Chapter 53 Lucy & Kane
LUCY & KANE
LUCY.
My heart hammered against my ribs as the car glided to a stop in front of the house.
I… I… I couldn't move.
My hands remained frozen on my lap. At some point during the drive, I’d knit my fingers together and they’d stayed interlocked, unable to separate.
The wound across my abdomen seemed to pulse with each heartbeat.
The throbbing was a nonstop reminder. You were hurt.
You were in the hospital. You’ve been away for weeks.
This house might still be a place of hurt, not a home.
It can’t all be fake, I told myself for the million time, countering my spiraling worries.
Remember how they’ve treated you lately.
Remember the feel of Xander’s arm wrapped protectively around you.
Remember the kinship you felt with Asher.
Remember the fierce longing in Fallon’s eyes.
Remember how Nitro’s sharpness has softened.
Remember Kane’s gentle touch when he placed the pillow.
I held onto these small memories like they could solve everything.
“Home again, home again.” Kane’s voice was pitched softly. I didn’t look over at him. My eyes were glued to the house, roving over inch of it.
I didn’t know what I expected, other than I believed there should be something different about the place.
Everything else had shifted. Yet, here this building was, unaffected.
The windows. The stonework. The columns and steps.
All the same. And the door too. How long had it been since I first walked through it wearing the protective suit?
Why did it seem like seconds and years ago simultaneously?
Fallon exited the driver's side, pressing the door closed behind him with a soft click. Kane got out roughly, slamming his door with enough force to make the sedan tremble. Neither seemed to notice I hadn't moved.
I was alone in the car now, but Kane’s words echoed like they had a life of their own. Home again. Home again. Home… Did I truly want that? Did I truly want them? Was it just my Omega recognizing acceptable mates?
No, it wasn’t that they were enough of a match to tempt my inner nature.
They were the only match. Setting aside Eros’s claim that our six unique scents were miraculously compatible, I could honestly say that these men spoke to every part of me, beyond a glandular level.
They spoke to my heart, my soul, my mind.
They spoke to the isolated child. The teen losing hope. The woman waiting to die.
I jumped in my seat, sending an ache through my belly, when Kane appeared at my window. He must have seen my reaction, because he frowned and opened the door slowly before squatting down next to the car. His dark eyes found mine immediately.
“Did I scare you?” His eyes tightened, his expression pained.
“No, it’s okay.” My fingers finally released one another. I flattened one palm against the pillow, pressing its plushness against the stitches. The pressure helped the pain subside.
“I didn’t scare you, but it’s okay?” He quirked an eyebrow, a smile teasing his lips.
I smiled at him, blushing. “Okay, you scared me a little. And, yes, it’s okay.”
I’ve no idea what made me do it, but I reached out and cupped my small hand against his face. Kane froze for a heartbeat, then leaned into my touch, his lovely brown eyes closing.
"You plannin’ on sleeping in the car tonight?" he murmured, his tone carrying a gentle quality that made my heart ache.
“Maybe,” I replied softly, never wanting to pull my hand away. We could just stay like this forever.
Kane’s lashes fluttered apart, his gaze searching my face.
Slowly, managing to keep his cheek pressed against my warm hand, he reached to unfasten the buckle.
I moved my other hand, pressing it against his chiseled chest. The small, colorful pillow fell to the floorboard.
Up close, his scent engulfed me. Touching his face and his chest made my skin tingle and sent ribbons of need stretching through every part of me.
It touched corners and shadows I didn’t know existed.
I moaned involuntarily, my inner Omega hungrily stretching, and not caring one bit that I was still healing.
Kane pulled away, breaking our physical contact. His gaze was dark now, full of unchecked desire. He seemed to give himself a full body shake before standing up and offering me his hands.
"Come on, Princess," he murmured. "Let's get you inside."
I placed my palms against his, allowing him to help me from the car. The moment I stood, a wave of dizziness swept over me. My legs trembled beneath me, and Kane's arm immediately circled my waist, steadying me against his solid frame.
"I'm fine," I murmured, embarrassment heating my cheeks. "Really, I can walk."
But when I tried to take a step, my body betrayed me. I swayed dangerously, and Kane's grip tightened.
"Sure, you can," he said, his voice a low rumble beside my ear. "But not today."
Before I could protest further, he bent and swept me into his arms in one fluid motion. I gasped, instinctively wrapping my arms around his neck to steady myself. My stomach protested the sudden movement, the healing wound pulling.
"Did I hurt you?" Kane asked, freezing in place, his eyes scanning my face for signs of pain. “Shit. First I scare you, then I’m too rough.”
I shook my head. "Just a twinge. I'm okay."
He didn’t look convinced.
“Really,” I smiled at him, putting every bit of warmth I could gather into the look, “I’m fine.”
He nodded, relieved, and began walking. Fallon appeared next to us then, as if he’d been hanging back to give us a private moment. Panic began to rise inside me again as the front door grew closer. I curled tighter into Kane’s body, his heartbeat becoming a steadying rhythm beneath my ear.
“Tell me something new about cars,” I said softly, remembering our endless hospital conversations and looking for any subject to take my mind off things
“Like what?” Kane glanced down, then back up to watch where he was going.
“That Mustang you restored when you were nineteen. You said you’d tell me how you replaced the entire exhaust system yourself."
Kane let out a deep, throaty chuckle that vibrated through his chest and into mine. "I ramble when I'm nervous," he admitted, “mostly about cars.”
I thought for a moment, his words registering. "So, in the hospital, I must have been making you really nervous."
His expression softened, the slightest hint of smile changing the shape of his mouth. "From the minute you stepped onto the property in that silly suit, you've been making me nervous, Lucy."
The simple honesty stole my breath. No artifice, no bravado, just unfiltered truth.
Fallon mounted the steps and reached the door before us. He made quick work of pushing the entrance wide open and stepping aside.
And then I saw them.
Standing just inside, arranged in the entryway that opened to the living room. Nitro, auburn hair messier than ever. Asher, bright blue eyes cutting across the distance between us. And Xander very nearly smiling.
They were all here…
For me.
Not at the Cirque. Not handling business or chasing adrenaline or whatever else these men did with their time. But here to welcome me back.
I’d stopped myself from crying so many times, but the dam broke inside me now. Emotions too powerful to name seemed to violently exit my body. An exorcism of grief, doubt, longing, hope. Would they see me as weak again? It didn’t matter. I didn't have the strength to fight my own feelings.
The first tear slipped down my cheek, then another, and another, until they flowed freely. I didn't turn away or hide my face against Kane's chest. I didn't apologize for the display of weakness. I just let the tears come.
I let myself feel the overwhelming everything of what it means to be alive.
"Hey," Kane whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "It's okay, Lucy. You're home now."
Home. There was that word again. It echoed in my mind as I looked at these five men. They’d hated me and hurt me. Now, against all odds, it felt like they were trying to save me. It felt like there was a space in their lives that might, someday, become my own.
Home is a four-letter word.
Like hate.
It’s also a four-letter word like live and love.
KANE.
Carrying Lucy felt like holding a live bomb. Only I was the one with the lit fuse.
Every part of me was hyper-aware of her slight weight, the delicate curve of her spine against my forearm, the soft sound of her breathing, the way she tucked herself closer, pressing her cheek against my chest.
Sunflowers. Daisies. Clean cotton. Lemonade.
An undercurrent of anxiety. Her Omega perfume clouded the air around us, making my inner Alpha pace restlessly beneath my skin.
Mine. She belongs to me. Here. I won’t ever let her leave.
The words pulsed through my bloodstream with each heartbeat.
Mine to protect. Mine to cherish. Mine to.
.. No. Ours. But damn if part of me didn't want to turn around, head toward the garage instead of the front door, and steal a few precious moments alone with her before sharing her with my damn brothers.
I hesitated at the threshold as Fallon held the door open.
For a split second, I seriously considered it—breaking ranks, carrying her to my private sanctuary among the tools and engine parts.
But then she’d sucked in a breath of surprise, those gold-flecked green eyes widening as she spotted my brothers waiting inside, and her scent lost its anxious edge, becoming all sweetness.
The tears that followed made my chest tighten painfully.
I'd spent the past two weeks rambling like an idiot at her bedside, bombarding her with stories about everything from my first motorcycle to the finer points of engine maintenance.
Anything to distract her from the beeping machines, the prodding doctors, the confinement that reminded her too much of her past. Anything to see that small smile curve her lips when I said something particularly ridiculous.
She'd listened, though, asking questions that showed I wasn’t boring her to tears.
When she'd asked if I would teach her to work on a car someday, I'd nearly swallowed my tongue.
The image of Lucy in the garage with me—those delicate hands working a wrench, her silver hair tied back, a pair of coveralls hanging off her small body, maybe a smudge of grease on her cheek—it had hit me like a physical blow.
My brothers didn’t say anything as we approached. They parted like the red sea, letting me carry Lucy past them. I felt her stiffen when I turned left past the kitchen bar, my destination obvious: the bullshit bedroom, fire-damaged and bare.
“I promise it’s different this time,” I assured her.
I thought back to that day.
How callous we'd been. How fucking arrogant. Our simple plan of scaring our scent match away had seemed easy. We’d turned this house into a horror show. We’d flaunted the artifacts of our sexual conquests in her face. We’d given her nothing but a stained mattress and buckets for a bathroom.
But nothing was simple with Lucy. She’d taken the worst from us and kept going.
I wanted to take her to Otto’s again. I wanted to show her what that place really meant to me. Would she agree to go? She’d almost died at my hands there, the damn tower of wreckage nearly collapsing atop her because I’d let my inner devil get the best of me.
If I'd known what would happen at the Cirque... But no. That hadn't been my fault, no matter how doggedly my mind tried to irrationally connect the dots between the two incidents. Different venues, different dangers. The flagpole had been a freak accident, not karmic punishment for my sin.
The only silver lining to that horrific event had been the way it united us—five stubborn Alphas finally admitting what we'd been fighting for weeks.
Lucy wasn't just an Omega, wasn't just a scent match or a contract stipulation.
She was essential. She was our stability.
She was our tomorrow. Every. Single. Damn. Tomorrow.
"You're frowning," she whispered, one finger tentatively touching the crease between my eyebrows. The gentle contact sent a jolt through me, and I forced my expression to soften.
I’d stopped walking. When had I stopped walking?
I was holding her, just outside the bedroom.
"Just thinking," I replied, not opening the door, not moving us forward.
Xander came up beside us. Wordlessly, He reached for the knob and turned it, swinging the entrance inward. I felt the rest of my pack behind me waiting, nervous notes threading through their Alpha colognes.
We'd spent days preparing the room.
We'd argued for hours over every detail—the mattress firmness, the thread count of the sheets, the down comforter, the shade of green for the walls, the lace curtains. The crystal chandelier over the bed cast rainbow prisms across the space. At some point, Fallon had remembered the large suitcase that had arrived with Lucy. He’d pulled it out of the garage where we’d shoved it next to the box of shame on the shelving.
After dusting it off, he’d placed it in the bedroom closet.
The sight of it, unopened, its contents unused, made fresh waves of guilt wash over me.
Had we really been such assholes that we’d taken away her things and given her literal fucking rags.
Yeah. We’d really been such assholes.
Lucy’s forest eyes were taking the bedroom changes in. Fresh tears slowly tracked down her cheeks. Was she happy? Was she sad?
I placed her gently on the bed, propping pillows behind her back so she could sit comfortably without straining her wound.
Her silver-white hair fanned out across the dark pillowcase, and for a moment, I couldn't breathe.
We were idiots for trying to push her away.
We should have been pulling her close all this time.
When I stepped back, my brothers had formed a semicircle around the bed. I worried she’d feel caged, worried she’d see a wall of pain instead of protection. I wanted our Omega to feel safe.
No, not our Omega. Not yet. Maybe not ever, if she couldn't forgive the hurt we'd caused.
Lucy was still quietly looking around the room. Her lower lip quivered. Her cheeks were blush kissed, that soft pink making the rest of her pale skin glow.
I glanced around at my brothers, and I knew we were all thinking the same thing: Please stay. Please give us a chance to be what you need.