Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Mia
Iwake up alone again.
But this time, it’s different.
This time, I know where they are. I can hear them downstairs. The low rumble of voices, the clatter of dishes, the hiss of the espresso machine. The house hums with life and movement, and even from up here I can feel them moving through the space below me.
The morning light filters through unfamiliar curtains, painting everything in shades of gold. I’m buried under a mountain of blankets, wrapped so securely I’d have to fight my way out.
My body still aches, but not as sharp as before. When I shift experimentally, my thighs burn and my hips throb and there’s a dull, stretched feeling between my legs that makes me wince. But the panic is gone.
The fear that they’d wake up and realize what a mistake they’d made…it’s not clawing at my chest anymore.
We’re yours now. Whether you like it or not.
I do like it.
God help me, I like it so much it terrifies me.
I sit up slowly, wincing as my body reminds me exactly what I put it through. My phone is charging on the nightstand; someone must have plugged it in while I was sleeping. When I check the time, my stomach drops.
9:47 AM.
Thursday morning.
I’ve been here for five full days.
The app launch. The crisis they were managing when I texted them to help me in the middle of my heat. They’ve been ignoring their business for me.
Guilt twists in my stomach.
I throw back the covers and swing my legs over the edge of the nest. My muscles scream, but I grit my teeth and push through it.
I need to get dressed. I need to go home.
I need to give them their space back so they can actually work instead of playing nursemaid to the omega next door who monopolized five days of their lives.
The weekender bag is sitting on the dresser where Declan left it.
I dig through until I find fresh leggings and an oversized sweater, the soft gray one that’s more hole than fabric at this point but feels like being hugged.
Getting dressed is an ordeal that leaves me sweating and shaky, my muscles trembling with the effort of bending and stretching.
By the time I’m clothed and my hair is pulled into something resembling a ponytail, I can hear footsteps on the stairs.
A soft knock at the door.
“Mia?” Eli’s voice, pitched low. “You awake?”
“Yeah,” I call out, my voice still rough from sleep. “Come in.”
The door opens. Eli fills the doorway, dressed in dark jeans and a navy shirt. He’s holding a mug of coffee, steam rising in lazy curls, and when he sees me standing there fully dressed, something flickers across his face.
“Morning,” he says, crossing the room to hand me the coffee. “How are you feeling?”
“Sore,” I admit, wrapping both hands around the mug. The warmth seeps into my palms, grounding me. “But better.”
His gaze tracks over me like he’s noting every wince and tremble. “You should rest today. Your body’s been through hell.”
“I need to go home.” The words come out firmer than I feel. “You guys have work. The app launch. I’ve been taking your time for days, and—”
“Mia.” He cuts me off gently, one hand coming up to cup my cheek. His thumb brushes over my cheekbone, and his blue eyes are steady on mine. “We don’t care about the app right now.”
“You should.” I pull back slightly, needing the distance to think clearly. “You can’t just ignore your business because I went into heat. That’s not fair to you.”
Something shifts in his expression. His jaw tightens, and his hand drops away from my face. “Is that what you think? That we’re doing this out of obligation?”
“No, I—” I fumble for words, my chest tight. “I think the heat is over. The crisis part is done. And you don’t need to keep putting your lives on hold for me.”
The silence that follows is heavy enough to suffocate.
Eli stares at me for a long moment, his gaze searching my face like he’s looking for something. Then he exhales slowly, running a hand through his damp hair.
“Get some breakfast,” he says quietly, his voice carefully neutral. “Then we’ll talk.”
He turns and walks out, leaving me standing there with my coffee and the sinking feeling that I said the wrong thing.
Downstairs, the kitchen is chaos.
Rhys is at the stove, flipping pancakes. Knox is sprawling at the island, scrolling through his phone with one hand while stealing bacon off a plate with the other. Declan is pouring orange juice into five glasses.
They all look up when I appear in the doorway.
“There she is,” Knox says, his grin lazy and warm. “Sleep okay, sunshine?”
“Yeah.” I hover awkwardly at the threshold, suddenly uncertain. This is their space. Their morning routine. I’m the intruder here, the variable that threw everything off balance.
Declan notices immediately. He sets down the juice pitcher and crosses to me, his moss-green eyes soft. “Sit,” he says, guiding me toward the island with a gentle hand on my lower back. “Food’s almost ready.”
I let him steer me onto one of the barstools, my body sinking gratefully into the seat. My legs are still trembling from the effort of getting dressed and walking downstairs.
Rhys slides a plate in front of me a moment later. Pancakes stacked three high, crispy bacon, a perfectly cooked egg. It smells incredible.
“Eat,” he says, dark eyes tracking my face. “You barely touched dinner last night.”
I did fall asleep halfway through the takeout they’d ordered, my body shutting down the moment I felt safe enough to let go.
I pick up my fork and take a bite. The pancake practically melts on my tongue, buttery and sweet and exactly what my body needs. I eat mechanically, fueling my body even as my brain spirals.
They’re being so normal. Like having me here is just part of their routine now. Like they haven’t spent the last five days managing a business crisis while also taking care of an omega in feral heat.
The guilt sits heavy in my chest, pressing down on my lungs.
Halfway through breakfast, phones start buzzing. All four of them, one after the other.
Knox checks his first, his expression shifting from relaxed to focused in an instant. “Server load’s spiking again,” he mutters, thumbs already flying across the screen. “We need to push that patch.”
Rhys’s phone lights up next. He glances at it, jaw tightening. “Client meeting in twenty. The beta testers are flagging the UI issues we talked about.”
Declan’s buzzing from his pocket. He pulls it out, scans the screen, and curses softly under his breath. “Legal needs sign-off on the new terms of service before the update goes live.”
Eli’s phone is the last to go off, but when he reads whatever message is waiting, his whole posture changes. Shoulders squaring. Expression sharpening into something focused and intense.
“Conference call in fifteen,” he says, looking up at the others. “Can’t push it again.”
The energy in the room shifts instantly. The easy, lazy morning atmosphere evaporates like mist. They’re already moving, already shifting into work mode, and I can see the exact moment they remember I’m here.
Four pairs of eyes land on me simultaneously.
“I should go,” I say immediately, setting down my fork. “You guys need to work. I’ll just…I’ll get out of your way.”
“You’re not in the way,” Rhys says, but there’s a tightness around his eyes that wasn’t there a minute ago.
“I am, though.” I slide off the barstool, my legs protesting immediately. “You’ve been ignoring your business for days because of me. That’s not sustainable. I need to go home and let you get back to normal.”
The word normal lands like a bomb.
Knox’s head snaps up, his slate-gray eyes sharpening. “Normal?”
“Yeah.” I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the warm kitchen. “Normal. Your routine. Your life. Before I threw everything into chaos.”
“Mia—” Declan starts, but I’m already moving toward the hallway.
“I’ll just grab my bag and get out of your hair,” I say, forcing my voice to stay steady even as my chest feels like it’s caving in. “You don’t need to walk me over. It’s literally right next door.”
I make it three steps before Eli’s voice stops me.
“Wait.”
It’s not loud. It’s not sharp. But there’s something in his tone, something commanding and unshakeable, that makes me freeze mid-step.
I turn slowly.
He’s standing now, his hands braced on the counter, his blue eyes locked on mine. “You think we’re done? Now that the heat is over?”
The question hits like a punch to the sternum.
“I think….” My voice cracks. I have to stop, swallow hard, try again. “I think you have lives. Responsibilities. A business that needs you. And I can’t keep taking your time just because I’m—” Needy. Clingy. Falling in love with you. “—still recovering.”
The silence that follows is deafening.
Then Knox laughs. It’s a short, sharp sound, completely devoid of humor.
“Taking,” he repeats, his voice flat. He stands up, rounding the island with slow, deliberate steps. “You think you’re taking our time.”
“I know I am.” The words tumble out, desperate and rushed. “You’ve been dealing with a major app launch, and instead of focusing on that, you’ve been playing nursemaid to me for five days straight. That’s not fair to you.”
Knox stops in front of me. Close enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. Close enough that I can smell espresso and something darker, richer blooming around him.
“You’re right,” he says quietly, and my heart plummets. “We have been ignoring work. We’ve been putting out fires via text and taking calls at weird hours and basically running the whole operation on fumes.”
The confirmation feels like a knife between my ribs.
“But you know what?” He takes another step closer, backing me up against the wall. His hands come up to brace on either side of my head, caging me in. “I don’t give a fuck.”
I blink up at him, breath stalling in my chest.