27. Finn
Chapter 27
Finn
I can sense them hovering at the edges of the room, my alphas, their scents thick with concern and confusion. Any other time, I might care. Might feel guilty about shutting them out, about the warning glare I’d given them as I passed. But right now, all I can focus on is the small form curled against my chest, her breathing still hitching occasionally from crying.
The movie plays on the screen—some lightweight comedy I’d chosen hoping to lift her spirits—but I haven’t processed a single scene. Instead, I’m hyperaware of every tiny movement Hailey makes. The way she flinches slightly at sudden sounds. How she keeps her limbs tucked tight, making herself smaller, even as she presses closer to me. The slight tremor that still runs through her body every few minutes.
I adjust the blanket, tucking it more securely around her shoulders. She makes a soft sound—something between appreciation and distress—and burrows deeper against me. The trust in that simple movement makes something ache deep inside me.
“You’re safe,” I murmur, the words slipping out before I can stop them. My hand moves to her hair almost of its own accord, fingers carding gently through the soft strands. “I’ve got you. ”
She doesn’t respond verbally, but I feel some of the tension leave her body. Her scent grows calmer. Sweeter.
Everything she revealed in the kitchen plays through my mind again, making my jaw clench. That fucking Academy. Even worse, her fucking useless pieces-of-shit parents. The very thought makes my blood boil.
I force myself to relax as Hailey stirs, responding unconsciously to my anger. This isn’t about me or my rage. This is about making her feel secure. Protected.
A sound behind us—one of the alphas shifting position—makes her tense again. My arms tighten instinctively around her, and I shoot another warning look toward the doorway. I catch a glimpse of Jax’s broad shoulders retreating further into shadow. Good. They can hover all they want, but they need to stay back. Give her space.
Give us space, some part of me whispers. The thought surprises me. I’ve never been territorial with other omegas before—never felt this fierce need to protect, to shelter. But something about Hailey calls to something deep inside me. Maybe it’s her vulnerability, or the way she looked at me in the kitchen like I was offering her the world instead of just grilled cheese.
She shifts against me, one hand curling into my shirt. The movement draws my attention back to her face, and my breath stills in my nose. In the soft glow from the window, she looks almost ethereal. Dark lashes resting against pale cheeks, lips slightly parted, the tension finally easing from her features as exhaustion takes over. Beautiful, my mind supplies unhelpfully. She’s beautiful.
I shouldn’t be noticing that. Should be focusing on keeping her safe, helping her heal, and figuring out what the hell happened to her. But I can’t stop cataloging details—the delicate curve of her jaw, the way her hair falls across her forehead, the subtle sweetness of her scent that seems to wrap around me like…
“Cold?” I ask softly when she shivers, using the excuse to pull her closer. She’s practically in my lap now, tucked between my legs with her head resting against my chest. The position should feel awkward or inappropriate. Instead, it feels right in a way I don’t want to examine too closely.
Time seems to slow, marked only by the steady rise and fall of her breathing against my chest. The movie plays on, forgotten background noise as shadows lengthen across the floor. Her weight settles more fully against me as exhaustion gradually wins over her tension. I find myself memorizing every detail—the way her fingers occasionally twitch where they’re curled in my shirt, how her breath whispers across my collarbone, the subtle way her scent mingles with mine.
The house feels…different with her here. Warmer. More intimate. My own breathing slows to match hers, and I catch myself drifting, conscious thought giving way to sensation. The softness of her hair beneath my fingers. The delicate curve of her shoulder under my other hand. The way she fits perfectly against me, as if she was meant to be here.
I don’t remember closing my eyes.
When they open again, the room is bathed in the golden light of late afternoon. My first awareness is warmth—her body still pressed against mine, but somehow closer. During our sleep, she’s shifted to lie more fully on top of me, her face now tucked into my neck. Her breath fans hot against my skin with each exhalation.
The second awareness hits like lightning through my veins. I’m hard. Achingly so. And with her positioned like this…
I swallow hard, trying to control my breathing. Trying not to focus on how perfectly she fits against me, how her scent has deepened into something richer, how her lips are practically brushing my throat. This isn’t right. She’s vulnerable, traumatized. The last thing she needs is…
She stirs slightly, making a soft sound that sends heat coursing through me. My hands clench into fists at my sides, fighting the urge to pull her closer.
Her movement stills, but now I’m aware of every inch of her skin against mine. The weight of her slight frame pressing me into the couch cushions. The way her chest rises and falls against mine. One of her hands has slipped beneath my shirt during our sleep, resting warm against my ribs. The position is innocently intimate in a way that makes me almost whine. It’s been so long since I’ve been touched that the sensation sends fireworks right through me.
Breath hitching, I freeze when I hear a slight shift near the door. Someone walking past. The footsteps slow as they near the sitting room and I know it’s one of the others watching. Probably all still hovering there since earlier. A surge of bitterness rises in my throat, sharp enough to taste. Now they’re here. Now they’re concerned. Where were they all those nights I paced these halls alone, drowning in silence? All those times I needed them, needed anything to fill the emptiness that threatened to swallow me whole? But one pretty little omega shows up and suddenly they’re constant shadows, watching, hovering, acting like they’ve always been this attentive.
The anger mingles with the desire still thrumming through my veins, almost making me dizzy. Making it harder to think clearly with her warm weight pressed against me, her scent filling my lungs with every breath.
I should wake her. Should carefully extract myself before this gets more complicated. But she looks so peaceful, features softened by sleep, completely relaxed against me after she opened up and told me so much about her past. The trust in that vulnerability makes something ache in my chest even as it sends heat coiling through my belly.
She shifts again, and this time her lips definitely brush my throat. A small sound escapes me before I can stop it. Her scent spikes in response—sweetening, warming—and I realize with a jolt that she’s not entirely asleep anymore. Her breathing has changed, become more deliberate. But she doesn’t move away. If anything, she presses closer, her fingers flexing against my skin like she’s seeking something she can’t name .
“Hailey,” I manage, my voice rougher with exactly the thing I don’t want her to hear. Her name is a warning? A question? I’m not even sure anymore.
She lifts her head slowly, and my breath hitches. Her eyes are dark, heavy-lidded, cheeks flushed with sleep and something else. She blinks several times as I come into focus, cheeks rosy as her lips part. Warm rays of sunlight catch in her hair, and god help me, but I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.
The thought makes me hate myself a little.
A shiver goes through her and I’m about to tighten the blanket across her shoulders when her sweet scent intensifies. I almost groan. She’s perfuming. That telltale sweetness that means an omega is experiencing arousal. It’s like a smoke signal, a message meant for alphas, not for another omega like me. Yet here I am, responding as if I have any right to these feelings, as if I’m not betraying everything by wanting her.
Shit. I hadn’t even thought to ask about her cycle. The realization sends ice through my veins even as my body burns hotter. Jax and Stone and Ren…an omega in pre-heat would be impossible for them to ignore. But what terrifies me more is that I can’t ignore it either. Each breath of her deepening scent makes my cock throb, makes something primal in me want to roll her beneath me and—God, my mates deserve better than this. Than me fantasizing about someone else while their bond marks still burn on my skin.
I’m so hard, I’m sure she can feel it pressing into her, and no amount of imagining unsavory things is helping. She squirms slightly, her body responding to signals she probably doesn’t understand, seeking friction she doesn’t even know she needs.
Stop this. Calm down, Finn. This isn’t right. These thoughts are wrong .
What’s worse is that I shouldn’t be responding like this at all. I’m an omega . Her scent shouldn’t affect me this way, shouldn’t be making me respond in kind. Because that’s what’s happening—I’m perfuming too, my scent rising to meet hers like we’re meant to match. Like we’re…
The thought stops me cold. Her scent isn’t just compatible, it’s perfect . It carries that indefinable quality, that bone-deep recognition that says mine . But that’s impossible. I’m already mated—and I’m an omega!
The bond marks on my neck seem to burn with accusation. Three alphas who chose me, who trusted me, and here I am responding to another omega like some kind of deviant.
Yet I can’t deny how she smells like belonging, like home, like she was made to fit into the empty spaces in my life. Spaces that shouldn’t exist, not when I have three mates. But god help me, they do exist—have existed, I realize now, even before things started falling apart.
An omega forming a bond with another omega? It doesn’t make sense. What would it even mean for Ren, Jax, and Stone? The implications are staggering. But FUCK, I want her. Want her in ways that make me question everything I thought I knew about myself, about what I am.
The thought sends a nervous chill through me. The last time I felt like this was at that charity gala when I met Ren. Back when everything made sense, when I still believed in fairy tales about perfect matches and happily ever afters. I must be going fucking crazy to even consider that this isn’t just loneliness and touch starvation that are causing me to?—
“Finn?” Hailey whispers, eyelids still fluttering, her brows knitting slightly.
“Hey,” I murmur, one hand moving to cup her jaw. Her skin is feverishly warm against my palm. She leans into the touch instinctively, those wide eyes searching mine with a mix of confusion and something deeper, more primal. Something she clearly doesn’t understand as her body responds to cues she’s probably never felt before. The innocence in her expression makes my guilt sharper, heavier .
The scent of cedar drifts stronger from the hallway. Jax. He’s lingering, probably picking up on the change in our combined scents. I should care. Should stop this before it goes any further. But Hailey’s looking at me like I’m something precious and dangerous all at once, and I can’t remember why I’m supposed to resist this magnetic pull between us. Can’t remember my own name when she’s trembling against me like this.
“I…” she starts, then stops, biting her lip. The gesture draws my attention to her mouth. “I feel…hot.” Her voice is small, uncertain. She thinks she’s getting sick? A fever? She probably doesn’t even realize she’s rocking slightly against me, seeking relief from sensations she’s probably never been allowed to experience before.
“I know,” I breathe, because I do. This shouldn’t be possible, this electric connection between two omegas. And yet here we are, her body melting against mine like she belongs there, her scent wrapping around me like silk. Like a promise I have no right to make, not when I’m already bound to others. The mate bonds on my neck pulse with awareness, and still I can’t stop.
Hailey’s breath hitches as my thumb traces her lower lip, feather-light. She’s trembling, but not from fear. No, this is something else entirely—desire she doesn’t recognize, need she can’t name. The air between us feels thick, charged with possibility and guilt in equal measure.
“Finn,” she whispers again, and this time my name sounds like a question and an answer both. Her fingers curl into my shirt, tangling in the fabric like she needs an anchor. Like she’s drowning in sensations she doesn’t understand. “I…I don’t feel like myself. I think I’m coming down with something. I think I’m sick.”
The statement breaks something in me. Because I know exactly what’s happening—her first awakening, triggered by whatever impossible connection exists between us. And I should be the last person to guide her through this. Should get up right now and walk away before I destroy the fragile trust she’s placed in me.
My eyes shift over her head, catching Jax’s gaze from the doorway. I don’t have to explain what’s happening. He already knows. He can smell it.
His throat moves as he watches us, and for a moment, the weight of his stare pins me in place. This is wrong. We both know it’s wrong. He should be dragging me away from her, not standing there with that unreadable expression. But then his eyes soften with understanding, and he gives me a slight nod.
The permission in that gesture throws me. Jax has always been the voice of reason between us, the one who pulls us back from the edge. But now…now he’s telling me to jump. My grip tightens on Hailey’s waist as uncertainty wars with need. One heartbeat. Two. Then something in his steady gaze settles the storm in my chest.
I lean closer, drawn by some force stronger than conscience or reason. “Tell me to stop,” I whisper against her lips, giving her one last chance to save us both. But she doesn’t. Instead, she makes this soft, desperate sound that undoes the last of my restraint.
When our lips finally meet, it’s like touching a live wire. She freezes for just a moment before melting into the kiss with a whimper that shoots straight through me. She tastes like possibility and redemption and sin all at once.
The first taste of her is devastating. Sweet, addictive, like honeyed wine on my tongue. She responds with innocent enthusiasm, following my lead as I guide her through the kiss. When I trace her bottom lip with my tongue, she gasps, and the sound shoots straight through me.
My hand tightens in her hair, angling her head to deepen the kiss further. She opens for me beautifully, trustingly, and I groan at the wet slide of her tongue against mine. Her inexperience is obvious in the best possible way—every reaction pure and unfiltered. If this is her first kiss, I make an oath right here and now to make it good. When I suck gently on her tongue, she whimpers and presses closer, her hips rolling unconsciously against mine.
The movement sends sparks of pleasure through my already aching cock. Her scent is deepening by the second, that sweetness taking on notes of arousal that make my head spin. I can smell the first hints of her slick, and gods help me, but I want to taste her there, too. Want to spread her open and lap at her until she’s crying my name, want to drink down every drop of her pleasure until?—
I wrench my thoughts back from that dangerous edge, but it’s too late. The image is seared into my brain, making my cock throb painfully against the confines of my sweatpants. Making my own entrance clench as my tip weeps with want.
She breaks the kiss with a gasp, panting against my mouth. Her pupils are blown wide, lips swollen and wet. The sight of her like this—debauched from just my kisses—makes something possessive and feral rise in my chest.
“Finn,” she breathes, and her voice has taken on a needy quality that tests my already fragile control. “I’m sorry, I…”
I don’t even care that I whimper. It’s high, piercing the stillness in the room as it escapes my throat. “No.” I run the tip of my tongue across my lower lip. “Don’t apologize.”
She whimpers too, looking lost. “I don’t know…I need…”
I know exactly what she needs. She needs someone to take care of her. To guide her through this. To make her feel so good, she forgets her own name.
She needs to be touched. She needs me to spread her open, to taste every inch of her until she’s begging for more. She needs me to push her past the edge, to show her how good it can feel when she lets go.
I swallow hard, eyes unable to leave hers as these scandalous thoughts fill my mind. All those times I’ve handled my own pleasure have obviously done nothing to hold back this mountain of sexual tension I’ve been holding back for months. Because I can feel the heat radiating off her. The scent of her slick is growing thicker, sweeter, and it’s driving me insane. I can’t stop now, not when she’s looking at me like that—wide-eyed, needy, and so fucking ready.
I’d start slow, kissing her everywhere. Her neck, her shoulders, trailing lower until I’m on my knees in front of her. Until I have my tongue on her, tasting how wet she is for me. I’d make her come just like that—my mouth on her, my tongue deep inside her, drinking every drop of her going down my throat while she screams my name.
Her fingers dig into my shoulders, her nails biting through the fabric of my shirt as she shudders against me. “Finn…” she breathes, her voice a broken plea.
I take a deep breath, my eyes still locked onto hers. When she’s shaking, when she thinks she can’t take any more, I’d lay her down and fuck her slow. So slow she’d feel every inch of me stretching her, filling her, making her mine.
Oh, my god… what is wrong with me ? The thought crashes through my mind like broken glass. No. What is happening to me? I’ve never had thoughts like this before. Not for anyone except my alphas. Yet here I am, with Hailey in my lap, her scent flooding my senses until I can barely think straight.
And, as if she can read my thoughts, Hailey’s lips part, but no sound comes out. Her cheeks are flushed, her pupils blown so wide her eyes look almost black. The sight of her like this—trusting, innocent, wanting—makes something unhinged stir in my chest.
I lean in again, lips meeting hers, and my whole world erupts. I can only focus on the taste of her, the way she’s clinging to me, the way her hips keep tilting toward mine like she’s desperate for contact she doesn’t even understand. Every hesitant movement, every surprised little gasp against my mouth, pulls me to the edge.
This is madness. I need some control. “I should stop,” I whisper, giving her the chance to pull away. “Tell me you don’t want this, Hailey, and I swear I’ll stop.”
But she doesn’t say anything. Instead, she whimpers against my lips. Her answer is clear, and it’s all the permission I need to deepen the kiss, to?—
A deep intake of breath from the doorway shatters the moment.
Jax’s scent hits me first—cedar and lightning, crackling with an emotion I can’t quite name—and I realize he hadn’t moved. He’d watched it all. Hailey goes rigid in my arms, her entire body freezing like prey at the sight of a predator. Because even though he doesn’t come closer, Jax’s presence fills the room like a storm, making the air thick and heavy with tension.
When I finally force myself to meet his eyes, the expression on his face stops my heart. It’s not rage I see there—rage would be easier to handle. No, what I see is worse: confusion, hurt, and something that looks devastatingly like understanding.
“Alpha,” Hailey whimpers, the word barely a breath. She scrambles off my lap so fast she nearly falls, her face flaming red as the reality of what we’ve done crashes over her. The scent of her fear fills the room, so horribly sour, cutting through the lingering sweetness of our combined arousal.
Jax takes a step forward, probably to try to calm her, but it’s the wrong move. Hailey backs away like a cornered animal, her chest heaving with panicked breaths. Her eyes dart between us, wide with horror and shame.
“Hailey, wait—” I start to reach for her, but she’s already moving, darting past Jax and into the hallway. The sound of her footsteps pounding down the hall echoes through the house.
I try to follow, but Jax’s hand shoots out, gripping my arm with enough force to bruise. “Don’t,” he says, his voice low and dangerous. Through our bond, I can feel the storm of his emotions—pain warring with confusion, anger tangled with something else I can’t quite grasp. Though, it doesn’t feel like either of those emotions are directed at me or Hailey. They’re directed at himself.
I hear the front door open. Ren’s scent—sandalwood now mixed in with smoke—drifts in, but there’s no sound of him trying to stop her. The door slams shut, the sound as final as a gunshot.
“What the fuck , Ren?” Stone’s voice thunders. “Why didn’t you stop her?”
The raw fury in Stone’s voice makes me flinch. Heavy footsteps pound across the foyer, followed by the door flying open again only to slam shut even harder than before. Stone’s going after her. The alpha’s normally steady presence is a maelstrom of rage and worry through our bond.
Jax’s grip on my arm tightens fractionally, and I realize I’ve unconsciously moved toward the door. Toward Hailey. The gesture is barely noticeable, but it makes me inhale sharply.
The bond marks on my neck burn with awareness of all three mates, their emotions crashing through me in waves: Stone’s determination, Ren’s quiet resignation, and Jax’s…Jax’s feelings are too complex to name.
I can hear Stone’s boots pounding against the drive as he heads into the woods, and something in me snaps. Red bleeds into the edges of my vision as I wrench away from Jax’s grip.
“Why the fuck didn’t you stop her, Ren?”
My hands are shaking as I move toward the hall, but Jax steps into my path. The sight of him—all broad shoulders, sharp jaw, and eyes that used to look at me like I was everything—makes something crack in my chest.
“Move.” I don’t recognize my own voice, rough and raw and desperate.
“Finn—” Jax reaches for me, and the gentleness in his gesture is worse than when he’d grabbed me. I knock his hand away hard enough to sting.
“Don’t fucking touch me!” The words tear from my throat like they’ve been waiting there wrapped with barbs. “You don’t get to touch me, not after months of—” I choke on the rest, on all the nights I spent alone in our nest while they worked late, all the times I woke to cold sheets and apologetic notes, all the moments of disconnect, of drift, of slow decay that I’ve watched helplessly, unable to stop it or even understand why it was happening.
The familiar scent of our bedroom—our combined scents that used to mean home and safety and love—suddenly feels suffocating. Like a lie we’ve all been telling ourselves.
“That’s not fair.” Jax’s voice hardens, but there’s that pain again underneath it. “We never meant to shut you out. Things just…happened. We were trying to figure things out, and…”
“Things just…happened?” A harsh laugh escapes me. “Right. You ‘figured things out’ while I was right fucking here, watching you three build your perfect little world without me. And now—” My voice cracks. “Now you want to act like you have the right to stop me from going after her?” I don’t even know what the fuck I’m saying, only that the words are spilling out on their own accord.
“You’re not thinking clearly?—”
“ Fuck you!” I try to dodge around him, but he moves faster than I expect, wrapping his arms around me from behind. The contact is electric, sending sparks of unwanted arousal through my already sensitized body. My cock—still half-hard from Hailey—twitches like a fucking traitor.
“Let me go!” I thrash against him, but he only holds me tighter, pressing me back against his chest. His scent—cedar and lightning and alpha—wraps around me, familiar as breathing and foreign as a stranger’s touch. It used to calm me, this scent. Used to make me feel safe and cherished and wanted. When did that change? When did his touch start feeling like a reminder of everything I was losing?
“Not until you calm down.”
“Calm down?” I laugh again, and it sounds hysterical even to my own ears. “You want me to calm down when she’s out there alone? When she’s scared and confused and—” My voice cracks. “And I did that to her. I kissed her and I scared her and?—”
“And what about us?” Ren’s voice cuts through my spiral.
He stands in the doorway now, smoke and sandalwood rolling off him in waves that make my knees weak. His shoulders fill the frame, blocking any hope of escape, and there’s something in his eyes I’ve never seen before—something wild and desperate and afraid .
“Did you think about us at all while you had your tongue down her throat?”
The words hit like a slap. Shame and defiance war in my chest, making it hard to breathe. “Like you care,” I spit, tasting salt—tears or sweat, I’m not sure anymore. “Like any of you have cared what I do for months.”
“That’s bullshit, Finn, and you know it.” Ren takes a step forward, his eyes flashing cold in a way that makes the omega in me want to bare my throat. But I’m done submitting. Done pretending. Done watching everything I love slip through my fingers. He moves closer, each step deliberate. “We’ve been trying?—”
“Trying what?” The words rip out of me. “To push me away? To make me feel like I don’t belong? Well congratu-fucking-lations, you’ve succeeded!” My voice cracks on the last word, and I hate how broken I sound. Hate how the tears are starting to blur my vision.
Something in Jax’s grip changes, becomes desperate rather than restraining. His fingers dig into my hips, pressing me against him. “Finn, stop. Please.”
That ‘please’ undoes me. Jax doesn’t beg. Doesn’t plead. He’s our rock, our steady ground, our voice of reason. But he sounds wrecked now, like he’s the one coming apart.
“Why?” I demand, but it comes out more like a sob. “So we can go back to pretending everything’s fine? So you can all keep your secrets while I watch everything fall apart? While I lie awake at night trying to figure out what I did wrong? What changed? Why you all suddenly decided I wasn’t enough?—”
“They think she’s our mate!” Ren roars.
The words hit me like a punch in the gut. I go still in Jax’s arms, certain I’ve misheard. The room seems to tilt on its axis, and suddenly there’s not enough air. “What?”
“She is our mate,” Jax says quietly against my neck, and each word falls like a hammer blow. “Our scent match. All of us.”
The world stops .
Just…stops.
My body goes numb, starting from where Jax’s words hit my skin and spreading outward like frost. The room seems to shrink and expand at the same time, the familiar walls of our TV room becoming strange and threatening. Photos on the walls blur into meaningless shapes, memories I can’t quite grasp anymore.
“That’s not…that’s not possible.” The words come out thin, reedy, like they’re traveling a great distance to reach my lips.
But even as I say it, pieces start clicking into place with the terrible precision of a lock being picked. The way her scent called to me—sweet and dark and perfect. The instant connection that felt like recognizing something I’d been searching for my whole life. The desperate need to protect her that went beyond basic instinct. The way my body responded to her presence like I was dying and she was the cure.
But…wait. Omegas don’t scent match to other omegas. What I’m thinking about isn’t possible. And then, like a knife sliding between my ribs, another realization hits.
If she’s their true mate—their scent match—then what am I?
The question opens up a void inside me; a big dark hole in the center of my chest. Two fucking years of memories cascade through my mind, each one taking on a new, horrifying context. All those late nights at the office. All those moments when I caught them looking at each other with something like guilt in their eyes.
My mind spins, trying to make sense of it all.
The tears increase without warning. My chest heaves with sobs I can’t contain anymore. All these years of drift, of feeling like something was missing…it wasn’t just in my head. It was real. It was this.
I’m not their scent match. I’m just…what? A placeholder? A mistake? Someone they settled for before they found their real mate?
Every touch, every kiss, every ‘I love you’—were they real? Or were we all just going through the motions, trying to force something that was never meant to be?
“Finn?” Jax’s voice sounds different now, thick with something I can’t bear to interpret. He tries to turn me to face him, but I resist, planting my feet. I can’t look at him. Can’t bear to see the truth in his eyes—the realization that must be hitting him just as hard as it’s hitting me.
“Please.” The word comes out broken, shattered like everything else. “Don’t.”
Don’t tell me I’m right. I…I can’t bear it.
Through the blur of tears, I see Hailey’s face in my mind. The way she’d looked at me with such trust, such innocence. The way she’d trembled under my touch, like something precious and new. And the worst part? Even now, knowing what I know, I can’t find a shred of hatred for her. Not even a spark of resentment. Instead, my traitorous body still aches for her, still wants her, still remembers the perfect way she fit against me.
The irony of it threatens to choke me. Normal pack bonds can be broken—painful but possible. But a scent match? That’s unbreakable. Primal. Written in blood and bone and destiny. This moment marks my expulsion from everything I’ve ever loved, everything I’ve built my life around. And there’s nothing I can do about it.
I’m more broken than I thought possible, because even as my world shatters, even as I face losing the three men who are my everything, I still can’t hate her. The omega who will replace me in their lives, in their nest, in their hearts—and my body betrays me by wanting her too.
“Let me go,” I whisper, and this time there’s no fight in my voice. Just exhaustion.
Just pain.