25. Hailey
Chapter 25
Hailey
T he list-making ends up being less stressful than I expected, mostly because Finn keeps distracting himself with random commentary about his favorite shows. He’ll be typing something about toiletries, then suddenly launch into an explanation about why that dating show where the alphas aren’t allowed to touch the omegas is “basically a masterclass in human psychology.”
“See, they put all these ridiculously attractive omegas on set,” he’s saying now, tablet forgotten in his lap, “and the alphas aren’t allowed to touch them or anyone else or they lose prize money. It’s brilliant torture.”
“That sounds…mean?”
He laughs, the sound rich and warm. “Oh, it absolutely is. But watching them try to resist temptation while also forming genuine connections? It’s fascinating.” His eyes sparkle. “Want to see for yourself?”
Before I can answer, he’s already reaching for what looks like a remote control. A screen I hadn’t noticed before lights up on the opposite wall—some kind of projector setup, I realize. The nest dims slightly as he adjusts something, creating a cozy cinema-like atmosphere.
“We don’t have to watch that one,” he says quickly, misreading my silence. “There’s that baking show I was telling you about that’s much more wholesome?—”
“No, I…I want to see what you like.” The words come out soft, but his answering smile makes my chest tight.
He settles back against a mountain of pillows, then hesitates. “You can…I mean, there’s plenty of room here. If you want to be comfortable.”
My heart thunders in my ears. He’s offering…what exactly? The space beside him looks inviting, piled with soft blankets and cushions. But the thought of being so close…
“You don’t have to,” he adds gently. “You’re free to do whatever you want here. Whatever makes you feel safe.”
Safe.
I study him—the careful way he holds himself, the open honesty in his expression. Before I can overthink it, I scoot closer, settling into the pillows beside him. Not touching, but close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body.
My heart is thundering harder in my chest and I swear I hear Finn inhale deeply before biting back a sound like a groan in his throat.
The show starts, and it’s…bizarre. Beautiful people in a tropical paradise, all tanned skin and perfect hair. But it’s Finn’s running commentary that captures my attention. He knows all their names, their storylines, their mistakes. He gasps dramatically at revelations I’m sure he’s seen before, groans at particularly bad decisions, and occasionally mutters “oh honey, no” at the screen like he’s watching his friends make terrible life choices.
I find myself relaxing despite myself, drawn in by his enthusiasm. At some point, I shift slightly and our shoulders brush. I freeze, waiting for…something. Panic maybe. But all I feel is that now-familiar warmth spreading through my body .
Finn doesn’t move away. Doesn’t make any sudden movements at all. Just keeps watching the screen, though I swear his breathing changes again slightly.
Another episode starts automatically, and I’m suddenly aware of how much closer we’ve gotten. My head is almost resting on his shoulder now, my body curved toward his heat like a flower seeking sun. I should move. Should put some distance between us. But I’m so comfortable, and he smells so good, and…
And it’s like some part of me has always wanted this. Needed this. This comfort and warmth . My instincts, so long suppressed at the Academy, seem to purr at the proximity of someone safe. Every breath brings his scent—sage and rain—and my usual anxiety feels distant.
I should be terrified by how quickly my defenses are crumbling. How easily I’m responding to him. But there’s something about Finn that makes it feel…okay. Natural. Like maybe I don’t have to fight every instinct, deny every need.
Like maybe I truly don’t need to remain…quiet and starved.
“Cold?” His voice is low, intimate in the dim light.
I realize I’m shivering slightly, though not from cold. Still, I nod, not trusting my voice.
He reaches for a blanket—the purple one he mentioned earlier—and drapes it over both of us with careful movements. The soft fabric settles around us like a cocoon, and this time when I lean into him, it feels natural. Right.
His arm comes up slowly and settles around my shoulders. The weight of it should feel confining. Should trigger every defense mechanism I’ve built over years of survival. Instead, I feel…protected. Safe in a way I can’t explain.
“Okay?” he murmurs, and when he shifts against me, bringing his body closer to mine, I catch something in his scent. A subtle sweetness under the sage that I hadn’t noticed before. That’s when it hits me—he’s drawing comfort from this, too. As another omega, he craves the same things I do. Safety. Warmth. Security .
The realization makes my throat tight. All this time I’ve been worried about being too needy, too omega, and here he is—successful, confident, strong—unashamedly seeking comfort, too. His fingertips trace absent patterns on my shoulder, and I can feel the slight tremor in them, the way he’s holding himself carefully still, like he’s afraid I’ll pull away.
I let myself relax further into his embrace, and feel the way his breath catches, the way his own tension eases in response. Two omegas finding shelter in each other, no pretenses needed.
Is that why the Academy kept us apart? I’d never met another omega at that place except for Vi, and that was by accident.
At the thought of her, my chest feels tight for a whole other reason now. I wonder if she’s alright. Wonder if she found food. Shelter. Or if she’s still out there running. Did the Academy catch her? Did she have to go back? Or is she free?
The unease starts to build so much that I start to tremble again. Finn pulls me closer, still thinking I’m cold.
“Here, come closer.”
I nod against his shoulder, fighting to push the painful thoughts away and focusing on breathing in that intoxicating scent of sage and rain. My whole body feels like it’s humming, every nerve ending alive with awareness of him. The solid warmth of his chest against my side. The gentle rise and fall of his breathing. The way his fingers absently trace patterns on my shoulder through the blanket.
On screen, some alpha is raging about broken rules and lost money, but I can barely focus. All I can think about is the point of contact between us, the way my skin tingles where he touches me. My heart is racing, but not from fear. This is different. This is….
Oh.
The realization steals my breath. I’m attracted to him. And not in the way they taught us at the Academy—to serve our master. To be a proper omega bound to submission. This is something else entirely. Something that makes me want to press closer, to taste his skin, to…
“Hungry?”
I startle at his question, irrationally afraid he can somehow read my thoughts. “What?”
“You just tensed up.” His voice is gentle, concerned. “We slept through the night and didn’t have dinner. You must be hungry…”
“I’m okay,” I say automatically, even as my stomach clenches at the mention of food.
He makes a skeptical sound. “Yeah, that’s not an answer.” Carefully, he shifts to look at me without dislodging our position. “It’s way past breakfast. We should get you some food.”
Panic flares instantly. Food means leaving the nest. Leaving means… “No, really, I’m?—”
“Hailey.” Just my name, but filled with such tender concern it makes something delicate within me shudder. “You need to eat.”
“But…” I glance at the door, fear crawling up my spine.
Understanding dawns in his eyes. “The alphas? They’re probably at work. They usually are during the day.”
Something in his tone makes me look up. There’s a flash of…something in his expression. Hurt maybe? But it’s gone so quickly I might have imagined it.
“I don’t hear anyone moving around,” he continues, head tilted slightly as he listens. “Should be clear.”
I want to ask about that hint of pain in his voice, but anxiety overwhelms the impulse. “You’re sure?”
“Pretty sure.” He starts to withdraw his arm and I have to stop myself from clutching at him. “Come on. I make a mean grilled cheese.”
The loss of his warmth is immediate and jarring. I watch him stand, trying not to stare at the way his muscles move under his shirt. It’s wrong.
He extends a hand to help me up, and I take it without thinking. His palm is warm against mine, fingers curling around my smaller hand with that same careful strength he shows in everything.
That’s when I notice it. The slight awkwardness in his movements, the way he angles his body away from me. There’s something…different. A bulge in his pants that wasn’t there before. Heat floods my cheeks as understanding flickers at the edges of my consciousness—not complete understanding, but enough to make my pulse race.
He releases my hand quickly, too quickly, and turns away. “I’ll…I just gotta wash up a little,” he says, voice rougher than usual. Is he embarrassed? Ashamed? The thought of Finn being anything less than completely in control seems impossible, yet there’s a tension in his shoulders I’ve never seen before.
My mind spins, thoughts tumbling over each other in a confused rush as I watch him hurry to the bathroom. My thoughts swirl around that bulge in his pants, and suddenly I’m nine again, standing in the hallway of my old house, wondering why Ma always locks herself away when the alphas visit.
I’d noticed it then too—the way their pants would strain at the front before they entered that room. Back then, I hadn’t understood. It took years to. Until that one afternoon when I’d gotten home early from school and the door wasn’t locked. The sight had been brief—Ma scrambling to cover herself, the alpha cursing—but it had been enough. Enough to connect the dots about what happened behind that door. About what that hardness meant. About what males wanted when they got like that.
The memory makes my cheeks burn as I think about Finn in the bathroom.
Does this mean…does Finn want to do that with me? The very idea sends a shock through my system—equal parts fear and something else. Something warm and electric that I don’t have a name for.
But the fear rises first, familiar and bitter on my tongue. Because at the Academy, everything circled back to this, too. Mating. Being the perfect breeding vessel for whatever alpha, whatever master, claimed us. Every lesson, every punishment, every reward was aimed at that singular goal. Had I merely traded one training ground for another? Was Finn being kind just because he…because he wants that from me?
No . The thought rises fierce and certain, even as my hands tremble. This isn’t the Academy. Finn isn’t like that. He’s an omega. Omegas can be trusted. After all, they’re the only designation that hasn’t hurt me in some way. Plus, if Finn wanted to mate with me, he wouldn’t need elaborate schemes or careful manipulation. He’s stronger than me, omega or not. He could simply take what he wanted.
That makes a bitter taste grow at the back of my throat and I push that thought away, too. He wouldn’t do that either.
The fact that he’s trying to hide his…reaction…proves that. He’s embarrassed, trying to protect me from any discomfort.
But can omegas even mate? Together? The question surfaces unbidden, making me flush harder. The Academy never mentioned such a possibility—but then, they never mentioned male omegas either. Everything I learned there is like a foundation built on shifting sand.
In the bathroom, I hear Finn moving around, the sound of water running a counterpoint to my racing thoughts. Part of me wants to follow him, to see if his scent has changed with his…condition. Would he smell different? More intense? The curiosity burns in my belly, making me squirm.
I press my hands to my burning cheeks, mortified by the direction of my thoughts. What am I even doing? Finn has a pack—a real pack, with strong alphas who want him. Who probably already… My stomach clenches at the thought. Of course, they would. For one, Stone is nothing like the masters that came to the Academy, and from what Finn has let slip, his other two alphas aren’t either. They probably mate with him very often. He’s beautiful and kind and everything an omega should be. My cheeks grow ev en hotter, images flashing into my mind even though I know I shouldn’t be thinking these forbidden things.
Here I am, spinning fantasies about him like some love-struck fool just because he got…got hard. It probably doesn’t even mean anything. Maybe it’s just some normal male omega thing I don’t understand. The Academy kept us so ignorant about our own biology, about anything that didn’t directly serve their purposes. There could be a hundred innocent explanations for what I saw, and here I am building castles in the air like a child.
I take a deep breath, willing my racing heart and flushed cheeks to calm.
I force myself to sit back down, pulling the blanket around my shoulders. It still smells like him—sage and rain and that sweet undertone I’m only noticing now. My body responds to it in ways I don’t fully understand, ways the Academy never prepared me for. There’s a warmth building low in my belly, a restless energy in my limbs.
Is this what desire feels like? Real desire, not like the training at the Academy where I was taught to whimper and keen on command. These are dangerous, confusing feelings. And it’s all happening at lightning speed. Too fast for me to grab hold of my own thoughts and reason things out. Almost like something else is at play here that I have no control over.
I’m biting my nails, thoughts going awry when the bathroom door opens.
The bulge is gone and Finn is smiling. He motions at the door as he claps his hands together.
“Right, let’s go get some grub.”
He takes my hand in his, tugging me from the blankets as we move toward the door together, and I realize he’s positioned himself slightly in front of me.
The hallway seems longer than I remember, each step taking us further from the safety of the nest. Finn keeps hold of my hand, thumb brushing soothingly across my knuckles. The touch grounds me, keeps the rising panic at bay.
Until we reach the top of the stairs.
Finn freezes so suddenly I almost run into him. His whole body goes rigid the same moment I catch the scent—cedar and distinctly alpha. My stomach drops as I peer around him.
A man stands at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at us. He’s tall—taller than Finn. Solidly built. Dark straight hair in a crew cut, sharp cheekbones, and eyes so dark they look almost black in the lighting. Handsome in that classical way that makes my skin crawl with remembered pain.
“Finn.” His voice is deep, resonant. Not angry, but something else I can’t read.
Every instinct screams at me to drop to my knees. To show submission before I’m forced to. The training is so deeply ingrained I can feel my legs starting to buckle.
But Finn’s arm hooks through mine, keeping me upright. The gesture looks casual, but I can feel the strength in his grip. Feel the way he shifts subtly, putting more of his body between me and the alpha.
“Jax.” Finn’s voice is steady, but there’s an edge to it I haven’t heard before. “Thought you’d be at work.”
The moment Jax’s gaze shifts from Finn to me, every lesson from the Academy slams back into place. My heart lurches so hard I gasp, each beat hammering against my ribs so hard I’m sure they will break. My eyes drop immediately to the floor, shoulders hunching as I try to make myself smaller. Less noticeable. Less of a target.
“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?” The alpha—Jax’s—tone is carefully neutral, but there’s something underneath it that makes my pulse race even harder.
I’m in his house. I was in his omega’s nest. He’s probably wondering where the hell I came from and what I’m doing here in their safe space .
“No.” Finn’s response surprises me enough that I jerk my gaze from the floor to him. The arm linked through mine tightens slightly.
The silence that follows feels charged, heavy with unspoken words. I drop my gaze again, studying the hardwood beneath my feet through lowered lashes, noting the way the grain creates subtle patterns. Anything to avoid looking up. To avoid meeting that dark gaze I can feel burning into me.
“Finn…” There’s a warning in Jax’s voice now and my fear spikes for Finn. His alpha will punish him and it will all be because of me. I shouldn’t have stayed. I should have left when?—
“We’re just getting breakfast.” Finn’s thumb strokes across my knuckles. “Nothing to discuss.” The fact he ignores the alpha’s warning sends a strange sort of chill down my spine. I can’t even breathe, waiting to see what will happen next, even as my mind creates the most horrible narratives.
When I sense movement at the bottom of the stairs—a slight shift of weight, the rustle of fabric—every muscle in my body tenses, waiting for…I’m not sure what. Punishment maybe. Commands. Something .
But Finn is already moving, guiding me toward the first step. My knees lock, refusing to cooperate. The thought of walking past an alpha, of being within reaching distance…
“Hey.” Finn’s voice is soft, meant just for me. When I dare to glance up, he’s smiling—that bright, genuine smile that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners. “I make a mean grilled cheese, remember? Can’t let it go to waste.”
His casual tone, the normalcy of it, creates a strange disconnect with the tension thrumming through the air. I want to believe in that smile, in the safety it promises. But years of conditioning scream at me to kneel, to show proper respect before the alpha grows angry—no, angrier .
“I should…” The words catch in my throat as I try to pull away, to assume the position I was taught .
“You should come help me cook,” Finn says firmly, not letting me retreat. “I need someone to tell me if I’m using too much butter.”
A sound that might be a snort comes from the bottom of the stairs. “There’s no such thing as too much butter.”
The comment is so unexpectedly normal it makes me blink. Through my lashes, I catch glimpses of Jax as Finn begins leading me down the stairs. He’s stepped back, giving us space. His posture appears to be relaxed, hands loose at his sides—not threatening, but still undeniably powerful. But there’s tension in his shoulders. I can see it.
We’re halfway down the stairs when another scent hits me—pine, followed immediately by sandalwood. My legs nearly give out completely as two more figures appear in the entryway below.
Stone.
I recognize him immediately, my eyes widening before darting back to the floor even though I want to stare. The dim light in the cabin had given me a good idea of what he looked like but here, in the bright sunlight now streaming through the windows, I can see Stone—the first alpha who showed me kindness—with painful clarity. His chestnut hair catches the morning light, and when he shifts, those remarkable eyes flash amber, like honey held up to the sun. The strong line of his jaw is tense, and that pine scent—the first scent I’d breathed in as a free omega—wraps around me like a warm cozy blanket.
Finn’s arm is still linked through mine, solid and steady. Without it, I’m certain my knees would have already hit the floor. Jax’s cedar scent mingles with Stone’s pine and the other alpha’s sandalwood, making my head spin with fear…and something else.
Stone stands there looking up at us, his expression unreadable. Beside him, an even taller alpha with dark curly hair watches the scene unfold. When I dare to glance toward him, ice-blue eyes that look like they belong on a wolf rather than a human being pierce right through me. The rage I see there makes me stop breathing— raw, primal fury that speaks of violence barely contained. My heart stutters in my chest as I quickly lower my gaze again. I’ve seen that look before, in betas’ eyes when my blindfold would slip in the early days. Right before the worst punishments would come. Right before they?—
Finn’s arm tightens around mine, drawing me slightly closer to his side. The gesture is subtle but clear—he won’t let them hurt me. But even his steady presence can’t completely quell the terror rising in my throat.
Three alphas. Three of them. My vision starts to blur at the edges.
“Finn.” Stone’s voice is low, careful. Like he’s trying not to spook a wild animal. “We need to talk.”
“Do we?” Finn keeps moving, each step measured and deliberate, keeping me close. His voice is light but there’s steel underneath. “Because I think what we need is breakfast.”
“Finn—” The other alpha, the one with the fury in his eyes, takes a step forward.
“Careful,” Finn cuts him off, the word sharp enough to make me flinch. “You’re blocking the hall.”
I’ve never heard an omega speak like this and I discreetly slide my gaze to Finn again. His chin is held high and there’s a coldness in his eyes. For a moment, I wonder if I’ve been mistaken this whole time and he isn’t really an omega at all.
The tension in the air thickens until it feels hard to breathe. I keep my eyes fixed on Finn’s shoulder, trying to make myself invisible even as I’m painfully aware of every alpha gaze fixed on us. On me.
“Finn, we need to talk. You can’t just—” Jax begins.
“Watch me.”
The challenge in Finn’s voice makes my heart stutter. He’s going to get himself hurt. They’re going to punish him. And it will be my fault. All my fault. He’s been so kind to me. I can’t let them hurt him. Even if it means I’ll be punished myself, I can’t? —
“Hey.” Finn’s voice drops to a whisper meant only for me. “Stay with me. Almost there.”
Each step feels like walking through quicksand. Finn keeps up a steady stream of chatter about different cheese combinations and the proper technique for achieving the perfect golden-brown crust. His voice wraps around me like a shield, giving me something to focus on besides the alphas’ presence.
“…and some people swear by mayonnaise on the outside instead of butter, but that’s just wrong,” he’s saying as we reach the bottom step. “I mean, technically it works, but where’s the joy in that?”
We’re closer to the alphas now, close enough that their scents fill my lungs with each shallow breath. And I realize something.
The scents…fresh and coming directly from them…they’re different from what I expected. Cleaner somehow. Less aggressive than the masters that visited the Academy. But still distinctly alpha, still making my instincts flutter with the need to submit.
“The joy is in not having to scrub burnt butter off the pan,” Jax says dryly, but there’s something careful in his tone. Like he’s trying to maintain this facade of normalcy even as tension radiates from him in waves.
Finn’s jaw ticks, almost as if he wants to ignore what was just said. But then he glances down at me and smiles. “That’s what steel wool is for.” He tugs gently at my hand. “Come on, I’ll show you my secret weapon—garlic powder in the butter. Changes everything.”
As we walk between the three alphas to reach the kitchen, my entire body trembles with the effort of staying upright, of not falling to my knees. Through my lowered lashes, I catch glimpses: Stone’s strong jaw and amber eyes, Jax’s full lips pressed into a thin line, and those piercing ice-blue eyes that seem to strip away every defense. All watching us intently.
No, watching me .
My steps falter .
“Almost there,” Finn murmurs encouragingly. His thumb hasn’t stopped its soothing motion across my knuckles. “Just a few more steps.”
We’re nearly at the kitchen threshold when all three alphas move at once. Stone takes a half-step forward, Jax shifts to block the doorway, and the blue-eyed alpha’s scent spikes with something dangerous.
“A word, Finn.” It’s the one named Jax who speaks, his deep voice carefully controlled. “Now.”
“Food first.” Finn’s tone remains light, but there’s steel beneath it. “Everything else can wait.”
Something shifts in the air between them—some silent communication I can’t interpret. The bond between alpha and omega is almost tangible in this moment, crackling with unspoken words.
Finally, Jax sighs. “At least let me help with the?—”
“No.” Finn’s response is immediate but not unkind. “We’ve got this covered.” A pause, then softer: “Please, Jax.”
Another heavy silence. I keep my eyes fixed on the floor, heart hammering so loud I’m sure they can all hear it. This feels dangerous—an omega denying his alpha. Everything I learned at the Academy screams that this will end in pain.
But when Jax speaks again, his voice holds only resignation. “We’ll be right out here.” A pause, then, with quiet emphasis: “If you need anything.”
Footsteps shuffle across the hardwood, not retreating far—just enough to give us space. Some of the tension bleeds from Finn’s shoulders, but he doesn’t speak until the alphas settle into what sounds like the sitting area just beyond the kitchen doorway.
“Sorry about that,” he says quietly, finally leading me into the kitchen. “I should have checked if they were still here before bringing you down.”
I want to tell him it’s okay, that he doesn’t need to apologize, but my voice seems locked somewhere in my chest. My hands are shaking so badly that when he finally releases them to move toward the refrigerator, I have to grip the counter to stay steady.
“He won’t hurt you.” Finn’s voice is gentle as he starts gathering ingredients. “None of them will. I know that’s hard to believe right now, but it’s true.”
I watch him move around the kitchen with easy familiarity, trying to reconcile what I just witnessed with everything I thought I knew about alpha-omega dynamics. Finn stood his ground. Denied his alphas. Protected me.
And they…let him.
“How…” My voice comes out barely above a whisper. “How did you do that?”
Finn pauses in buttering bread to look at me. “Do what?”
“Stand up to them. Talk back. You weren’t…afraid.”
Something sad flickers across his features. “Oh, honey. Is that what you saw?” He sets down the butter knife, turning to face me fully. “I was terrified. Still am, a little. But not because of Jax—because of this whole situation. Because I don’t want to hurt anyone, but I also won’t…”
He frowns now, still looking at me but with a faraway look seeping into his eyes.
“Won’t what?” I dare.
Finn blinks, eyes coming back to present reality. He shakes his head. “I don’t…I don’t know why I feel so strongly about this. But I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
The simple declaration makes my eyes burn. “But they’re your alphas.”
“Yes.” Finn’s smile is gentle. “But that doesn’t make them my masters.” The word makes me stiffen, breaths feeling strangled as Finn continues. “It doesn’t give them the right to control me. To control either of us.”
I stare at him, trying to process this completely foreign concept.
“Here.” He holds out a slice of bread. “Help me with these? It’s harder to overthink when your hands are busy. ”
Slowly, I move to join him at the counter. He shows me how much butter to spread, how to sprinkle the garlic powder just so. His movements are sure, practiced, and I find myself mimicking them without conscious thought.
“They’ll probably want to talk eventually,” he says after a while, carefully laying cheese on the bread. “About how you got here. About…everything. I admit, I still have some questions, too.” He glances at me. “But not until you’re ready. I won’t let them push you.”
The bread trembles in my hands. “What if I’m never ready?”
“Then we’ll deal with that, too.” He bumps his arm gently against mine. “One grilled cheese at a time.”
The kitchen fills with the sound of butter sizzling, cheese melting, bread turning golden brown. Finn keeps up a steady stream of commentary about optimal flip timing and the importance of pressing down just enough but not too much.
And if my hands still shake slightly as I help him plate the sandwiches, he doesn’t mention it. Just slides one in front of me with that bright smile that makes his eyes crinkle, and starts telling me about the time he accidentally used ghost pepper cheese and “nearly killed poor Stone.”
I find myself leaning into his warmth as he talks, letting his presence anchor me in this strange new reality where omegas can say no to alphas, where kindness doesn’t come with conditions, where safety might actually be possible.