58. Hailey
Chapter 58
Hailey
T he tension in the house has become a constant presence, like a low hum just beneath the surface of everything we do. It’s in the way Stone’s jaw tightens every time his phone buzzes, in the way Jax rubs at the back of his neck when he thinks no one’s watching, and in the way Finn has become overly jovial, as if he’s trying to distract me from all that’s going on.
And it’s in me too.
Every day, the warmth in my body grows stronger, buzzing low in my belly and spreading outward in slow, insistent waves. It’s not overwhelming like Finn’s heat was, not yet, but it’s there—a quiet, persistent reminder that my first real heat is edging closer. Finn has been keeping a close eye on me, his gray eyes soft with concern every time I shift uncomfortably or press my thighs together.
The nest is ready. Finn let me prepare it myself, letting me layer blankets and pillows exactly the way I want. He even added little touches—his favorite sweater, a soft throw blanket that smells faintly of Jax, a book I’ve been reading but haven’t had the focus to finish. It’s perfect, and yet I can’t bring myself to remain fascinated by it.
Because it feels like a symbol of everything I can’t control .
The heat building in my body. The tension in the house. The constant, suffocating presence of the Academy looming over us like a shadow we can’t shake.
Every day, I watch the males I’ve grown to care about suffer. Every day another piece of their empire shows cracks. And it feels like there’s nothing I can do about it.
But there is one thing I can control.
My decisions.
I’m in the kitchen when I hear them talking in the next room. Their voices are low, but even without the heightened senses of an alpha, I can tell they’re tense.
“You know this is our only shot,” Stone whispers. “If we don’t lock down Burlington at the gala, we’re done. The entire business is done.”
“We’ll lock it down,” Jax replies, though his tone doesn’t carry the same confidence it usually does. “We don’t have a choice.”
“And what happens after?” Stone presses. “What happens when the cancellations keep coming, when our partners start pulling out because they think we’re too much of a liability?”
Jax doesn’t answer right away, and the silence that follows feels heavy, oppressive.
“Let’s focus on the gala,” he says finally, his voice tight. “One thing at a time.”
“Yea…only, there’s a big problem with your plan, Jax.” Stone’s voice rises ever so slightly before he forces it into a whisper once more. “We can’t leave them alone. Not with everything that’s been happening. It’s too dangerous.”
“And forcing Hailey to go to a gala while she’s still having pre-heat flare-ups isn’t exactly ideal either,” Jax counters. “You know how hard she’s been working to keep it under control. Putting her in a room full of strangers— alphas , no less—would be cruel, Stone.”
I stop breathing.
“I know. Fuck, I know. But what’s the alternative?” Stone shoots back. “We call in Ren to keep watch? Fucker hasn’t answered any of my messages even though I can still see him accessing the logs . The only other option is that we stay here. Skip the gala and watch the business crumble around us. You know what’s at stake, Jax. If we don’t lock down Burlington at this event, it’s over. We’re over.”
Jax doesn’t respond, and the silence between them becomes deafening.
“I know what’s at stake,” he says finally. “But that doesn’t mean I’m willing to put her through that. Or Finn. They’ve already been through enough.”
They’re trying to protect me.
But in doing so, they’re tearing themselves apart.
I glance over my shoulder, my heart twisting at the sight of them. Jax is leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his broad chest, his dark-brown eyes clouded with worry. Stone is pacing, his hands stuffed into his pockets, his movements sharp and restless.
They look tired.
No, more than tired. They look…frayed. Like the weight of everything is finally starting to crack the careful facades they’ve built over the years.
I want to help, to tell them that everything will be okay, but the words feel empty in my throat. Because I don’t know if everything will be okay.
And that terrifies me.
Later, at dinner, I finally bring it up .
“The gala,” I say, my voice cutting through the silence at the table. “You’re going, aren’t you?”
Stone glances at Jax, his brow furrowing slightly. “How did you know about the gala?”
I shrug.
“We’re not going,” Jax says, pushing his food around on his plate. “We’re not leaving you and Finn here alone. I mean, I could send Stone alone, but these things…they need the presence of pack. Going along isn’t an option.”
“Th-then we all go,” I say, pushing as much surety as I can into my voice.
Jax raises an eyebrow, his dark eyes narrowing slightly. “Your pre-heat?—”
“Finn and I have been managing it well,” I interrupt, my cheeks heating at the memory of exactly how Finn has been helping me. “I-I’ll be fine for one night. I promise.”
“That’s not the point,” Stone says, his voice calm but firm. “Jax is right. You shouldn’t have to push yourself like this. We can figure something out.”
“I’m not pushing myself,” I insist, though the warmth in my body has been simmering steadily all day, making it harder to think clearly. “I want to go. I’ve never been to a gala before. It will be nice, and I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
Finn, who’s been quiet until now, reaches for my hand under the table. His touch is warm, grounding, and when I look at him, his gray eyes are filled with quiet understanding.
“She’s right,” he says softly, his gaze shifting to Stone and Jax. “We need to go. You both know that…and we have gotten better at managing her symptoms.” He does a little cheeky smile. “We’ve been working at it all day, haven’t we, Hailey.”
I flush at his words, the memory of his hands and mouth on my overheated skin flashing through my mind. He’s been so patient, so gentle, easing the worst of my pre-heat with a care that makes me feel cherished in a way I’ve never known before .
But I can’t deny that the thought of being at the gala, surrounded by strangers, makes my stomach twist with anxiety. Not because I don’t want to go, but because I’m afraid of what might happen if I lose control.
Jax’s gaze lingers on me for a long moment before he sighs, running a hand through his dark hair. “Fine,” he says finally. “But we’re staying close. No wandering off, no splitting up. Understood?”
I nod, relief washing over me. “Understood.”
That night, sleep doesn’t come easily.
I lie in the nest, staring at the ceiling as the events of the day replay in my mind. The tension in Stone’s voice, the worry in Jax’s eyes, the way Finn’s still trying to create a cocoon around me.
They’re all trying so hard to hold everything together, but I can see the cracks forming. And I know that if we don’t figure out a way to stop the Academy, those cracks are only going to get bigger.
The warmth in my body flares again, sharper this time, and I let out a soft sigh, pressing my thighs together as I try to will it away. It doesn’t help.
Slipping out of the nest without waking Finn, Jax, or Stone takes everything within me. I spend what feels like a whole half hour just making my way to the edge. When my feet finally touch the cool floor, I let out a slow breath.
The moonlight streaming in through the window is picturesque. It’s deathly quiet. Everyone is sleeping, but the tension in the air feels heavier than ever.
Walking to the window, I look out over the darkened drive.
I never thought I’d find this. This peace. These males. A promise of a life I actually want to live. I don’t know how…I don’t know how to fix this. But I must.
That’s when I see it .
A shadow moving across the lawn, just barely visible through the curtains.
My spine goes straight, my heart pounding as I move closer to the window, careful not to make a sound. My breath catches when I see the figure more clearly.
Tall. Alpha. Jaw cut from steel, so sharp it catches even the moonlight.
Ren.
For a moment, it feels like the world narrows to just him. His broad shoulders are rigid, his movements quick and purposeful as he makes his way across the lawn. He blends into the darkness like he belongs there. If I wasn’t looking at this precise moment, I would have missed him.
My heart stutters in my chest, the sight of him sending a jolt through me.
He stops, tilting his head slightly, and I think for a moment that he’s going to turn back. But then his gaze shifts upward, and his eyes meet mine through the window.
My breath stops in my throat, my hands pressing against the glass as we stare at each other.
His face is unreadable, those ice-cold eyes shadowed in the faint glow of moonlight. He doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything. And yet, in that moment, it feels like he’s said everything.
I feel the weight of him, the quiet intensity that’s always surrounded him, pressing against me even through the glass. He’s still the same alpha who always seemed the coldest, the most distant, the one I never really knew.
And yet, I know one thing for certain.
He loves Finn.
He would do anything for Finn.
And so would I.
The moment stretches until he finally breaks it. Ren’s gaze lingers on mine for just a heartbeat longer before he turns away, continuing his path toward the edge of the property .
I watch him go, my chest tightening with the weight of everything unsaid.
Where is he going? What is he doing?
And then it hits me. He’s heading toward the cabin.
I glance toward the bedroom door, torn between staying where I am and following him. But the longer I stand there, the more my curiosity—and my concern—grows.
Finally, I make a decision.
Grabbing a sweater and loose pants, I slip out of the room and head downstairs, my footsteps silent on the floorboards. The house feels different at night, the shadows longer, the silence deeper.
When I reach the front door, I hesitate for a moment before entering the security code and stepping outside, the cool night air brushing against my skin.
Ren is nowhere to be seen, but I know the way. My heart pounds in my chest, my breath coming in quick, shallow bursts as I move toward the edge of the property.
The cool night air bites at my skin, my sweater doing little to keep the chill away. I should have grabbed shoes, but in my rush to follow him, I didn’t think about it. Now, each step is a careful negotiation with the earth beneath me—sharp twigs, damp leaves, and cold, uneven ground.
Ren is already long gone. I know that. Even though I left the house as quickly as I could, he’s faster, stronger, and far more familiar with this property than I am. He must be halfway to the cabin by now, if not already there. But I can’t bring myself to turn back.
The night stretches out around me, heavy and alive. The forest is a tangle of shadows, the trees swaying gently in the cool breeze. Somewhere in the distance, an owl hoots, its call low and mournful. The sound of crickets fills the air, a rhythmic hum that seems to grow louder the farther I get from the house.
I pick my way through the darkness, my steps slow and careful as I try to avoid tripping over the roots that rise up from the earth like skeletal fingers. The brambles snag at the hem of my pants, their thorns biting into my skin, and I wince as a particularly sharp one catches my ankle.
The soft squelch of damp leaves underfoot is the only sound I make as I move deeper into the trees. The moonlight barely filters through the canopy, casting faint, dappled shadows on the forest floor. I focus on the path ahead, my breath coming in shallow bursts as I try to keep up the pace.
The moment I reach that lightning-struck oak—the one that looks like a grasping hand reaching for the sky—I know I’m close. The air feels heavier here, colder. Every sound—the rustle of leaves, the distant snap of a twig—makes my heart jump, but I force myself to keep moving.
The cabin isn’t far now.
The path grows steeper, the ground slick with moss and damp earth. I stumble over a root, catching myself on my hands and knees in the dirt. My palms sting, and I bite back a curse as I push myself up again, my determination outweighing the discomfort.
Just a little farther.
And then, finally, I see it.
The cabin.
The first place that signaled my salvation.
It’s tucked into that same small clearing, its dark silhouette almost blending into the forest around it. A faint light glows in one of the windows, barely visible.
Ren.
I stop at the edge of the clearing, my breath hitching.
I can’t see him, but I know he’s there. The faint light in the window is enough to tell me that much.
For a moment, I hesitate, my feet rooted to the ground as I stare at the cabin. What am I even doing here? What am I hoping to achieve?
I take a hesitant step forward, the cabin looming larger now, the faint glow from the window casting long shadows across the clearing. But just as I near the edge of the clearing, the sharp crack of a twig snapping beneath my foot cuts through the quiet night like a gunshot.
The sound freezes me in place, my breath stopping in my nose. For a moment, there’s only silence—the kind that feels too loud, too heavy, as if the whole forest is holding its breath.
Come on, you can do this.
I take another step forward when the world suddenly gets snapped backward. Before I can react, a strong arm wraps around my waist, pulling me back against a hard, unyielding chest.
I gasp, my pulse spiking as I struggle instinctively, but the grip is firm, unrelenting.
“What the fuck are you doing out here?” Ren’s voice is low, rough, and filled with disbelief.
The tension in his body is unmistakable, the heat of him radiating through the thin fabric of my sweater. He doesn’t release me right away, his arm holding me flush against him as if he’s not entirely convinced I’m real.
“I—” My voice falters, my mind scrambling to catch up. “I followed you.”
He curses under his breath, his grip loosening slightly but still firm enough to keep me in place. “I didn’t think you would…” His voice trails off before he tightens his hold for one last second, then abruptly lets me go as if realizing what he’s doing.
I stumble slightly, but his hands are on my arms immediately, steadying me. His touch lingers for a moment before he steps back, his broad frame still towering over me.
“Fuck,” he mutters again, running a hand through his hair as he looks me over. It’s grown out. The dark curls wild and untamed. “You shouldn’t be out here. It’s not safe.”
“I—I had to find you,” I say quickly, my voice trembling, but something else pushes through me. Through my fear and my resignations and the lingering Academy training. Determination. “I had to talk to you. ”
He stares at me, his expression unreadable, but there’s something in his eyes—something sharp and conflicted—that makes my chest tighten.
“You shouldn’t have followed me,” he says, his voice quieter now, though no less tense. His gaze flicks to my bare feet, his jaw tightening. “Look at you. You’re freezing.”
“I’m fine,” I start to say, but he cuts me off with another curse, shaking his head as if he can’t believe this is happening.
“No, you’re not,” he snaps, scooping me up into his arms as if I weigh nothing.
“Ren—”
“Quiet,” he growls, his tone leaving no room for argument.
The warmth of him is startling against the chill of the night, his scent—that soothing sandalwood is still threaded with smoke. It wraps around me as he carries me toward the cabin, his strides long and purposeful.
“Fuck. You shouldn’t be out here,” he mutters again, more to himself than to me. “What the fuck were you thinking? You could have fallen or gotten hurt.”
I don’t answer. There’s something about the way he’s holding me, about the anger in his voice that doesn’t quite mask the concern, that leaves me speechless.
Out of everything I imagined…I didn’t imagine this.
When we reach the cabin, he kicks the door open with more force than necessary. The old hinges creak in protest. The warm glow from inside spills out into the night, and I catch a glimpse of the room before he sets me down on a chair near the small table.
“Stay there,” he orders, his voice sharp as he moves to the fireplace.
I watch as he crouches down, striking a match and setting it to the kindling already stacked in the hearth. The fire catches quickly, the warm, golden light flickering across the room.
The cabin looks…different from how I remember.
This was my first refuge after escaping the Academy, the place where Stone had first found me. Back then, it had been sparsely furnished—just the basics, enough to survive, but nothing more.
Now, the little table is covered with three laptops, their screens glowing faintly in the dim light. A small generator hums quietly beneath the table, wires snaking across the floor.
I glance at the screens, my breath catching when I see one of them displaying a live feed of the house. The image is grainy but unmistakable—the front porch, bathed in moonlight, completely still.
“What is all this?” I ask softly, though I already know. My gaze shifts back to Ren.
He doesn’t answer right away, too busy filling a metal pail with water from a jug and setting it over the fire to warm. I can see the tension in the set of his shoulders, the way his jaw clenches as he works.
“R-Ren?”
He finally looks at me, those ice-cold eyes sharp and unreadable. “It’s what I’ve been doing while you’ve all been trying to play house,” he says flatly. Then he grits his teeth. Sighs as he squeezes his eyes shut. “Keeping you safe.”
My gaze drops to the table again, to the screens and the papers scattered across the surface. It’s overwhelming, a chaotic mix of maps, notes, and photographs, and I realize with a sinking feeling that he’s not only been watching us—he’s been watching everything —this entire time.
Before I can form a response, my eyes catch on something else.
The bed in the corner.
It’s the same small cot that was here when I stayed in the cabin, but now it’s covered with a familiar blanket—the same one that Stone had gotten me, the one I’d been sleeping with back then. It’s probably bathed in my scent. I’d left it here when Finn came to get me, and now it looks like Ren has been using it.
The sight of it leaves me speechless .
That Ren might have been cuddling up to my scent every night since he’s been gone seems ludicrous.
He notices where my gaze has landed, his eyes narrowing slightly before he moves to the bed and discreetly pushes the blanket out of view.
“You, uh…you hungry?” Those sharp eyes are so focused, it feels like he’s seeing right through me.
I swallow hard as I shake my head, my thoughts spinning. He looks…different.
The stubble on his jaw is thick, his usual crew cut undefined with his curls taking over, and there are dark circles under his eyes that make it clear he hasn’t been sleeping. But even with the exhaustion etched into his face, he’s still impossibly handsome, his features sharp and striking in the firelight.
And yet, there’s a distance to him, a coldness that makes me feel more unsure around him than I did before.
“Why are you out here?” I ask finally, my voice quieter now.
He doesn’t answer right away, his focus shifting back to the pail of water over the fire. When he speaks, his voice is low, almost bitter.
“Because I have to be,” he says simply.
The words hang heavy in the air, and I don’t know how to respond.
Instead, I watch as he moves around the cabin, his tension palpable, his presence filling the small space in a way that makes it hard to breathe.
And for the first time, I realize just how much weight he’s been carrying.
Alone.
Ren left that night when he put his fist around my throat and choked me. I remember the way his hand closed around my neck, the pressure cutting off my air, the raw power of him overwhelming me in a way I hadn’t been able to stop. Even now, the memory makes my fingers shift to my neck, tracing over the spot .
The moment he notices, his gaze drops, his jaw clenching so tight I can practically hear his teeth grind.
He knows.
He knows exactly what I’m thinking about, and it’s tearing him apart.
For a long moment, neither of us says a word. The tension in the cabin seems to take on more weight, pressing down on both of us.
“You’re punishing yourself for it,” I say softly, breaking the silence.
His head snaps up, his icy eyes locking onto mine with a sharpness that takes my breath away. “ What ?”
“You’re punishing yourself,” I repeat, my voice steady but quiet. “For what happened. For what you did to me.”
His nostrils flare, and he turns away abruptly, his hands bracing on the edge of the table. “Do you really want to talk about that right now? This isn’t how I imagined?—”
“Yes.”
His gaze snaps back to me. “Fuck. Me.”
My cheeks heat, even though I know that’s not what he means. “You choked me but?—”
“I fucking hurt you, Hailey.” He stares me down as if he’s daring me to challenge the fact. “I saw the bruises.”
“I…” I swallow hard, not sure where I’m going with this. Am I afraid of him? Yeah, to be honest, I am a little. Am I afraid for Finn and the others more? Yes. Yes, I am. “You didn’t mean to,” I whisper.
He lets out a humorless laugh, his head falling forward slightly. “No, I didn’t. But back then…Back then, you wouldn’t even look at me full-on. You didn’t talk to me. Hell, I think I scared you so bad you’d flinch if I so much as breathed too loud. And then I went and did that .”
I blink at him, caught off guard by the bluntness of his words. “ You did breathe too loud,” I counter, my lips twitching despite the tension. “And I wasn’t scared. I was just…careful.”
“Careful,” he repeats dryly, turning back to face me fully. “You mean terrified. Hasn’t stopped you from being pushy now, though.”
“I’m getting better,” I say softly, holding his gaze.
For a moment, he simply glares at me. And then, it’s almost as if he deflates. His expression softens, the hard edges of his face easing just slightly. “Yeah,” he says, his voice quieter now. “You are.”
There’s a pause, and something unspoken lingers in the space between us. His eyes shift, watching me with a look I can’t quite place before he nods, almost to himself.
“It’s…good,” he says, tone thoughtful. “I’m proud of you.”
The words land heavily, and for a moment, I don’t know what to say. It’s not just the words themselves. It’s the way he says them, like they’re not something he’s used to saying but something he genuinely means.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“But I did,” he whispers after a moment. “I did hurt you.” His gaze shifts to mine. “Don’t ever forget that.”
The words hang between us, heavy and damning. I don’t know how to respond, so I don’t. I just watch him, the weight of his self-loathing pressing against me like a physical living thing.
But I don’t want him to stop talking. I don’t want to stop talking.
“You missed Finn’s heat,” I say finally.
The flash of pain that crosses his face is so brief I almost miss it, but it’s there, cutting deep.
“I know,” he says simply, voice hollow.
I hesitate, my fingers twisting in my lap. “He needed you.” I pause, watching him. “He misses you. If you just come back. Tell him you’re sorry…”
Ren’s jaw tightens again, and he looks away, his gaze fixed on the fire as though it holds all the answers he’s looking for .
“It doesn’t matter how sorry I am,” he says after a long moment, his tone quiet but edged with something sharp. “Some actions…they can’t be taken back. No matter how much you regret them. No matter how badly you wish you could undo them.”
The truth of his words settles in my chest like a heavy unyielding stone.
He’s right.
Some things can’t be undone.
But that doesn’t mean we can’t work to make things better.
We sit in silence after that, the only sound the soft crackle of the fire and the faint hum of the generator beneath the table. Ren doesn’t look at me, and I don’t know if I should say anything else.
But then he moves, picking up the pail of warm water and a clean rag.
“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
He doesn’t answer, just kneels in front of me, the movement strangely reverent for someone like him.
His nostrils flare the moment he’s close, his head dipping slightly as he catches my scent. For a moment, his shoulders tense, his jaw clenching again, but he pushes through whatever instinct is clawing at him and dips the rag into the water.
“You’re hurt,” he says shortly, his voice rough. He takes my foot in his hand, his touch surprisingly gentle as he starts wiping away the dirt and grime.
“I’m fine,” I protest weakly, trying to pull my foot away, but his grip tightens just enough to keep me still.
“Be quiet,” he mutters, not looking up. “Let me do this.”
His gentle touch is at odds with the image I’ve painted of him in my head, and every brush of his fingers sends shivers through me that have nothing to do with pain. When he leans closer to examine a cut, his breath fans warm against my skin, and I have to push back against the dull heat threatening to push harder in my veins.
Not now .
Not now and definitely not here with him.
The warmth of the water soothes the sting of the small cuts and scrapes on my feet, and I find myself slowly relaxing despite the tension still hanging thick in the air. Watching him like this—kneeling at my feet, his movements careful and deliberate—it’s almost surreal.
He works in silence, his focus entirely on me. There’s no trace of the cold, distant alpha I thought I knew, only the quiet determination of someone trying to make amends in the only way he knows how.
When he finally finishes with my feet, he moves to my hands, his touch just as gentle as he cleans the dirt from my palms.
I watch him, my chest tightening with something I can’t quite name.
“I forgive you,” I say softly, the words slipping out without thought.
He goes so still, so silent, that for a moment I think he hasn’t heard me.
Then he looks up, those icy eyes meeting mine.
“You don’t have to,” he says quietly, voice raw.
“I do,” I reply, my voice steady even as my heart pounds in my chest.
“I don’t deserve it,” he says, his gaze never leaving mine.
For a long moment, we just stare at each other, the weight of his guilt and my forgiveness hanging between us.
And for the first time, I see him—not the cold, distant alpha who always seemed so untouchable, but the man beneath, the one who carries so much more than he lets anyone see. I see the alpha Finn fell in love with.
“You do,” I say softly, and the words feel truer than anything I’ve ever said. He choked me, but I saw his reaction afterward. The horror. The guilt. Unlike the alphas that have hurt me before, Ren hated what he did.
Something shifts in his expression, a crack in the carefully constructed walls he’s built around himself. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t argue.
Instead, he just looks at me, those eyes filled with something too deep for words, and for the first time, I feel like I’m finally starting to understand him.
Ren is so much more than I thought he was.
The thought comes quickly, an unsteady plan I haven’t quite thought out. “You can make it up to me. To Finn. To us. All you have to do is do me a favor.”
His brows furrow slightly. “What favor?”
“Say yes and then I’ll tell you.”
I see the shadow of a surprised grin, and then I realize he’s right. I am pushy. The adrenaline continues to push through me, amping up my bravery. I cross my arms over my chest, a challenge in itself that he doesn’t miss.
“Fine. What’s the favor, sweetheart?”