19. Charlotte
CHAPTER 19
CHARLOTTE
I wake with a jolt, my mind surprisingly clear. No more fog. No more feral desperation clawing at my insides. My heat has finally broken.
For a moment I lie perfectly still, cataloguing sensations. The weight of an arm across my waist. The steady rhythm of breathing, not just mine, but several others surrounding me. The sticky mess coating, well, everything.
Don't think about what your body is covered in, Charlotte . But of course, now it's all I can think about. I'm coated in sweat, slick, and cum, so much cum, dried in flaky patches across my skin. My thighs are practically glued together with it .
Carefully I extract myself from the nest of pillows, blankets, and tangled male limbs. My muscles protest with each movement, a deep, satisfying ache that reminds me exactly what I've been doing for the past, how many days? Three? Four? Time became meaningless when my heat hit.
Josiah shifts as I crawl over him, a small frown creasing his brow even in sleep. His hand reaches out blindly, seeking me, but I dodge it. If he wakes and pulls me back down, I might never leave this bed. And I desperately need a shower.
I pause at the edge of the massive bed, taking in the scene. Pack Hudson, in all their glory, sprawled across the king-sized mattress that somehow managed to hold all of us. Beaux's face is pressed against Josiah’s shoulder, his usual scowl softened in sleep. Moses is curled protectively in on himself, clutching a pillow to his chest like it's a teddy bear. Teagan lies on his back, one arm flung dramatically overhead, looking like the Yoruba God, Obàtálà, reborn, even with drool at the corner of his mouth.
My chest tightens. These men, these Alphas, put me first. Me. An Omega they barely knew, who came crashing into their lives with a target on her back and enough baggage to sink a cruise ship .
When my heat hit unexpectedly, they could have fought each other for dominance, for the right to claim me. That's what Alphas do, right? Instead, they worked together, coordinated, communicated. Made sure I was hydrated, fed, when possible, cleaned between waves of need. They didn't just fuck me through my heat; they cared for me through it.
I stumble toward the bathroom, grateful for the en suite in my nest, legs wobbly as a newborn fawn's. My reflection stops me cold. Holy shit.
The woman in the mirror looks like she's been through a war. A sex war. My hair is a rat's nest of tangles, dried slick, and who knows what else. Bruises and bite marks decorate my skin like a roadmap of passion, teeth impressions on my neck, fingerprints on my hips, beard burn on my inner thighs. My lips are swollen from countless kisses. Phew, thank the heavens I don't need to go outside.
But what strikes me most is my eyes. They're clear. Present. And surprisingly peaceful.
I don't see the taint I expected to find. The violation of my last heat—no, don't go there, not yet—isn't reflected back at me. Those memories still lurk beneath the surface, ready to drag me under if I let them. But right now, all I feel is the echo of tenderness. The reverence in Moses’ touch. The fierce protectiveness in Beaux's eyes, his surprising gentleness. Josiah's whispered praise against my skin. Teagan's steady strength.
I trace a particularly vivid bite mark on my shoulder, the indentation is deep enough that I can feel each tooth's impression under my fingertip. Teagan's work, without question. I remember the moment with startling clarity—him positioned behind me, his massive chest pressed against my sweat-slicked back, arms locked around my waist while Josiah knelt between my trembling thighs. The dual sensations had been exquisite torture, Teagan's muscled torso caging me while Josiah's thick cock stretched me open, both of them murmuring filthy encouragements as I shattered between them. When that white-hot pleasure finally erupted through me, Teagan's teeth had found my flesh, claiming me as. . .what exactly? Not his mate, that sacred word remains unspoken between us, a possibility too weighty to examine in this afterglow. But something undeniably significant. Something that transcended the biological imperative of my heat, something that whispered of permanence and possession and possibilities I'm not yet ready to name .
How the hell am I supposed to walk away from these men when this is all over? The question ambushes me, leaving me breathless. I came here for protection, a temporary arrangement until the threat against me passed. I wasn't looking for whatever this is becoming.
I've got a mountain of trauma to work through. I'm one bad memory away from a complete meltdown. But isn't that what I always tell the Omegas who come to the Have Faith Foundation? Just keep waking up. Keep living. Keep breathing. Healing isn't linear, but it does come, eventually.
With Pack Hudson surrounding me, I'm starting to believe that. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I might actually make it through this mess intact.
I step into the shower, letting the hot water sluice away the evidence of my heat, but not the memory of it. Those, I want to keep.
Steam curls around my skin like a second heat, only this one doesn't devour me. It soothes. The water beats down on my shoulders, tracing every bruise, every mark left behind by my pack. No, not my pack, not officially. But after what just happened in that nest after days of being touched, claimed, comforted and seen by them, it feels like a line has been crossed.
And I don't want to step back .
My fingers drift over the bite at the base of my neck again. Low enough to be covered by clothes, deep enough to still ache.
Closing my eyes, I let the water wash away the last of the pheromones, the last traces of my heat. I'm not the same woman who arrived at this penthouse. That Charlotte was broken into pieces. Afraid to feel. I came apart in their hands, they put me back together and woke up something new. Something powerful.
When I finally step out of the shower the nest is empty. I don’t know how long I was in there, but it must have been long enough for them to wake up and begin their day without interrupting me. I feel clear-headed for the first time in days. Still sore, still a little overwhelmed, but grounded. My body is my own again. My mind, too.
I wrap a towel around myself and pad barefoot back to my bedroom. Someone had left out a fresh set of soft lounge clothes—of course they did. Beaux, probably. The man is a thoughtful menace.
Just as I'm pulling on the tank top, there's a knock at the door.
"Come in," I call.
Josiah appears, tablet in hand, expression somewhere between amused and concerned. "Sorry to interrupt your post-heat self-care, your majesty, but we've got something."
I raise a brow, gently toweling off the ends of my curls. "Something good or something bad?"
He enters, holding the tablet out to me like it's a cursed object. "That depends on your definition of fucked."
On the screen is a digital invitation, sleek and black with gold script. Very Eyes Wide Shut vibes.
You are cordially invited to the Annual Masquerade Gala hosted by The Solomon Foundation for Alpha/Omega Harmony. Black tie. Masks required. Presence of Charlotte Matthews requested.
"The fuck is the Solomon Foundation?" I ask, taking the tablet.
Josiah's mouth twists. "That would be one of the many shell organizations funded by our good friend, Senator Justus Blaine."
My stomach drops.
He continues. "The invite was sent through three encrypted servers and bounced off a dozen proxies. It's him. Or someone close to him. Now that they've outed you and the world knows you've been found they want you seen, they want you public."
My pulse kicks up. "A trap. "
"Almost certainly." Josiah looks serious now. All business. "But a very well-dressed one."
I stare at the screen, at the elegant lettering, at the date circled in two days' time.
"Then I guess I need something to wear," I say, voice steady. "Because if this is his move, I'm not playing defense."
Josiah smiles. Not his usual cocky grin—something darker. Fierce. "That's our girl."
And just like that, the game changes again.
"Absolutely fucking not."
Teagan's voice booms through the room, filling the space with Alpha command. My Omega hindbrain shudders at the tone, but the rest of me, the Charlotte who's spent her entire adult life telling Alphas to shove their commands up their asses, bristles. Even Josiah's shoulders slump at his tone and I ain't having none of it.
"I wasn't asking for permission." I cross my arms over my chest, ignoring how the movement pulls at tender muscles. "I'm going."
Teagan stalks toward me, all predatory grace, his scent sharp with displeasure. Leather and gunmetal wrap around me like a warning. "This isn't a democracy, Omega."
Ah, no. "Good thing I'm not your subject then, Alpha." I step into his space, tilting my chin up to meet those furious hazel eyes.
Moses clears his throat from the doorway. "Maybe we should all take a breath."
"Oh look, the voice of reason has arrived." Beaux lounges against the wall in the hall, looking far too amused by the tension crackling between Teagan and me. "Let her speak before you blow a gasket, Trigger."
The nickname seems to land like a slap. Teagan's nostrils flare, but he steps back, giving me room to breathe.
"This is a direct invitation from the man who had me kidnapped," I say, turning to address all four men. "He's making a move. If we don't respond, we're just waiting for the next attack."
Moses frowns, his dark eyes calculating. "You're suggesting we use you as bait."
"I'm suggesting I use myself as bait," I correct. "With you as backup."
"The difference being?" Teagan demands.
"Agency." I don't flinch from his glare. "My choice, my risk."
Josiah clears his throat. "Technically, it's a solid play. They'd expect us to refuse. Why else send an invitation we can see straight through? It's a taunt. "
"Or it's arrogance," Beaux offers, pushing off the wall to join our impromptu war council. "Blaine thinks he's untouchable. That he can operate in the open because no one will challenge him. Motherfucker’s got the audacity to kidnap Omegas on the side while voting on legislation during the day."
Teagan's jaw works, a muscle ticking in his cheek. "And you want to walk into his party? After what you just went through?"
The concern beneath his anger isn't lost on me. I soften, just a little. "That's exactly why I need to go. Because he thinks I'm broken. Because he thinks I'll run and hide." I reach out, my fingers brushing against his forearm. "He doesn't know who he's dealing with."
For a moment, the room is silent. I can almost see the calculations happening behind Teagan's eyes, the Alpha weighing risk against reward, strategy against emotion.
"If, and that's a big fucking if, we do this," he finally says, "we do it my way. Security protocols, comms, weapons, extraction plan. You don't take a goddamn step without one of us knowing exactly where you are."
"I can agree to that," I say, relief flooding me. "As long as I get to actually engage with people. I need to be seen talking to the right folks, not just hiding behind your sexy muscles all night."
Moses moves further into the room, his presence calming. "Beaux and I can handle perimeter. J can run comms. Teagan stays on Charlotte."
Beaux cocks an eyebrow. "You sure you don't want that job, Deacon? Plenty of opportunity to get handsy with our favorite Omega under the guise of protection."
A hint of red touches Moses’ cheeks, and I bite back a smile. Even after everything we've done together during my heat, he still blushes at Beaux's crudeness.
"Focus," Teagan snaps. "This isn't a game."
"Everything's a game," Beaux counters, his grin turning feral. "Senator Blaine just doesn't know he's losing."
I step back, watching the four of them slip into planning mode. They move around each other with the ease of long familiarity, finishing each other's thoughts, anticipating objections, building a strategy that feels both improvised and meticulously constructed.
This is what makes them special. Not just the individual skills, but Teagan's leadership, Moses' tactical precision, Beaux's controlled chaos, Josiah's technological wizardry, and the way they flow together is natural. A true pack, bonded by choice, genuine love, rather than circumstance.
My mind drifts back to the nest, to the way they'd moved together even then. Taking turns, sometimes tag-teaming me, sometimes watching, always in tune with each other's needs as much as mine. I'd never experienced anything like it. The few times I'd shared my heat before, it had been with a single Alpha, and the experience had been adequate. Serviceable. Never transcendent. Never like this.
"Charlotte." Moses’ deep voice pulls me from my thoughts. "You with us?"
I blink, refocusing on the present. "Sorry, what?"
Josiah's knowing smirk tells me he has a pretty good idea where my mind wandered. "We need to get you a dress. Something that screams 'fuck you, I'm fabulous' while concealing at least two weapons."
I laugh; the sound surprising even me. "That's oddly specific."
"I know a designer," Beaux says unexpectedly. "Owes me a favor. She can have something ready by tomorrow night."
Four sets of eyes turn to him in varying degrees of surprise .
He shrugs, unrepentant. "What? I'm cultured as fuck."
"Learn something new every day," I murmur, and the tension in the room shifts, breaks like a fever.
We're doing this. We're taking the fight to Blaine. And for the first time since I became a target, I don't feel like prey.
I feel like a predator.