn’t silence them completely. What if I confront Stone alone? Give him a chance to explain before involving Jax and Ren?
But secrets are what got us here in the first place.
Gathering my supplies, I head upstairs. Her scent is fainter here, nothing like the concentrated distress that had filled that cabin, but it’s there—a ghostly trail that makes my instincts twist with protective urges I don’t quite understand. She’s not pack. I shouldn’t be having any reaction to her apart from maybe something platonic.
It makes me roll the muscles in my shoulders, a frown on my brow. I decide to clean the hallway even though her scent is faint, just to be thorough, just until I can figure out what to do next. As I near my old bedroom door, a soft whimper stops me mid-motion.
I’m so lost in thought that I almost miss the second sound. Pausing mid-wipe, I strain to listen. Nothing. Just the house settling, probably. Still, something makes me uneasy.
I lift my hand to knock but pause in the motion. Probably better to let her rest. This must be even more stressful and confusing to her than it is to me. So I drop my hand and move away, finishing up the cleaning before heading downstairs.
Setting down my cleaning supplies in the utility room, I move quietly through the house, double-checking the locks. It feels wrong, like I’m caging her in, but better safe than sorry. If everything she’s said is true, then she’d have no reason to trust Stone, or even me. And despite that I managed to rein in my anger and my pain at this whole situation, I’m not sure how good of an act it was. She probably saw right through me—the manic cooking, the forced calm, the way I couldn't quite look her in the eye. Fuck, I feel like I’m fucking tearing apart inside. She might just be pretending everything’s alright just so she can bolt at the first moment.
A spike of worry goes through me and I push it down.
One thing at a time, Finn. One thing at a time.
I head upstairs, heart beating in my throat as I stop at the door to the nest. I look down the corridor to my old bedroom. The door’s still closed. No sound comes from within. She’s probably sleeping. Again, I tell myself I should let her rest.
I need to shower, anyway. That trip through the woods and my resulting panic attack made me all sweaty.
The nest room’s shower is running before I let myself think too deeply about any of this. The hot water helps wash away some of my tension, but my mind keeps circling back to the same questions. Why did Stone keep her secret? What was he planning to do? And why does she feel so…right?
I’m just stepping out, wrapping a towel around my waist, when I hear it. A soft whimper—no, a whine —so quiet I almost think I imagined it. My gaze snaps to the standing mirror in the nest bedroom, eyes focusing on myself. It was definitely a whine, but it certainly didn’t come from me.
I left the door open in case, just for Hailey, I guess. I realize that’s where the sound is filtering through, because I hear it again.
My feet move before my brain catches up. I’m through the door, water dripping from my legs, only some caught by the towel wrapped around my waist. I’m at my old bedroom door a second later. I knock softly, but get no response.
“Hailey?” I call quietly. “I’m coming in, okay?”
Still no response, but the distress radiating through the door makes the omega in me want to keen in sympathy. Slowly, I push the door open.
My eyes fly to the bed before I stop short. It’s still perfectly made, undisturbed, exactly as I’d left it. For a split second, panic grips me before I catch movement in my peripheral vision. There, in the far corner of the room, a small figure is huddled into a tight ball.
Hailey sits with her knees pulled tight to her chest. Her face is buried in her arms, shoulders shaking with silent sobs.
“Oh, honey,” I breathe, and her head snaps up. Her eyes are wide, tear-filled, but it’s the pure terror in them that makes my heart crack.
“I’m sorry,” she gasps. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to hear me. I’ll be quiet, I promise.”
Her words slam into my chest, stealing my breath. What did they do to her at that place, to make her apologize for crying?
“No,” I say firmly, though I keep my voice gentle. “You don’t have to be quiet. You don’t have to apologize. You’re allowed to feel whatever you’re feeling.”
She stares at me like I’m speaking a foreign language. Slowly, I move over to her and sink to the floor, keeping my distance but making sure she can see me clearly.
“Do you want to tell me what happened?”
She shakes her head, then stops, then nods, her movements jerky and uncertain. “It’s…” her voice comes out barely above a whisper, “it’s too big. Too open.” She presses herself further into the corner, as if trying to disappear into it. “I can’t…I can’t watch everything at once.”
Her eyes dart around the room, and for the first time, I really look at my old bedroom through her eyes. The wide windows that I always loved for their morning light now seem exposed and vulnerable. The open space between the bed and the door that I never thought twice about feels like a vast, dangerous expanse. Every shadow could hide a threat. Every corner that isn’t pressed against a wall is an opening someone could slip through.
My heart constricts as I realize how this normal bedroom—my safe space—must feel to someone who’s learned to fear open spaces, to someone who’s been taught that safety means making herself as small as possible.
And she’s exhausted. I can see it in her eyes. As if she’d spent the entire night awake, watching shadows. I remember, too, that she’d been sleeping before I woke her up in that cabin this morning.
“It’s okay,” I tell her softly. “You’re going to be okay.” I hear the words and some part of my brain marvels at the fact that I am comforting another omega. Never in the world would I have imagined this. But her scent isn’t disturbing me.
It’s worrisome that it isn’t.
Maybe the suppressants she was on have something to do with it.
Her breath hitches on another sob. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
The question breaks my heart all over again. “Because you deserve kindness, Hailey. Because no one deserves what you’ve gone through and no one should have to face their demons alone.”
I say that and a part of me aches. Because who has been here to help me face my demons since my pack began falling apart? Who? No one.
A tear escapes her eyes, and she wipes it away so quickly it’s like she doesn’t want me to see her break down.
I’ve been a fool. I can’t leave her alone in here. I know exactly what she needs.
“Come with me,” I say softly, pushing to my feet. She looks up at me, confusion clear in her tear-stained face. “Trust me?”
I hold out my hand, and after a moment’s hesitation, she takes it. Her fingers are cold against mine, trembling slightly. I help her up, noting how she keeps her shoulders hunched, making herself smaller.
Leading her back to the nest room, I pause at the threshold. The space is mine. Ours . My sacred little spot that I don’t share with anyone except for my alphas—well, used to, anyway. The nest itself is saturated with pack scents—my own mixed with the alphas’ distinct markers. For a moment, I worry it might be too much for her. But then I remember how she didn’t react earlier when she entered the house. Maybe their scents don’t bother her.
“The nest…” I start, then stop, unsure how to even suggest it. This is uncharted territory. Omegas don’t invite other omegas into their nests. It’s madness.
And yet…
A whine builds in my throat as my logical brain tells me to leave the room and abandon this quest. I don’t…I don’t want to leave the room. Suddenly, I’m a little exhausted, too.
I glance down at Hailey. How do I tell her that something in me wants her here, wants to offer comfort in the most intimate way omegas can? That despite everything I know about omega territoriality, having her in my space feels natural?
But she’s already moving toward it, drawn like a moth to a flame. Her free hand reaches out, fingers brushing against a soft blanket. The longing in her expression makes something inside me want to reach out to her.
“It’s okay,” I say gently. “Come on.”
I climb in first, settling into the familiar curve of the platform. After a moment’s hesitation, she follows, movements careful as if she’s afraid of disturbing anything.
“I shouldn’t…” she whispers, but her body betrays her, leaning toward the softness.
“You should,” I counter, reaching for her hand again. “And you will.”
She lets me pull her deeper into the nest, and something in my chest loosens at having her here. The omega in me preens at being able to offer comfort, to share the safety of my space.
At first, we sit awkwardly, neither quite sure how to arrange ourselves. Then I think about how touch-starved she must be, how long it’s been since anyone showed her simple kindness, and I think: fuck it.
I open my arms. “Come here.”
Her eyes go wide, but there’s such naked hope in them that it makes my throat tight. Slowly, she moves closer, until I can wrap my arms around her and pull her against my chest.
A whimper escapes me before I can stop it. The contact sends waves of comfort through my body, like some vital piece clicking into place. I didn’t realize how much I needed this too—just touch, just connection.
She fits perfectly against me, soft and warm, her curves settling naturally into the spaces of my body. Her scent blooms with contentment, and instead of making me bristle like another omega’s scent should, it soothes something raw inside me.
“This okay?” I murmur into her hair. I almost groan. Her hair smells of Ren’s shampoo. He’d probably left a bottle in there the last time they’d been here during one of my heats.
She nods, pressing closer. “I haven’t…” her voice cracks. “This feels good, though I’m sorry to bother you. I won’t stay long.”
“No.” I tighten my arms around her before clearing my throat. I’m fucking happy she doesn’t have eyes at the back of her head because mine are so wide, my face is probably broadcasting every feeling I’m trying to contain. “I mean, I don’t mind.”
She tries to shift away, and I whimper again. Fuck. I press my eyes closed tight. I’m going to pretend that never happened.
But she heard it. She stiffens a moment before her body melts, like my whimper flipped some switch inside her. It’s…strange. Here we are, two people who should be at each other’s throats, and instead she’s finding comfort in me. As if she’s forgotten we’re supposed to be enemies. As if it never even occurred to her .
The fact draws another whimper from me and I press into her some more, realizing she’s not the only one who has been touch-starved.
That makes some leaden part of me tug hard on my consciousness, sadness I only release at nights into these very pillows threatening to come to the fore.
“Rest,” I tell her softly. “You’re safe.”
Hailey nods, her soft hair brushing against my face. I try not to lean into it.
Gradually, her breathing evens out, body growing heavier against mine as sleep claims her. I shift slightly, careful not to disturb her, and reach for my phone on the edge of the nest.
The screen doesn’t show anything apart from a message in the pack group chat.
It’s Jax.
Finn, please don’t worry about dinner tonight. Can you order in something for yourself? We’ll eat here at the office.
Ren
He likes to cook.
Jax
I know that, but he doesn’t need to worry about us tonight.
My anger rises even as my heart clenches, but I ignore them. With a huff, I set the phone down.
The movement disturbs our mingled scents—hers and mine weaving through the familiar markers of my alphas—and I stop breathing. Her scent should be setting off alarm bells. Shouldn’t it be an intrusion in this space that I’ve carefully made? Every pillow, every blanket at its own special location? Instead, it feels like her scent…fits in. Another thread in the tapestry of comfort that makes up my nest. The realization makes unease thread through me. That alone with something I can’t name.
My heart’s beating hard as I take up the phone again, heading straight to the search engine. My fingers hover over the keyboard for a moment before I type:
“ What could be the reason some omega scents don’t bother other omegas ”
I scroll through a few articles about pack disputes and omega rivalries. Nothing about what I’m feeling. I try again:
“ Omegas sharing nest space ”
More articles about fights over packs and territory. Warnings about keeping unbonded omegas separated. My frown deepens. This can’t be right. I glance down at Hailey, peaceful against my chest, her scent still mingling so naturally with mine.
“ Can omegas be compatible ”
The results are all about omega-alpha compatibility. I huff quietly in frustration. Scrolling down, there are auto-suggestions that I skip disinterestedly through. Until I spot a particular one.
“ Can omegas imprint on other omegas ”
The suggestion makes my heart skip a beat, though I’m not sure why. As I wait for the results to load, I breathe in our mixed scents again, trying to analyze what it is about her that feels so…different. Special.