Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Zoe
Sleep never comes.
The first pale light of dawn is just starting to creep through the windows when I finally give up the fight.
I move through the silent, opulent guest suite like a ghost, gathering the last of my things.
My toothbrush from the ridiculously large marble vanity.
The worn t-shirt and leggings I’ve been sleeping in from under the thousand-thread-count sheets.
The book I’ve been pretending to read for the last two weeks from the nightstand.
Each item I place in the suitcase feels like a stone, adding to the heavy, sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.
This is the right thing to do. The only thing to do.
I repeat the words to myself like a mantra, a shield against the memory of the last few weeks. Against the memory of Dane’s quiet coffee offerings, of Diego’s gentle concern, of Tristan’s unexpected sincerity. Against the memory of Rett’s raw, possessive kiss in the parking lot.
They are not my pack. This is not my home.
I am a beta. A temporary solution to a permanent alpha problem. I learned that lesson once, the hard way. I will not make the same mistake again.
By the time the first, pale light of dawn begins to creep over the city skyline, my small suitcase is packed and zipped, sitting by the door.
I take one last look around the room that was never really mine. Then, before I can lose my nerve, I open the door and step out into the quiet hallway to face them one last time.
I’m not prepared for what I find.
All four of them. Waiting. They’re arranged around the living room like men at a wake.
Rett stands by the windows, hands clasped behind his back, his shoulders rigid with tension.
Diego sits on the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees, hands clasped tightly.
Tristan leans against the wall, arms crossed.
And Dane is by the door, as if he’s been standing guard all night.
They all look up when I enter, and the raw, naked pain in their eyes nearly stops me in my tracks.
“Morning,” I say, my voice coming out smaller than I hoped it would.
No one replies. The silence stretches like a thick, suffocating thing.
I clear my throat, forcing myself to continue. “It’s all done now,” I say, forcing a smile. “My apartment’s safe to return to. Thank you for…your protection. I’ll be going now.”
“Don’t.”
The single word is torn from Rett’s throat, a raw, guttural alpha command that sends a visible shiver through the room.
“Why?” I ask, hating how my voice wavers. “What reason is there for me to stay? The arrangement is over.”
Tristan pushes off the wall, taking a step toward me. His dimple makes a brief, valiant appearance as he tries for his usual charm. “Because we like having you here! The place is less... sterile with you around.”
The words land like a slap. Is that what I am to them? A decorative touch? A plant to liven up their bachelor pad?
“So I’m a roommate you don’t want to lose?” I ask, unable to keep the hurt from my voice. “Or is it because your headaches will come back?”
The question hangs in the air between us. None of them speaks. The silence is answer enough.
“That’s what I thought,” I say quietly.
Diego stands, taking a step toward me, his hand outstretched. “Zoe, it’s not like that—”
“Isn’t it?” I cut him off. “What else could it be? Rudy’s been caught. I’m safe. The only reason for me to stay is the static.”
Rett’s jaw clenches, a muscle jumping beneath his skin. “It’s more complicated than that.”
“Then explain it to me,” I challenge, looking from one to the other. “Give me one reason to stay that isn’t about the noise in your head.”
Silence again. Rett’s eyes are dark with frustration, his hands now fisted at his sides. Tristan looks like he’s searching for words, which is probably a first for him. Diego’s expression is pained, almost desperate. Dane just watches, his pale eyes unreadable.
“I can’t,” I say finally, my voice shaking with a mixture of hurt and resolve. “My life isn’t a prescription you can fill. I’m not a... a utility. I need to go.”
I reach for the handle of my suitcase, gripping it like a lifeline. The claiming marks on my neck decide to throb in this moment, a steady, insistent pulse. I can feel tears building behind my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. Not here. Not in front of them.
“Where will you go?” Diego asks quietly.
“Home,” I say, though the word feels hollow now. “My apartment. It’s been sitting empty all this time.”
“Don’t leave. It’s not safe,” Rett says immediately, another alpha command slipping through.
I lift my chin, meeting his gaze directly. “Rudy is in custody. The threat is gone. Your own security team confirmed it.”
“There could be others,” he insists, taking a step toward me. “We don’t know if he was working alone.”
“Based on the evidence, it seems to have been a solo operation,” Dane says quietly from his position by the door. His words land like a betrayal. Rett shoots him a look of pure venom.
“See?” I say, trying for a lightness I don’t feel. “I’ll be fine. And you all can get back to your normal lives.”
“What if we don’t want normal?” Tristan asks. “What if we want you?”
The words make a lump rise in my throat. I have to look away from the raw sincerity in his eyes.
“You don’t even know me,” I say softly. “Not really.”
“That’s not true,” Diego protests, taking another step toward me. “We know you drink your coffee with too much sugar. We know you’re smart as heck and good at your job. We know you have a weakness for trashy romance novels and mint chocolate chip ice cream.”
“And we know you’re brave,” Dane adds, his voice a low rumble. “Braver than most.”
“And stubborn,” Rett says, a hint of grudging admiration in his tone. “And sharp. And kind.”
Their words wrap around me like a warm blanket, tempting me to stay, to sink into the comfort they’re offering. But I can’t. I won’t be their cure, their band-aid solution for a problem they’ve lived with for years.
“The static will come back,” I say, forcing myself to be cruel, to say the thing they’re all thinking but won’t voice. “Without me here, you’ll go back to how it was before. Headaches. Irritability. Pain.”
The silence that follows confirms what I already know.
That’s the real reason they want me to stay.
Not because they like having me around. Not because of whatever happened between me and Rett that night, or the quiet mornings with Dane, or the laughter with Tristan, or the gentle touches from Diego.
They need me. For relief. For comfort. For silence in their heads.
But I need more than that. I need to be wanted for myself, not for what I can do for them.
“I can’t,” I repeat, my voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t stay and be your... your living aspirin.”
“That’s not what this is,” Rett growls, closing the distance between us in two long strides. He stops just short of touching me. “You’re so much more than that.”
“Then what am I?” I challenge, looking up at him. “What is this? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like a business arrangement that’s run its course.”
He opens his mouth, then closes it again, frustration etched into every line of his face. He can’t answer. None of them can.
I turn to the door, my hand tight around the handle of my suitcase. Dane is still standing there, watching me with those pale, knowing eyes. For a moment, I think he might block my path. Instead, he steps aside, giving me a clear route to the elevator.
“At least let us drive you,” Diego pleads, desperation clear in his voice. “Make sure you get home safely.”
I shake my head. “I’ll take a taxi.”
“Zoe,” Rett says, and there’s something in his voice, a raw, unguarded plea that almost breaks my resolve. “Please.”
I stop at the door, my back to them, unable to look at their faces. If I do, I might waver. I might stay.
“I’ll be fine,” I say, forcing lightness into my tone. “I’ve managed to survive on my own for twenty-six years. I think I can handle a cab ride.”
“The claiming marks,” Dane says quietly. “They’re still active. The bond is still there.”
I touch my neck reflexively, feeling the slightly raised ridges of the four marks. “They’ll fade,” I say, though I’m not sure I believe it. “They have to.”
“And if they don’t?” Tristan asks.
I finally turn to look at them one last time. Four powerful alphas, looking utterly lost. My heart clenches painfully in my chest.
“Then we’ll figure it out,” I say. “But I can’t stay here. Not like this.”
I turn and walk toward the front door, my small suitcase rolling quietly behind me. Every step is an act of will. I don’t look back. I can’t. If I see the look on Diego’s face, I’ll break.
I reach the sleek, minimalist front door and press the button for it to open, stepping out into the cool, quiet marble of their private hallway. The heavy door slides into place, and that’s it. Done.
I stand there for a moment, chest heaving, and then I turn and walk the long, lonely stretch of hallway to the private elevator.
I press the button, and the doors slide open immediately as if it’s always waiting on this floor. Ready to serve the masters of the tower.
I step inside, and just as the polished steel doors begin to slide shut, they reflect the image of the hallway behind me.
The front door to the penthouse has opened again. And all four of them are standing there, in the doorway, watching me leave.
Rett, his face a mask of barely contained anguish. Diego looks like he’s about to cry real tears. Tristan’s face is unreadable. And Dane’s pale eyes follow me with an intensity that seems to pierce right through the reflection, right through the closing doors, right into my soul.
Then the doors close, and I’m alone in the silent, elegant box as it begins its descent.
I make it all the way to the lobby before the tears start to fall.
The beta security guard, Sternam, looks up in surprise as I emerge from the private elevator, suitcase in hand, face wet with tears.
“Ms. Clarke?” he asks, concern evident in his voice. “Is everything alright?”
“I’m fine, Sternam,” I manage, wiping at my cheeks. “I’m just... heading home.”
He nods once, professionally, but there’s a softness to his expression that makes me wonder what he knows about the claiming, about my arrangement with the Sterlings.
“I’ll call you a car,” he says, already reaching for the phone.
“No need,” I say quickly. “I can get a taxi.”
He hesitates, clearly torn between following what I’m sure are strict Sterling protocols and respecting my wishes. “At least let me walk you out,” he offers. “Make sure you get one safely.”
I nod, not having the energy to argue. He comes around the desk, offering to take my suitcase, which I reluctantly allow. Together, we walk through the gleaming lobby toward the massive glass doors that lead to the street.
“They’ll come after you, you know,” he says quietly as we step out into the morning air. “It’s not in their nature to let go of what’s theirs.”
I bristle at his words. “I’m not theirs.”
He gives me a look that’s far too knowing for comfort. “The marks on your neck say otherwise.”
I touch them reflexively, feeling that now-familiar throb. “The marks will fade,” I insist, though again, I’m not sure I believe it.
Sternam flags down a passing taxi, which pulls smoothly to the curb. He loads my suitcase into the trunk while I give the driver my address. Then he turns to me, his expression serious.
“For what it’s worth,” he says, “I’ve worked for the Sterlings for five years. I’ve never seen them like this. Not with anyone.”
I swallow hard, unsure how to respond. “They’ll be fine,” I say finally. “They always are.”
He just nods, stepping back as I slide into the taxi. As we pull away from the curb, I can’t help but look back at Sterling Tower, its gleaming glass facade catching the morning light. Somewhere up there, at the very top, are four alphas who claimed me without fully understanding what it meant.
And somewhere in this taxi is a beta who let them.