35. Hailey
Chapter 35
Hailey
T he blankets smell like Finn—soothing sage and safety. I burrow deeper into them, trying to block out the voices rising from downstairs. But even through layers of fabric and floors between us, their anger finds me.
“—could have been killed!” Jax’s voice, sharper than I’ve ever heard it. Something crashes—a door, maybe, or a fist against a wall.
I pull the weighted blanket tighter around my shoulders, focusing on its pressure. The one the older omega recommended. The one Finn insisted on getting, just before everything went wrong.
“We had it under control.” Stone’s voice is quieter but no less intense.
“Under control? Four alphas, Stone. Four. And you left them alone ?—”
“I was gone for two minutes. Two minutes to grab?—”
“Two minutes is all it takes!” Another crash. “You of all people should know how things can change in an instant!”
I flinch, curling tighter into myself. The argument fades for a moment, replaced by murmuring I can’t make out. Then :
“And Finn?” Jax again, his voice deepening on the name. “Did you see his hand? Did you see what he had to do?”
I haven’t seen Finn since we got back. Since Stone carried me upstairs and tucked me into the nest while Finn’s voice drifted up behind us: “I should clean up first…”
His knuckles had been swollen, streaked with the alpha’s blood.
“He protected her.” Stone’s voice has gone dangerously quiet. “He did what he had to do.”
“That’s exactly my point! He shouldn’t have had to do anything! You were supposed to keep them both safe!”
Silence stretches, heavy with unspoken things. Then Jax’s voice again, lower now but somehow worse:
“Maybe Ren isn’t completely wrong about?—”
“Choose your next words very carefully.” Stone’s tone makes me shiver despite the blankets.
“I’m just saying, if Hailey?—”
“This isn’t about her and you know it.”
More murmuring I can’t catch. I strain to hear Finn’s voice among them, to know if he’s okay, if he’s down there defending me or if he regrets what he did. If he hates me now for making him violent.
The argument has faded to murmurs again. I catch fragments: “…need to be more careful…” and “…can’t risk…” and “…not ready…”
They’re right. I’m not ready. Not for stores or choices or a world that’s changed too much while I was locked away. Not for the way that alpha’s touch sent me straight back to the Academy, to white walls and clinical hands and?—
“—can’t keep her locked up forever,” Stone is saying when the voices become clear again. “We’d be just like them at that fucking mystery Academy!”
“No, but we can be smarter about this! We can’t afford mistakes, not with everything else going on. Not with what’s at stake. ”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
But Jax doesn’t answer. Footsteps storm across the floor below, followed by the slam of a door that makes the whole house shudder.
The silence that follows roars in my ears.
I should go down. Should apologize. Should offer to leave—or something . Anything. But my body won’t move, frozen in memories of other loud voices, other punishments that always, always followed.
Somewhere in the house, a door opens and closes more softly. Quiet footsteps on stairs. My heart rate spikes—is someone coming for me? Coming to tell me I have to go?
But the footsteps pass the nest room. A distant click of another door.
I’m alone.
The weighted blanket suddenly feels like it’s suffocating me. I push it away, gasping, but the air is too thin, too cold without it. Like everything else in this new world, I can’t seem to find the right balance between too much and not enough.
A sob catches in my throat. I bite it back, pressing my face into a pillow that smells like Finn. Like his bravery. Like his pain.
I wonder if his hand still hurts.
I wonder if they’re going to send me away.
I wonder if Vi is really out there, fighting back while I hide under blankets and break the people trying to help me.
Another door slams somewhere upstairs. Then silence.
Real silence this time, heavy with all the things they didn’t say. All the fears they didn’t voice. All the questions about whether I’m worth the risk, worth the fight, worth the damage I keep causing to their carefully constructed peace.
I pull the weighted blanket back over me, letting it press me down into the nest that isn’t really mine. That I haven’t earned. That I might lose, just like everything else.
And in the darkness beneath it, I wait for whatever comes next.
The door opens so quietly I almost miss it beneath the blankets. Almost, but not quite—beneath that blindfold at the Academy I’d learned to track every sound, every movement, every potential threat.
But it’s just Finn. I can tell by his scent, though it’s different now. Sharper. Sadder.
He doesn’t come to the nest. Just slides down with his back against the door, knees drawn to his chest. His right hand is wrapped in white gauze, spots of red bleeding through.
I should apologize. The words build in my throat like they always do, automatic as breathing. I’m sorry for causing trouble. I’m sorry you got hurt. I’m sorry I’m not worth what it cost you.
But something stops me. Maybe it’s remembering all the apologies at the Academy, how they were never enough, how there was always something else to be sorry for. Maybe it’s the fact I’ve been telling him sorry ever since I arrived here. Maybe it’s exhaustion. Or maybe it’s the way Finn just sits there, so still and quiet, like he’s carrying something too heavy to move under.
He doesn’t look angry. That’s what finally makes me peek out from the blankets—the realization that there’s no tension in his shoulders, no disappointment in his scent. He just looks…lost. Like he’s drifted too far from shore and can’t quite remember how to swim back.
“Your hand,” I whisper, because it’s easier than all the other things I want to say.
Finn glances at the bandage like he’d forgotten it was there. “Jax wrapped it. Said nothing’s broken, just…” He trails off, flexing his fingers slightly. Wincing.
“I never meant—” The apology tries to surface again, but Finn shakes his head.
“It’s okay, Hailey.” His voice is soft but firm. “Don’t apologize for what that prick did. For what any of them did. ”
“But you had to?—”
“I chose to.” He looks at his hand again, something shifting in his expression. “I punched an alpha.”
He continues staring at his hand, as if he’s back there, in that store, reliving it all.
“Was it…” I swallow hard. “Was it the first time you’ve hit someone?”
A strange smile flickers across his face. “No. I got into fights a lot…back in high school…college… Hard not to when you look like me but you end up being an omega.”
We sit with that for a moment, the weight of it filling the space between us. All those unspoken stories.
“They’re fighting about me,” I finally say, because someone has to say it.
“They’re fighting about a lot of things.” Finn’s head tips back against the door. “You’re just the easiest target right now.”
“Jax thinks?—”
“Jax is scared.” His eyes close. “We all are. But not of you. For you.”
I think about the alpha’s hands on my wrist. About Finn’s knuckles splitting against teeth. About Stone’s voice, deadly calm in the face of violence.
“I don’t want anyone else getting hurt because of me.”
Finn’s laugh is hollow. “Funny thing is, there’s nothing you can do to hurt us, babe. We’re too far gone for that…and I was always the one doing the hurting.” His uninjured hand traces patterns on the floor. “Too aggressive for an omega. Too protective. Too…everything.”
The bitterness in his voice makes me shift closer to the edge of the nest.
“I’ve never been quite right.” His words come slower now, like they’re being pulled from somewhere deep and painful. He laughs again and it’s so bitter it swells with sadness. “Did you know that I have three brothers? Blood brothers. ”
“Omegas?” I whisper.
He grunts another mirthless laugh. “Alphas. All of them. Our mom and dads were proud. But I…I was never what they expected.” He flexes his bandaged hand again, grimacing. “I could pass for an alpha if I bulk up, maybe. I’m as tall if not taller than most betas. But then I’d still have the problem of the relentless heats…craving an alpha’s knot like all the pretty little omegas do.” He grunts again. “Fucked up, isn’t it? I don’t fit in anywhere. And now I’m right back to proving my family right.”
“Finn…”
“You know what one of my dads said when I revealed?” His eyes stay fixed on the floor. “He said ‘well, that explains a lot.’ Like everything that made me wrong finally made sense.” A tremor runs through him. “Like being omega was the flaw that explained all my other flaws.”
Something in my chest aches. Somebody told Finn this? When he’s the most beautiful creature I have ever seen? A sudden anger rises within me. “You’re not flawed.”
“No?” Now he does look up, and the raw pain in his eyes steals my breath. “I punched an alpha today, Hailey. Omegas don’t punch alphas.”
I swallow hard. Maybe he’s right. But I’m not exactly well-versed on being an omega either.
“Soft.” The word drops like stone. “Delicate. Submissive. That’s what a real omega is. Everything I’m not. Everything I can’t be.” His voice cracks. “Everything they deserve in an omega.”
The nest suddenly feels too far away. Before I can think better of it, I’m across the room and sliding down in front of him, drawing him into my arms. He stiffens for a moment, then melts against me like he’s too tired to hold himself up anymore. Finn’s massive frame is heavy as he rests his head on my shoulder, but the sensation of his weight only makes me want him closer.
“You really think that’s what they want?” I ask softly, feeling him tremble. “Those three gorgeous alphas who look at you like you hung the moon?”
“They deserve better.” His words are muffled against my shoulder. “Someone who doesn’t fight. Someone who doesn’t make everything harder. Someone…like you.”
I almost choke on air. As usual, Finn is just being nice.
“Finn, I’ve seen how Stone looks at you. How Jax touches you. Even Ren…” I pause, remembering quiet moments, subtle gestures. “They orbit around you like you’re their center.”
He shakes his head. “That might have been true…once. They’re kind. They take care of broken things.”
“Is that what you think you are? Broken?”
His silence is answer enough.
“You know what I see?” I run my fingers through his hair, feeling him lean into the touch like he’s starving for it. “I see someone strong enough to protect others. Brave enough to fight back.”
A sound catches in his throat—half laugh, half sob. “I punched an alpha, Hailey.”
“You did.” I hold him tighter. “And y-you protected me.”
“ I wanted to kill him .” The words are barely a whisper. “When he touched you, when you screamed…I wanted to destroy him.”
“But you didn’t.”
“Because I’m not strong enough.”
“Because you’re better than that.” I pull back enough to see his face. “Because you’re exactly what an omega should be. Fin, y-you don’t have to be weak to be worthy.”
His eyes are wet when they meet mine. But there’s pride there…and suddenly I hear the words I just said. Words that, a few months ago, I didn’t know I could even believe.
Finn draws a shaky breath. For a moment he just stays there, staring into my eyes. “Sometimes I feel like I’m pretending, Hailey,” he finally whispers. “Like one day they’ll see through me and realize I’m not…I can’t… ”
“Can’t what?”
“Be enough.” The words seem to drain him. “Be right. Be omega enough or strong enough or soft enough or…anything enough.”
I think about the way he stands between me and danger. The way he teaches me about this new world with endless patience. The way three alphas look at him with such devotion.
“Maybe,” I say softly, “you’re exactly enough of everything you’re meant to be.”
He doesn’t answer, but his trembling slowly subsides as I hold him. “I don’t want to crush you,” he whispers.
“You’re not.” I stroke his hair again. “You’re always taking care of everyone else. Let someone take care of you for once.”
He takes a shuddering breath, but he doesn’t pull away.
“Hailey…” he whispers after a few moments. “I need to tell you something.”
I hum softly, still running my fingers through his hair. He seems smaller somehow, curled against me like this, and some part of me revels in it.
“Before you came…” He takes a shaky breath. “Things weren’t good. Between me and them. Hadn’t been for a long time.”
My fingers pause in his hair. “But this morning, you and Stone…”
“Yeah.” His laugh is hollow again. “That’s the first time he’s kissed me in months.” He shifts slightly, but doesn’t pull away. “It’s you, you know. The calm you’ve brought. The hope. Like…like everyone can breathe again.”
“I don’t understand.” I try to pull back to look at him but he holds me tight, as if he prefers to hide his face against my neck. “I—I’ve only caused arguments.”
Finn shakes his head. “You give them something to focus on. Something to protect, to care for.” His voice drops lower. “Something that isn’t me and all my…complications. Something that isn’t the massive gaping hole that is our relationship. ”
A chill runs through me. “Finn?”
“They want you to stay, you know,” he continues whispering. “They want you to stay here.”
I swallow hard. Why would they want me to stay when I’ve been nothing but trouble.
“Promise me you will.” He stiffens slightly, as if waiting for my answer.
I swallow again. “O-only if you want me to stay, too.”
He grips me tighter. “Of course, I want you to stay.” His arms adjust around me as he inhales deeply against my skin. “But once this is all over,” he whispers, “once you’re settled and safe…I won’t be here anymore.”
The words don’t make sense at first. They can’t make sense. “What do you mean, you won’t be here?”
He’s quiet for so long I think he might not answer. When he does, his voice is barely audible. “I’m leaving the Ironwood pack.”
“No.” The word bursts out before I can stop it. “No, you can’t—they love you.”
“They loved who they thought I was.” His fingers play with the edge of his bandage. “Or who they hoped I could be. This gentle, perfect omega who could be everything they needed.” Another bitter laugh. “Look how well that turned out.”
“But they don’t want that. They want you.”
“Do they?” He finally pulls back enough to look at me, his eyes still red-rimmed but dry. “You should have seen Jax’s face today. When I came back with bloody knuckles instead of being the one who needed saving. You heard what they said downstairs.”
“They were scared?—”
“They were right.” His voice cracks. “I’m not…I can’t be what this pack needs. What they need. It’s been clear for two and a half years. And staying here, pretending I can be, it’s killing all of us.”
“Finn.” My hands frame his face, forcing him to look at me. “I think you’re exactly what they need.”
He closes his eyes, leaning into my touch like it hurts. “You don’t understand. These past few days, seeing them be present because of you…it’s reminded me of how things used to be. Before everything went wrong.”
I think about Stone’s hungry kiss this morning. About Jax’s worry. About Ren’s quiet presence, always watching, always aware.
“They wouldn’t survive losing you,” I whisper.
“They already have.” He pulls away, standing on shaky legs. “They lost me the moment things changed between us. And now…” He looks down at his bandaged hand. “Now they have you. Someone who actually needs their protection. Who can be what an omega should be.”
“Finn, no. I don’t want to stay here alone with your alphas.” My heart thumps hard against my ribs, my lungs working overtime to keep up with the demand. “You can’t leave me with them.”
Finn pulls me into him so suddenly that a gasp leaves my throat. His large frame envelops me as his forehead drops to rest against mine. I can feel him trembling.
“I won’t go,” he whispers, “not until I know you’re safe. Not until I know you’ll be okay.”
“No.” I shake my head against his, hands fisting in his shirt. “No, that’s not?—”
“Shh.” His lips brush mine, stealing the protest from my mouth. When he pulls back, just enough to speak, his words ghost across my lips. “Until then…until then, I’m done holding back. Done pretending I don’t feel what I feel.”
“Finn—”
“This might be the last time,” he breathes against my mouth, “that I let myself feel like this. Want like this.” His hands tighten on my waist. “Love like this.”
And before I can argue, before I can beg him to stay, his lips find mine again, and everything else falls away.
Finn’s lips are gentle, but there’s a hopelessness beneath the softness that makes my heart ache. When he moves us toward the nest, it’s with careful steps, like he’s afraid I’ll shatter—or maybe that he will.
“You’re trembling,” I whisper against his mouth.
“I know.” His voice breaks on the words. He lowers us into the nest, and I let him guide me down into the cushions. For someone so large, his touch is impossibly tender. “I can’t seem to stop.”
When he settles over me, his weight pressing me down into the cushions feels better than it should. As if something deep within me calls to be crushed by him. His scent wraps around me, and when I reach up to touch his face, he turns into my palm like he’s freezing and I hold the only warmth.
“Finn…”
“Hailey,” he whispers. “You don’t need this. Not after what happened today.”
I pull him down to me in answer. This kiss makes the world around us melt away. It’s filled with all the words we can’t say. When I thread my fingers through his hair, he makes a sound that’s half sigh, half sob.
Something shifts between us. Finn rolls, taking me with him until I’m straddling his waist, his large hands spanning my ribs. In this position, I can feel the way his chest heaves with uneven breaths.
“You’re crying,” I realize, tasting salt on his lips.
“I’m sorry, I?—”
“It’s okay, Finn.” I kiss away a tear sliding down his jaw. “Don’t apologize.”
My hands move without conscious thought, exploring the planes of his chest, the strong lines of his shoulders. Each touch draws a small sound from him—tiny, broken noises that make me want to hold him closer, keep him safer.
“No one touches me like this anymore,” he breathes, and the confession breaks my heart. “It feels so good, Hailey. It feels…”
My heart is breaking. Breaking for Finn, for this omega who feels like some part of my soul that was cut off and hidden away from me until now.
“I’m not worth this.” He shudders against me.
“You are.” I don’t know what I’m doing. Don’t know if I’m doing any of this right. It’s all instinct. The simple, pure urge to make him feel better. I press my lips to his jaw, his throat, everywhere I can reach. His skin is warm beneath my fingers as they slip under the hem of his shirt. “You’re worth everything.”
He shudders, more tears spilling from beneath closed lids. But I can feel something else too—the way his muscles slowly unlock, the tension bleeding out of him at each point that my fingers touch. The way he’s responding to my touch and comfort, even as he fights it.
“I don’t want to need this,” he whispers.
“I know.” I rest my forehead against his. “But I…I need it too.”
The confession makes me feel vulnerable. Touch. It’s a basic need all omegas have.
His hands slide up my back, fingertips tracing each knob of my spine like he’s memorizing Braille. When I shiver, his grip tightens, drawing me down until my chest presses against his. His heartbeat thuds against mine, slightly too fast. I taste salt when I kiss him again—gentler now, slower. Like we have all the time in the world to map the curves of each other’s lips, to discover which touches make him sigh and which make him tremble.
His fingers find the sensitive spot behind my ear, and I melt further into him. He catches my bottom lip between his teeth, then soothes the sting with his tongue. When I run my nails lightly down his sides, he arches up with a broken sound that I swallow with another kiss.
“Hailey…”
“I’m here.” I trace the line of his collarbone, fascinated by the way he arches into the touch. “I’ve got you.”
“I should be the one offering you comfort.”
I inhale, pulling the scent of him deep. “You always do. ”
Another tear slides down his jaw, but this time when he kisses me, it tastes less like goodbye and more like beginning. The sorrow is slowly being replaced by a warmth spreading through my chest. It’s not just the physical closeness, not just the way Finn’s body fits against mine, but something deeper. Something that recognizes his pain, mirrors it, wants to soothe it away. My hands roam his back, tracing the scars there, the stories they tell. Each touch draws a soft sigh from him, a gradual release of tension I hadn’t realized he was holding.
He shifts beneath me, and I feel the hard length of him pressing against my thigh. Heat floods my cheeks, shame mixing with something else—a flicker of desire that makes my breath halt and stutter.
I pull back slightly, needing to see his face, to gauge his reaction. “Finn,” I whisper, and his eyes flutter open. They’re still dark, dilated, but the pain has softened, replaced by something that makes my heart race. Something that looks like hope.
Before I can voice the questions swirling in my mind, the soft click of the door makes me freeze against Finn’s chest. In the darkness, I can just make out Jax’s silhouette—tall, broad, wearing nothing but boxers. He pauses in the doorway, and even in the dim light, I can see the way his throat works as he swallows.
My body tenses, every instinct screaming danger, shame, all those things the Academy beat into me. I scramble to pull away, to hide, but Finn’s hands tighten on my waist, holding me still. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion. “He won’t…”
Jax doesn’t move. I can see the defined lines of his torso, the way his muscles flex as he shifts his weight, but he doesn’t come closer. And then I notice it—the unmistakable tent of his arousal, rising higher the longer he stands there.
Heat floods my cheeks even though panic seizes me. My heart hammers against my ribs, fear mixing with a strange, unwelcome flicker of desire. He’s an alpha. He’s Finn’s alpha. And he’s reacting to…to us. To me ?
I try to pull away again but Finn keeps me tethered. Jax still doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just watches us, his scent thickening in the air—cedar, heady and strong. A scent that feels like it’s seeping under my skin.
Finn shifts beneath me, a low groan escaping his lips as he adjusts his hips. The sound makes Jax’s nostrils flare, but he still doesn’t approach.
“Can I…” His voice is rough. “Can I come in?” The simple question makes me freeze. No command. No anger. Just a request.
Finn doesn’t respond, but his arms tighten around me. I feel his heart thundering beneath my palm.
Jax moves slowly, each step cautious as if he expects to be rejected. As he draws closer, the moonlight from the window catches him, and I can’t help but notice the way his boxers strain even more now, something big and thick hiding just behind the thin material. My breath stops, lungs ceasing—part fear, part something else I’m not ready to name.
But he doesn’t reach for either of us. Instead, he sinks to his knees beside the nest, his eyes fixed on where Finn’s tears glisten in the dark.
“Finn,” he breathes, and there’s so much pain in that single word.
When he reaches for Finn’s uninjured hand, I expect Finn to pull away. But he lets Jax take it, lets him bring it to his lips. The kiss he presses to Finn’s knuckles is reverent.
“I’m sorry,” Jax whispers against Finn’s skin. “For everything. I’m so sorry, Finn.”
Finn’s breath hitches on a sob.
Jax’s eyes find mine then, and I tense, waiting for…something. Anger. Jealousy. Possession. But there’s only a deep, aching gratitude in his gaze.
“Thank you,” he says softly.
My chest aches. Thank you? For what? For comforting his omega ?
Before I can ask what for, Finn’s other hand cups my cheek, drawing me back down to him. His kiss tastes of salt and hope and desperation. I can feel his sobs against my mouth, hear them muffled in the space between us.
Through half-closed eyes, I see Jax watching us. There’s hunger in his gaze, a raw need that makes my own body thrum with something I don’t understand. But he doesn’t move. Doesn’t interrupt. Just watches as Finn’s hand slides up my thigh, his fingers trembling as they trace the curve of my hip.
I’m aware of Jax’s focus as he presses Finn’s hand against his lips, inhaling deeply, before pressing another kiss to his palm.
“I’ve missed you,” Jax whispers, gaze shifting back to Finn. “We’ve all missed you so much.”
Finn’s sob breaks against my mouth, and I feel his tears fall faster.
“I don’t know how to be what you need,” Finn chokes out.
“You’re already everything we need,” Jax says immediately. “We’re just too dumb. We don’t deserve you, Finn.”
Jax brings Finn’s hand to his lips again, inhaling deeply before pressing a kiss to his knuckles. His eyes never leave mine, and in that shared gaze, I see it—a silent acknowledgment of something shifting between us all. Something I’m not sure I’m ready for.
“And Hailey,” he says softly, “thank you. For reminding us of that. For reminding us of what matters.”
A blush creeps up my neck, but Jax’s smile is genuine, reassuring. “We want you here,” he adds, the words directed at me but his thumb still caressing Finn. “With us. With Finn. Whatever that looks like; however it feels right…we want you to stay.” His gaze flickers between Finn and me, something unspoken passing between them. Then, quieter, almost hesitant, “It’s…good. Seeing him like this again. Happy…with you.”
Finn’s fingers tighten on my waist. “It’s not—” he starts, but Jax cuts him off with a gentle shake of his head.
“Don’t, Finn. Don’t push her away. Not when she’s the one pulling us all back together.” He leans closer to Finn, their foreheads almost touching. “You’re not alone anymore,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “None of us are.”
With a heavy breath, Jax continues.
“Stay,” he whispers. “Not just because you need safety, but because…because we need you both. The way you are with him, the way he lights up around you—none of us mind. We want that for him. For you.” His thumb strokes across Finn’s knuckles. “Maybe for all of us, someday.” Jax swallows hard. “That day you stumbled on Stone’s cabin was the day you saved us all.”
The weight of his words settles over us. Beneath me, another shuddering breath goes through Finn, and when I look down at him, there’s something like hope breaking through his tears.
“But I’m not—” I start.
“You’re exactly what this pack needs,” Jax interrupts gently. “What Finn needs. What we all need, even if we didn’t know it.” He pauses. “We want you to be part of our pack, Hailey. Part of our family.”
Family.
I stop talking. There are no words.
They want me to stay. They want me to share their pack. They want to give me the one thing I’ve dreamt about since as long as I can remember.
Anxiety threatens to creep up. Thoughts about not being good enough. Not being wanted. Not deserving any of this. But in this moment, with Finn’s body trembling beneath mine and Jax’s warm gaze holding me captive, I can’t bring myself to be afraid.