37
Phoenix
I’d stopped counting the days since I arrived at my sister’s place. Maybe it had been a week, maybe two? It all blurred together after I found Dove’s liquor stash. The sharp bite of whiskey, the burn of cheap vodka sliding down my throat—anything to numb the ache. Anything to drown out the heartbreak that had settled into my chest like a lead weight.
Dove had tried to help me. She’d come to check on me, bringing food I didn’t eat and offering words I couldn’t hear. I snarled at her every time, driving her away. My sister didn’t deserve that, but I couldn’t stop myself. It was easier to lash out, to push away the people who cared. It was easier than feeling everything crashing down around me.
My Omega was devastated, mourning and inconsolable. The Alphas. Mine, my Omega insisted. They had rejected me. They didn’t want me. They broke me, shattered me into pieces I wasn’t sure I could ever put back together. The only thing that numbed the pain was the very vice I had sworn never to turn to again.
When my sister cleared out the booze, I’d wait until she fell asleep and secretly order more to be delivered. By morning, it would be gone, and I’d spend the entire day passed out.
Tonight was one of those nights. Dove was asleep, and I was curled in a ball on the cold floor of the shower, knees pulled tight to my chest. The water had long since turned icy, but I didn’t care. Maybe I hadn’t even noticed. The chill seeped into my bones, numbing the surface, but nothing could touch the pain festering inside. It gnawed at me, hollowing me out until there was nothing left but the ache. The water dripped over me, steady and relentless, and I welcomed it.
The shower door was cracked open slightly, and the cool air hit my wet skin, mingling with the freezing water. My mind was foggy, dulled by the haze of alcohol. My limbs felt heavy, too weighed down to move, and I didn’t even flinch when the door to the bathroom creaked open.
I didn’t care who it was. Nothing mattered anymore.
And then I caught a scent. Fresh rain and leather. It filled the space, cutting through the haze for just a second. One of them. One of the Alphas. But I couldn’t remember his name. My mind was too foggy, too far gone to put the pieces together. All I knew was that it was familiar, and that alone was enough to make me weak.
A quiet noise broke the silence, almost a whimper. The kind of sound you make when something inside you breaks. It wasn’t me. I turned my head sluggishly, trying to focus.
He stood in the doorway, his form looming in the dim light of the bathroom, and for a moment, I thought it was all in my head. Maybe I’d imagined him, like I’d been imagining things for the past week. But the scent grew stronger, mixing with the stale air, and I knew he was real.
I felt his eyes on me as he took in the sight of me. Broken, curled up on the shower floor, water running cold, my body trembling in the temperature I could barely register. My clothes were somewhere in the mess of the room. I was nothing but a shell of the woman I used to be, and he could see it. I knew he could.
There was a pause. A painful, crushing silence that made the air feel heavier, and then, he let out a sound that nearly shattered me—a low, pained noise, like he was being torn apart from the inside out.
I blinked, water dripping into my eyes as I tried to focus, but my limbs were too heavy. Everything felt like it was slipping.
He crossed the space between us in a few short strides, moving so quickly it was almost a blur. Before I could even comprehend what was happening, his hand was on the glass, pushing the shower door open fully, the cool air rushing in.
I couldn’t do anything but lie there, dripping wet and pathetic, while he looked at me like I was something precious he’d lost. His eyes—dark and full of something I couldn’t quite understand—locked onto mine.
“Princess,”
I thought I heard him say. I blinked again, trying to focus, but the alcohol was still swimming through my veins, making it hard to think, hard to see straight. The flow of water stopped as he turned the tap.
“I’m sorry,”
I slurred, not even knowing what I was apologizing for or if I was speaking out loud. Maybe for being here like this. Maybe for the mess I’d become. Maybe for believing in them in the first place. I didn’t know. I just knew I needed to say it.
And then he did something I didn’t expect. He let out a low, rumbling purr.
It was faint at first, like he was testing the waters, unsure if I’d accept it. But the moment that sound hit the air, I felt something shift inside me. The purr vibrated through the space between us, wrapping around me like a blanket. It was instinctual, primal—something that spoke to the deep, hidden parts of me that I’d tried to ignore for so long.
The purr grew louder, filling the space between us as he held me tight, like he was trying to keep me from slipping away entirely.
“I’ve got you,”
I think he whispered.
But I wasn’t sure if he did. Not after everything that had happened. Not after the betrayal, the lies, the heartbreak.
Still, the purr. It was the only thing keeping me tethered, the only thing keeping the darkness at bay.
And for now, I clung to it.
◆◆◆
The smell of fresh rain and leather lingered in the air, a scent that should’ve been comforting but only added to the disorientation swirling in my head. I was too drunk to remember whose scent it was, too far gone to piece together which Alpha had come to find me. I knew him, knew his scent like a distant memory, but I couldn’t place it, not with my mind drowning in alcohol and grief. My Omega stirred weakly, reaching for the comfort of the presence holding me, but I was too broken to acknowledge her needs. I didn’t have the strength.
I was bundled in something soft and fluffy, a towel, maybe a robe—I couldn’t tell. The Alpha held me close, wrapping me in warmth as I sagged against them, my body limp and drained.
We started moving. Familiar scents drifted around me—my sister’s perfume blurred together with the Alpha’s scent, forming a hazy cocoon around me. I closed my eyes, letting the gentle sway of his movements and the sound of his heartbeat lull me into a fragile calm.
My Alpha brushed the hair from my face, a gentle hand smoothing away the wet strands clinging to my skin.
Had I been crying? The thought barely registered before I slipped deeper into the haze. The Alpha holding me still purred, the low vibration rumbling through their chest. My Omega stirred again, weak but seeking the comfort of that sound, of the warmth and safety the Alpha promised. I let myself sink into it, into the purrs and the softness surrounding me. Sleep came easier this time, and I drifted off, the pain and heartache dulling in the distance.
Sometime later, I woke up to a pounding in my skull. My head throbbed as if someone was beating a drum inside it, each pulse more excruciating than the last. Groaning, I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the pain to stop. It didn’t.
I shifted in bed—wait, bed?—and the motion sent my stomach into a violent twist. I barely had time to register the nausea before I lurched to the side, fumbling blindly until my hand hit a bucket conveniently placed next to me. My stomach heaved, and I emptied what little was left inside me, the bile burning my throat as I retched over and over. The taste of alcohol and regret filled my mouth, the sensation tearing through me with each wave of sickness.
A familiar scent drifted over me again, cutting through the nausea. I felt a hand on my back, rubbing soothing circles between my shoulder blades as that same soft purr filled the room. The sound was meant to comfort, to calm, and somewhere deep in my broken soul, it worked. I leaned into the touch, though I didn’t have the energy to acknowledge the Alpha sitting beside me.
I glanced back, eyes bleary, and saw a blurry figure crouched next to me. I tried to focus, to see their face, but everything was too foggy, too disjointed. My vision blurred even more, and before I could gather my thoughts, the darkness swept over me once again.