56. Hailey
Chapter 56
Hailey
T he pack home looks different when we pull up. Not just repaired—transformed. The broken windows have been replaced with what looks like bulletproof glass, the splintered door frame rebuilt with reinforced steel beneath the wood. Even the garden has been restored, Finn’s trampled plants replaced with identical ones, as if someone knew exactly what had been lost.
Ren.
His absence feels like a leaden weight as we step inside, but his touch is everywhere. The walls have been repainted, furniture replaced or repaired, every trace of violence erased. It’s like walking into a fortress disguised as the pack home.
I glance at Finn beside me. His hand tightens on mine as he takes it all in, his scent shifting between relief and something more complex. The heat has left him raw, vulnerable in a way that makes me ache. But there’s strength there too—in the way he holds himself, in how his chin lifts slightly as he surveys what was nearly lost.
“He fixed everything,” Finn murmurs, his voice soft but steady. His fingers trail along the new windowsill, testing its solidity .
Behind us, Stone shifts his weight. “Ren always was thorough. But this is…”
The use of past tense makes something in my chest twist. They haven’t heard from him since that night. His presence feels like a ghost—everywhere and nowhere at once.
Jax moves past us into the kitchen. I don’t know if the others feel it, but the past few days have created a change. I’m different now, too. Stronger. As if I finally have a tether keeping me secure in this life. My gaze shifts to Finn, my heart swelling, because I know it’s because of him.
“The security system’s been upgraded,” Jax says, his voice carrying from the kitchen. “Motion sensors, thermal imaging, the works.”
Finn’s hand tightens in mine again before he lets go, moving toward a plant sitting on the floor. His fingers brush over the leaves of a peace lily and I remember there had been one just like it sitting there in the same spot before.
“He remembered,” he whispers, something catching in his voice. “Every single one.”
I watch as he moves through the space, cataloging each plant, each careful replacement. There’s wonder in his movements, but also pain. These aren’t his original plants—the ones he nurtured and grew. These are substitutes. They’re perfect…but they’re foreign.
Stone appears beside me. “We can replace any that aren’t right,” he offers quietly. “Or start fresh, if you prefer.”
Finn’s shoulders tense for a moment before relaxing. “No,” he says softly. “They’re…they’re beautiful.” He turns to face us, gaze meeting Stone’s. “Thank you. For trying.”
It’s a small thing, those words, but I can see how they affect Stone. There’s a slight softening around his eyes. Maybe I’m just getting better at reading others. Or maybe I’m just getting more confident. Confident to stare at this large alpha directly. I don’t know when it happened. When I stopped fearing them so much. Or when I found my voice.
“The nest,” I say suddenly, remembering how Finn had worried about it. “Should we check?—”
But he’s already moving, taking the stairs two at a time. I follow, hearing the alphas’ heavier tread behind me. When we reach the nest room, Finn stops in the doorway.
The room is exactly as we left it—every blanket, every pillow in its place. But there are new additions, too. The windows have been reinforced like the ones downstairs, and I spot subtle security features integrated into the walls. Discreet panels along the baseboards.
“Reinforced steel plates,” Stone supplies. “The kind of stuff designed to withstand impact or intrusion.”
My eyebrows lift. The room has been fortified without losing any of its comfort.
Finn walks in slowly, his hands running over the familiar textures. His scent shifts again—sage and rain becoming deeper, richer. When he turns to look at us, there are tears in his eyes.
“It still feels like home,” he whispers.
I cross to him immediately, wrapping my arms around his waist and pressing my face into his chest. His arms come around me automatically, his chin resting on top of my head.
“I’m sorry, Finn. It almost got destroyed because of me.”
“No, Hailey. Not because of you. Because of those bastards who wanted to own you. Losing my nest would be a small price to pay instead of losing you.”
The bond between us pulses, stronger now than ever. It’s not complete. I still need to be marked. But it’s there. I can feel the shadow of his emotions as if they’re my own—relief, gratitude, lingering hurt, and underneath it all, a deep, steady love that almost brings me to tears.
“I’m glad you’re home,” I murmur against his shirt.
His arms tighten around me, and I feel him press a kiss to my hair. “You’re my home too,” he says softly, the words meant just for me. “My mate.”
The term still sends a shiver through me—not just because of what it means, but because of how right it feels.
“Food,” Stone says from the doorway, his voice gentle. “You both need to eat something substantial. The heat took a lot out of you.”
Finn tenses slightly at the mention of his heat, but it’s different now—not the sharp, angry reaction from before, but something softer, more complicated. I feel his chest rise and fall with a deep breath before he nods.
“Yeah,” he agrees quietly. “Food would be good.”
We make our way downstairs, our footsteps echoing on the stairs. The kitchen feels different too when we make our way down. Warmer somehow, despite the new security features. Jax is already moving through the space, opening and closing cupboards with familiar ease, but then he pauses, hand hovering over a pan.
“Why don’t we go out?” he suggests, turning to face us. “That place on Anderson we always—” He cuts himself off, glancing at Stone.
Stone’s brow furrows slightly. “I don’t know if that’s…”
“Ren hasn’t said anything about…” His voice is careful, but his gaze flicks to me briefly. “It’s been quiet. He’d have known if anyone was watching the house. And after everything…” He looks at Finn, then me. “Maybe we need this. Something normal.”
I feel Finn shift beside me, his heat against my back. “The buffet place?” he asks softly, and something in his voice sounds like careful hope. “Where we used to go after…”
“After your heats,” Stone finishes quietly. “Yeah.”
The silence that follows feels weighted, full of memory and meaning I’m not quite part of yet. But I can feel it through my bond with Finn. The echo of easier times. Of comfort.
I don’t want to take that away from them.
“It’s up to you, Hailey,” Jax says, his dark eyes finding mine with a smile. “If you’re not comfortable I can whip up something in like ten minutes. Pretty sure there’s steak in the?—”
“No, I…” I pause, really considering it. The thought of leaving the house makes something flutter nervously in my stomach, but it’s different now. I’m different. “I want to,” I say finally. “I think…I think Finn needs this.”
And me, too. But I don’t want to make this about me.
Finn’s thumb strokes over my shoulders, and when I look up at him, there’s a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. It’s the most relaxed I’ve seen him since before his heat.
“Give us fifteen minutes to change?” he asks, already tugging me toward the stairs.
Stone does a mock roll of his eyes before nodding, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. “We’ll be ready.”
Upstairs, Finn leads me to our room—and it is our room now, I realize. He moves to the closet, pulling out clothes that become a massive flutter of fabric that makes me giggle.
“Here,” he says, holding up a soft cream sweater I’ve never seen before. “This came while we were gone. I think…I think Ren must have ordered it.”
The sweater is beautiful and it looks expensive. Designer, maybe, with a wide neck that would sit just off my shoulders. I take it from him, running my fingers over the material. “It’s perfect.”
He smiles, something sad and fond in his expression. “He has always had good taste.”
We dress quietly after that. The sweater fits perfectly, and I pair it with dark jeans that hug my curves in a way that makes me feel almost confident. Finn pulls on a sage green Henley that makes his eyes look stormy, the soft material clinging to his shoulders in a way that draws my gaze.
When we make our way downstairs, Stone and Jax are waiting. They’ve changed too. Stone in a charcoal button-down with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. Jax in a deep blue sweater that brings out the darkness in his hair and eyes. They both look…softer somehow. More approachable.
“Ready?” Jax asks, his gaze lingering on us both, something warm and appreciative in his gaze.
Stone steps to open the door, his movements quick as he checks the security panel one last time. Jax’s hand hovers near the small of Finn’s back, not quite touching but ready to steady him if needed. And Finn…Finn stands a little straighter, his chin lifted slightly before his gaze shifts to me with a smile.
The drive is quiet, but not uncomfortably so. I watch the city pass by through the window, struck again by how normal everything looks. People walking dogs, omegas holding their alphas’ hands, children playing in playgrounds—it’s like the world didn’t change at all while we were gone.
I enjoy the drive, but it doesn’t take long to get to our destination. The restaurant is tucked into a corner of a small shopping center, its windows warm and inviting. But as we approach the door, something makes me pause. There’s a man behind the host’s stand. I don’t recognize him, but he’s tall for a beta, with sharp features and eyes that seem to catch every detail.
“Evening,” he greets, his smile professional, but something about it makes my skin prickle. “Table for four?”
“Where’s Dean?” Jax asks, and I hear the slight edge in his voice. “He’s usually working Thursday nights.”
The host’s smile doesn’t waver. “Ah, he took a position at another restaurant. I’m David. I started last week.”
Something about the way he says it—smooth, practiced—makes my instincts twinge. But before I can examine the feeling too closely, we’re being led to a booth near the back of the restaurant.
“Your server will be right with you,” David says, and I swear his eyes linger on me a fraction too long before he turns away.
“You okay?” Finn murmurs, sliding into the booth beside me while Stone and Jax take the opposite side .
I nod, trying to shake off the unease. “Yeah.” I don’t want to say it. Don’t want to ruin this evening with my constant fears. But being forced to silence is a remnant from the Academy’s training. I don’t have to be silent now. I can speak up even if it’s stupid.
These alphas, this omega, my mate, will never judge me or make me feel unworthy for simply speaking. I am wanted here. I am even loved .
I take a deep breath, my gaze falling as I play with my nails. “Just…something about him feels off.” It’s a whisper, but saying it out loud still makes me feel silly. Sad little omega who was locked away from the world and is scared of strangers. I’m pathetic. I’m?—
“The new host?” Stone asks, his voice low as he unfolds his napkin. “How so?”
But I can’t quite put it into words. It’s just a feeling, an instinct I can’t quite name. “I don’t know.” I try to smile. “I think I’m just being paranoid.”
“Hey.” Finn’s hand finds mine under the table. He shakes his head. “After everything you’ve been through, a little paranoia is probably healthy.”
Jax eases forward, those deep brown eyes seeing right into me. “We can leave if it’s too much. It’s okay to say no, sweetheart.”
His words make a warm flutter go through me, images of him taking Finn over and over coming straight back to my mind. My cheeks heat and I shake my head.
“No. I…I want to stay.”
He studies me for a moment before easing back with a small smile.
A server heads our way. It’s Black beta woman with graying hair who lights up at the sight of them. “My boys!” she exclaims, though she keeps her voice low. “I was wondering when you’d be back. And who’s this lovely one?”
Her warmth feels genuine, and some of my tension eases. Finn’s hand squeezes mine gently. “This is Hailey,” he says, and there’s something in his voice—pride maybe, or joy—that makes my cheeks warm. “My mate.”
The beta’s eyes go wide, her hand freezing on the notepad. I can see the moment she processes it—an omega with a mate. It’s unheard of, the kind of thing that would make headlines.
“It’s…a bit of a long story,” Finn adds softly.
The beta recovers quickly, her warm smile returning as she shakes her head. “Well, honey, all the best stories are. And speaking of stories—” She winks at me, her voice dropping conspiratorially, “—this one’s got a sweet tooth like you wouldn’t believe. Always going back for seconds of my cobbler.”
“Carol,” Finn groans, but he’s smiling—really smiling, the kind that reaches his eyes and makes them crinkle at the corners. “You’re going to ruin my reputation.”
“Honey, that ship sailed the first time you happy-danced over to my peach pie,” she teases, tapping her pencil on her notepad. “The usual drinks for you three?” At their nods, she turns to me. “And for you, dear?”
“Iced tea?” I say, though it comes out more like a question. “With lemon, please?”
“Coming right up. Buffet’s fresh—just switched out most of the trays. You know the drill, boys. Take care of this one, yeah?”
As she walks away, I catch David looking our way again. This time, I’m sure I’m not imagining it. He’s typing something on his phone, his posture too stiff to be casual.
Stone notices my attention shift. “Hailey?”
I’m imagining this, right? I swallow hard. I don’t want to ruin this evening for Finn, or Stone, or Jax. But when David’s eyes catch mine again, the words leave my mouth before I can stop them. “He’s watching us,” I murmur, forcing myself to look away. “The host. He keeps…looking.”
Jax’s shoulders tense slightly, but his voice remains calm. “I’ll check it out. Need to wash up anyway.” He slides from the booth smoothly, his movements deliberately casual as he heads toward the restrooms, which would take him past the host’s stand.
“Tell me about Carol,” I say, trying to distract myself. “How long have you known her?”
Finn’s expression softens. “Forever, feels like. She’s been here since before we started coming. Always saves her best desserts for us if we pre-book.” His thumb traces patterns on my palm under the table. “She used to slip me extra portions after my heats, said I was too skinny.”
Finn does a dramatic eye-roll. “Not all of us can be built like brick houses.” But there’s no derision in his words. If anything, he sounds…playful. Like he’s coming back to himself, piece by piece.
Jax returns before I can respond, sliding back into his seat with fluid grace. His expression is neutral, but something in his scent has shifted. “David’s gone,” he says quietly. “Different beta manning the stand now.”
My stomach clenches. “Gone?”
“Might be nothing,” Stone says, but his hand twitches toward his phone. “Might have just been the end of his shift.”
“Middle of dinner rush?” Finn’s voice is skeptical. “That’s not?—”
“Let’s not,” Jax interrupts gently. “Not yet. Let’s just…have dinner. Like we planned. Carol’s bringing your favorite cobbler, Finn.”
It’s a deliberate change of subject, but I feel Finn relax slightly beside me. “Yeah,” he agrees after a moment. “Yeah, okay.” He turns to me, his smile smaller now but still real. “Come on. I’ll show you the good stuff. They hide the best mac and cheese in the back corner.”
We make our way to the buffet, and for a while, I let myself get lost in it—in Finn’s running commentary on each dish, in the way he piles his plate high with all his favorites, in how Stone rolls his eyes fondly when Finn adds a third dinner roll. It feels…normal. Safe .
But I can’t quite shake the feeling of being watched, even though I can’t see anyone suspicious. Maybe it’s just paranoia, like Finn said. Maybe I’m seeing threats where there aren’t any.
Or maybe…
“You’re thinking too loud,” Finn murmurs as we return to our seats. “Try the mac and cheese. It’ll help.”
I do, and he’s right—it’s creamy and perfect, the kind of comfort food that makes everything else fade away for a moment. Around us, the restaurant buzzes with normal dinner conversation. Someone laughs somewhere. Silverware clinks against plates. Everything is fine.
But when Carol brings our drinks, there’s something tight around her eyes.
“Everything okay?” Stone asks, catching it too.
She hesitates, just for a second. “Of course, honey. Just…busy night.” But her eyes dart to the front of the restaurant, where the new host stands stiffly, looking anywhere but at us.
I take another bite of mac and cheese, but it tastes like ash now. Under the table, Finn’s hand finds mine again, and I know he feels it too—the slow creep of unease, the sense that something isn’t quite right.
But then Finn starts telling stories—little moments from their past visits here. About the time Ren accidentally knocked over an entire tray of desserts trying to impress Finn from across the room. About Stone’s failed attempt to recreate Carol’s famous cobbler at home, which ended with the fire alarm going off and three very annoyed alphas covered in flour. Each story draws reluctant smiles from the others, and gradually, the tension begins to ease.
I find myself relaxing, drawn into their shared history. When Carol brings out a fresh batch of rolls, still warm from the oven, Finn’s eyes light up like a kid at Christmas.
“See?” he says, breaking one open so steam curls up between us. “Worth the trip just for these.”
Stone shakes his head fondly. “You and your carbs. ”
“Hey, I earned these,” Finn protests, but there’s a lightness to his voice that makes my heart swell. “Besides, you’re just jealous because you can’t eat six of them without your perfect abs disappearing.”
“Six?” Jax raises an eyebrow. “Last time it was eight.”
“That was different. I was—” Finn cuts himself off, a slight flush coloring his cheeks.
“Coming off your heat?” Stone supplies gently, and this time Finn doesn’t tense at the words. Instead, he just rolls his eyes. “You’re coming off your heat now.”
“Yes, fine. I was hungry. Sue me.”
The easy banter continues as we work our way through our meals. I get up for seconds—the mac and cheese really is that good—and when I return, Finn is in the middle of another story.
It feels…normal. Like we’re just a pack having dinner together, sharing jokes and memories. My pack. My family. My heart swells and for a moment, I can almost forget about the host’s strange behavior, about the lingering sense of being watched.
Finn pops the last roll into his mouth, brushing crumbs from his fingers, and that’s when I see it: a folded scrap of paper, tucked neatly under the edge of the empty plate where the rolls had been.
My stomach twists.
I glance around the table, but no one else has noticed it yet. Stone is leaning back in his chair, his phone buzzing faintly against the table. Finn is laughing at something Jax just said, the sound light and carefree in a way that makes my chest ache.
I reach for the note slowly, careful not to draw attention to myself. The paper is soft, worn like it’s been folded and unfolded a dozen times, and when I open it, my pulse stutters.
“Not safe.”
The words are scrawled in a hurried, shaky hand. There’s no signature, no explanation, but I don’t need one. I glance toward the kitchen, but Carol is nowhere to be seen. The new host is standing at the front of the restaurant, still stiff and nervous, his eyes darting around like he’s expecting something—or someone.
The buzzing of Stone’s phone pulls me back, sharp and insistent. He glances at the screen, frowning slightly, then sets it face-down. A moment later, it buzzes again. And again.
“Everything alright?” Jax asks, his voice low.
Stone’s jaw tightens as he finally checks the phone. I see the moment his face shutters.
“Hailey…”
My breath stops as I glance up to find Finn staring at the note in my hand. His expression grows grave as he reads the two simple words.
“Where did this come from?” he whispers, looking around with renewed alertness.
“It was under the bread plate,” I murmur. “I think Carol might have?—”
“Cancellations,” Stone interrupts, his eyes still fixed on his phone. “Three clients just backed out of next week’s appointments. All within the last five minutes.”
Jax’s attention shifts between Stone’s phone and the note now lying in front of Finn. “What’s that?” he asks, nodding toward the paper.
Finn slides it to the center of the table where both alphas can see it. “Someone’s trying to warn us.”
Jax reads the note silently. His eyes meet Stone’s.
The comfortable atmosphere from moments ago feels suddenly fragile, like glass about to shatter. I think about the host’s too-smooth smile, his abrupt disappearance. About Carol’s worried eyes. About how everything had seemed almost normal, just for a little while.
“Here?” Jax finally says out loud, his whisper low. “In public? Do you think they’re that bold?”
Stone’s throat moves. He doesn’t answer. His fingers drum once against the table—the only outward sign of his disquiet. “ I’ve had to reschedule plenty meetings over the years, especially these past few weeks with everything going on. But this…” He shakes his head. “Three high-profile clients, all canceling at the same time, all citing ‘unforeseen circumstances’, and then this… note .”
“We need to leave,” Jax says, his voice barely above a whisper. “Now.”
As Jax places cash on the table and we gather our things, Stone’s phone buzzes continuously, like an angry hornet trapped in his palm.
“All of them,” he says quietly, scrolling through message after message. “Every appointment for the next two weeks. All cancelled within the last ten minutes.”
The implications are clear. Someone is doing this…cutting off their business connections. Someone with enough influence to reach multiple high-profile clients simultaneously.
Someone like the Academy.
Carol appears with a fresh round of drinks that none of us ordered, her smile strained as she sets them down. “On the house,” she says, her eyes darting meaningfully to the note still lying on the table. “You folks enjoying your evening?”
“We were just leaving,” Jax says smoothly, standing with a casual grace that belies the tension I can see in the set of his shoulders.
Carol nods once, almost imperceptibly. “The side exit might be less…crowded,” she murmurs, tilting her head toward a hallway marked with a dim exit sign. “Just a suggestion.”
As we gather our things, my heart pounds against my ribs, a sickening understanding settling in my gut. This isn’t random. This isn’t coincidence. The Academy—they’re behind this. They have to be. And they’re targeting Finn, targeting all of us, because of me.
I watch them as we hurry toward the exit—Stone’s protective stance, Jax’s watchful eyes, Finn’s quiet determination. They’re all so focused on keeping each other safe, on staying together. They have no idea what’s running through my mind right now; the weight of the decision crystallizing in my chest.
If it comes down to it, if this escalates the way I fear it will, I know what I’ll have to do. The Academy wants me? Fine.
I’ll walk right back into their clutches if that’s what it takes to keep my family safe.
The thought should terrify me. Instead, it fills me with a strange calm.
A certainty.
I’ll do it.
I’ll do anything for them.