Chapter 6 Naomi
Chapter six
Naomi
The room tilts.
I reach blindly for the back of the couch and grab it. My lungs forget how to work for a second. Air comes in fast and shallow, never quite making it all the way down.
Too hot.
The fireplace. Three large alphas in the room. The knowledge that outside is just… white. No road. No way out.
“Sit,” someone says, Felix, I think, but my knees are already giving up. I land on the edge of the couch harder than I mean to.
Phone. I need my phone.
I fumble for it in my pocket and yank it out.
Screen. Call button. Numbers. I know how to do this. I’ve done this a thousand times.
My vision won’t stay still long enough to hit the right icons. I blink hard, force my hand to slow down, and finally manage to dial.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
The voice is female. Calm.
“I’m—” The words tangle in my throat, then tumble out too fast. “I’m trapped in a blizzard. I’m at a private residence on Canyon Road and I can’t get out, I need someone to—”
“Okay,” she says immediately, gentle but firm. “You’re doing the right thing by calling. I need you to take a slow breath for me so I can understand you, okay?”
Slow breath. Right.
I drag one in. It scrapes over something tight in my chest, stops halfway. Not enough.
“Are you injured?” she asks.
“No.” My voice sounds thin.
“Is anyone there hurt?"
“No,” I say again. Technically true. “But I can’t—I’m stuck. I can’t drive out, visibility is zero and—”
“I understand,” she says. “I’m sorry you’re going through this. I wish I could tell you we can have rescue on the way, but right now we can’t send any vehicles out—"
“You don’t get it.” My fingers dig into the phone. The walls feel like they’ve moved in a few inches. “I can’t stay here.”
“I hear you,” she says quietly. “But being inside that house is the safest place you can be in this storm. You have four walls and a roof. You’re out of the wind. That puts you in a much better position than anyone who’s—”
Static cracks over her words.
“Hello?” My voice jumps. “Hello, I can’t hear—”
“Ma’am? Are you still—”
The line dissolves into a rush of white noise and the call drops.
I stare at my phone like that alone might reconnect it. The little “no service” icon stares back.
Okay. Fine. Mia.
I tap her contact. The call tries, spins, somehow connects.
“—omi? Naomi, are you—” Her voice is shredded by interference. “The weather just went side—oh my god, please tell me you’re not on the road—”
“I’m at the chalet,” I blurt. My own voice sounds like it’s coming from another room. “I can’t get out, I need you to find something, anything. A helicopter, a snowcat, I don’t care, just—”
“Naomi, slow down, you’re break—up—I can’t—” Mia sounds like she’s underwater. “Stay put, do not try to drive, I’ll call the—”
“Mia? I can’t hear you. Mia?”
Static eats the rest. The line dies.
I hit call again. Nothing. Not even a ring this time.
The room squeezes around me. Not literally, but it might as well. The ceiling feels lower than it did five minutes ago. My skin is hot, my fingers cold, my heart beating too fast and too hard, like it’s trying to punch through my ribs.
I don’t realize my breaths have turned into fast little gasps until someone speaks.
“Hey.”
I look up.
Felix is a few steps away, down on my eye level. Silas and Liam are behind him, farther back, near the fireplace. All three are watching me.
“I’m… fine,” I say automatically, though there’s way too much air in the sentence and not enough control.
“You don’t sound fine,” Felix says, voice soft. He doesn’t move any closer yet, like he’s wary of crowding me. “Sounds like you’re kind of freaking out. Which is completely understandable.”
“I’m not—” My chest tightens mid-denial, cutting the words off. Spots blur at the edges of my vision. The room tilts again, this time paired with a roar in my ears.
“Okay,” he says quickly, palms lifting a little, like he wants to reach for me and thinks better of it. “Hey. Look at me for a second.”
His tone slices through the static. I drag my gaze up.
Hazel eyes. Focused, calm. A faint line between his brows.
“Good,” he murmurs. “Just stay with me. We’re going to slow your breathing down, alright? In through your nose.”
“I can’t get it in,” I manage. My chest feels too tight, heat presses against the inside of my skin. At the same time, my hands are numb. “It won’t—”
“You can.” His voice is steady. “Not a huge breath. Just a small one. In through your nose. Right now.”
I try. Air drags in, jerky and thin, but it’s something.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “That’s it. Now hold it. One… two…”
I hold it.
“Now out through your mouth. Slow as you can.”
I blow the air out, and it shakes on the way.
“Good,” he says. “Again. In.”
He breathes with me—chest rising and falling in my peripheral vision—counting in this low, even murmur. No touching. His hands stay visible and empty, fingers flexing once like he has to remind himself not to reach for me.
The room’s still too warm, but the squeezing eases a little. The roar in my ears fades enough that I can hear the wind outside again, battering the house.
“In,” he says. “Hold. Out.”
My lungs listen to him more than they listen to me. The air starts going in a bit deeper. My fingers uncurl from the phone.
“There you go,” he says. “That’s better. Keep going.”
We cycle through a few more breaths like that. The walls stop inching closer. The ceiling climbs back to where it should be. By the time my heart stops trying to sprint out of my chest, my throat hurts and my eyes are stupidly wet.
“Well,” Silas says from behind him, voice rougher than before. “Guess the lawyer’s really staying.”
Felix shoots him a look over his shoulder that shuts him up. “Really, Silas? Not cool.”
He turns his attention back to me. “You’re okay,” he says. “Your body just hit the panic button. Happens to a lot of people in storms.”
“I can’t leave, I can’t get out.”
“I know.” He tilts his head slightly, his voice gentle. “And yeah, that’s a lot. But you’re inside, the heat’s working, and you’re with three guys who know how to keep a place running in extreme conditions. Could be worse.”
“How long do you think this storm is gonna last?" I ask.
“A day, maybe two," Liam finally speaks, quiet but certain. "We’ve had worse."
“Maybe two days,” I repeat, throat tight. My mind jumps ahead automatically to all the work I'm supposed to be doing, my upcoming meetings… “I don’t even have… anything. No clothes, no toiletries, nothing.”
My handbag sits next to me, small and useless-looking. Inside: phone charger, wallet, DuoBlocks. That’s it. I hadn’t planned to stay longer than a few hours. I hadn’t planned to stay at all.
Felix follows my gaze. "We’ve got backup power and water. Even clothes that should fit you. And if you don't like them, we have a washer and dryer. So worst case, you’ll get very familiar with that outfit over the next forty-eight hours.”
A startled laugh escapes before I can swallow it down. It sounds a little wild, but it’s a laugh.
“How much food?” I ask. “Be honest. I’m a planner. If we’re rationing, I need to know now.”
Felix glances over his shoulder at Silas and Liam, then back at me.
“Full honesty?” he says. “We were supposed to hit the grocery store today. Didn’t happen. So we’re not exactly prepped for the apocalypse.”
“Of course you weren’t,” I mutter.
"But," he adds quickly, "we're not empty, either. There's flour, pasta, eggs, frozen meat. A disturbing amount of protein powder… among other things. We'll be fine for a couple days.
"And worst case, you stocked up on those frozen cheese bites again," Liam says under his breath."
“And you’re welcome,” Felix shoots back, then looks at me. “Point is: we have enough. Nobody’s going hungry.”
The spinning feeling has mostly gone. My chest still feels tight, but less like it’s going to implode. My hands have stopped shaking.
“Better?” Felix asks.
I nod once. “Yeah. A little.”
“Okay,” he says. “So. Game plan. We’ve got a guest room you can use. Own bed, own bathroom, door that locks, all that. You can hole up there as much as you want, or come hang out. Your call.”
“Any chance the clothes you mentioned include pajamas?” I ask, because apparently my brain has latched onto logistics as the only manageable piece of this. “And please tell me they're washed. I am not wearing used alphas' clothes.”
His mouth curves. “Fair. And you won't be."
Behind him, Silas makes a low sound. “You don’t have to bend over backward for her,” he mutters.
Felix half-turns. “How about just being a decent person?"
Silas looks like he has an answer and swallows it. His gaze flicks to me and he sighs. “Do what you want.”
He heads for the hallway. Liam gives me a small nod, then follows.
The room feels different once they’re gone. Less crowded. I'm still not exactly relaxed, but better.
Felix blows out a slow breath, some tension dropping from his shoulders. “Ignore him,” he says. “He’s… not at his best, this time of year.” He gestures toward the hall. “Come on. I’ll show you where you’re staying.”
I stand, legs a little wobbly but behaving, and grab my handbag.
The hall is warm, lined with photos, not unlike the living room. At the end, he opens a door.
The guest room is bigger than my bedroom back in Manhattan. Queen bed, soft gray quilt, matching pillows. A dresser, a chair, a small desk. A door on the right stands half-open, showing a glimpse of tiled bathroom and towels on a rack.
The far wall is all window, where I see nothing but white.
My throat tightens again, but the earlier panic doesn’t crash back full force. It just… sits there.
"The clothes I told you about are in the closet," Felix says behind me. "Extra blankets too. Heater’s on its own thermostat, so you can set it how you like.”
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“No problem.” He lingers in the doorway. “We usually eat around seven. You’re totally welcome to join us. If you’d rather not, that’s fine too. Kitchen is fair game if you get hungry.”
I turn to look at him. He’s leaning one shoulder against the frame, hands in his pockets, expression open.
“I’ll… see how I feel,” I say.
“Works for me.” The dimple shows for a second. “If you need anything, just yell."
He closes the door with a soft click… and silence takes over.
I stand there for a long moment. Then I lie on the bed, eyes on the ceiling, listening to the distant hum of the heater and the relentless scrape of wind against glass.
How am I going to get my work done on time?