16. Alexander
Chapter 16
Alexander
"I 'll be back in three days," I promise, cupping Fox's face in my hands. "Just long enough to make an appearance, calm Jonathan down, and come home."
Fox leans into my touch, his hazel eyes filled with a mixture of worry and resignation. The soft notes of honey and chamomile in his scent grow sharper with anxiety.
"I hate when you leave," he says quietly. "Especially to go back there." I press my forehead against his, breathing him in.
"I know. I hate it too." We're standing in the entryway of our hidden estate, morning light filtering through the tall windows. This place has been our sanctuary for four years—far from Crescent City, nestled deep in the mountains where no one would think to look for us. A place where Fox can exist without fear, where he doesn't have to hide what he is.
"You boys going to stand there all day saying goodbye, or is Alexander actually going to leave at some point?" Elena's voice breaks into our moment, warm with affection rather than impatience.
We turn to see her approaching from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. Over the years, Elena Olsen has become more than just Fox's mother—she's become mine too, in all the ways that matter. She provides the warmth and care I never really got from my own mother.
"Just finishing up," I tell her with a smile. She shakes her head fondly.
"You said that twenty minutes ago." She steps forward and straightens the collar of my shirt, a motherly gesture that still catches me off guard sometimes. "You have everything you need?"
"I think so."
"Extra clothes? Your medication? That book you were reading?" I laugh, feeling some of the tension ease from my shoulders.
"Yes, yes, and yes. I'm only going for three days, not three months."
"And you'll call every night," Fox adds. It's not a question.
"Without fail," I promise, turning back to him. "As soon as I can get away from Jonathan and his drama."
Elena hands me a small container. "Muffins for the road. The chocolate chip ones you like." Something warm unfurls in my chest at the simple kindness.
"Thank you, Elena."
"And this," she says, pressing a small bundle wrapped in a soft cloth into my hand. "It's just herbs. For tea. Help you sleep in the city."
I know without asking that she's made her special blend, the one she started preparing after noticing how restless I become when I have to return to Crescent City. The one that somehow helps quiet the demons that the city awakens in me.
"I don't deserve you two," I say, only half-joking. Elena clicks her tongue disapprovingly.
"None of that talk. You're family. This is what family does." Family. A concept so simple for her, so complicated for me. The Kingsley’s were never a family. We were a dynasty, a legacy, a power structure. What I have here with Fox and Elena is something entirely different. Something real.
"Be careful," Fox says, his voice dropping lower. "Your fathers?—"
"I know," I cut him off gently.
"I'll handle them. I always do." Fox's expression remains troubled.
"This is different. With the omega?—"
"Storm," I supply. "Her name is Storm."
"With Storm," he corrects himself. "It changes things. They'll be watching more closely." He's right, of course.
Storm rigging the draw to choose my pack has brought unwanted attention to all of us. The fragile peace we've maintained, the careful distance I've established, the secret of Fox's existence—all of it is at risk now. "I'll be careful," I promise.
"And I'll be back before you know it." I lean in and kiss him, soft at first, then with a deepening urgency that speaks of all the things I can't put into words. The fear of leaving him, the dread of returning to that city, the promise of coming home. When we break apart, I rest my forehead against his again.
"Be good while I'm gone," I murmur. Fox's lips quirk up into a small smirk.
"Where's the fun in that?" He teases me. I laugh and press one more quick kiss to his lips before stepping back.
"Fine. Be moderately bad. But stay safe."
"Always."
Elena steps forward and embraces me, her arms surprisingly strong for her small frame. She smells like baking and home.
"Take care of yourself, Alexander. And watch out for your brother. He needs you more than he'll ever admit." I nod against her shoulder, allowing myself one more moment of comfort before the hell I'm heading into.
"I will." With one last look at Fox, I step out into the crisp mountain air, toward the car that will take me back to Crescent City. Back to Jonathan, to Reed, to the Kingsley name and all the weight it carries. And to Storm, the wild card none of us planned for.
The drive back to Crescent City gives me too much time to think, to worry, to plan and re-plan how to handle this situation. Jonathan's explanations over the phone have told me the basics.
Storm rigged the lottery to pull our pack's name, likely as a distraction so she could escape to her beta-born alpha, Rook. Instead, Jonathan not only claimed Storm, but he also resigned from the Omega House and took her home, making it impossible to simply let her go without drawing attention to ourselves, the entire lottery, and how easy it is to rig a winner.
What a mess.
Part of me understands exactly what Storm was trying to do. If anyone knows about forbidden love and desperate measures, it's me. I've spent four years hiding Fox from the world, protecting him from a system that would either destroy him or use him.
I can't bring myself to hate someone who was just trying to get back to the person they love. But another part of me is terrified of what her actions might mean for all of us.
Our fathers are watching. The public is watching. If this goes wrong, if our carefully constructed facade cracks, it won't just be Jonathan and Reed who pay the price. It will be me. It will be Fox. It will be everything we've built.
I push those thoughts away as I near the city limits. The rain starts as if on cue, thick sheets of it streaming down the windshield as the mountains give way to suburbs and then to the gleaming towers of Crescent City. By the time I park in the underground garage of the building, my shoulders are tight with tension.
The private elevator requires a security code. I punch it in, watching the numbers climb to the penthouse level. What am I walking into? An angry omega? A brother at the end of his patience? Reed caught in the middle and being a dick? And now a pack beta I know nothing about, thrown into this mess as a last-minute solution to our fathers' demands?
The elevator doors slide open, and I step out into the penthouse, mentally bracing myself for whatever awaits me. What I find is not what I expected. Storm is smaller than I anticipated, with wild auburn curls and fierce gray eyes that widen in surprise when she sees me.
Her legs are bare. She might have shorts on underneath, but they are swallowed up by the oversized hoodie she wears that hides the rest of her frame. Despite her size, there's something magnetic about her presence that catches me off guard. An energy that immediately draws me in.
The scent hits me immediately—dark chocolate, rich and intoxicating, filling the penthouse with its intensity. My body reacts before I can control it, an electric current running down my spine and heat pooling low in my stomach.
Unlike my brother, who probably fights this attraction every moment, I allow myself to appreciate it, to let her omega fragrance wrap around me like a welcome embrace.
It's mixed with something sweeter—toasted marshmallows and cinnamon—that must be the beta. They're both flustered, standing too quickly, a deck of cards scattered between them.
I find myself smiling, relaxing into the unexpected pleasure of her presence. "Hi," I say, breaking the awkward silence. "I'm Alexander. You must be Storm." I can't help the slight drop in my tone, the natural warmth creeping in.
Her eyes narrow slightly as she studies me, clearly noting the similarities between Jonathan and me.
"Must be," she replies, her voice carrying an edge of defiance. "Let me guess—the approachable twin?"
I laugh, the sound surprising even to myself. It's been a while since I've genuinely laughed in this city.
"I like to think so, but Jonathan would disagree."
"Jonathan can kiss my ass," she says, then tenses slightly, as if expecting me to react badly to her disrespect. Instead, I laugh again.
"I'll be sure to pass that along. He'll be thrilled." She relaxes slightly, confusion flashing across her face. She clearly doesn't know what to make of me yet. I turn to the beta, extending my hand.
"And you must be Frankie." He steps forward hesitantly, his hand warm as he shakes mine.
"Yes, sir. Nice to meet you."
"Please, it's just Alex," I correct him. "Can I get either of you something to drink? Water? Coffee?”
"Water would be great," Frankie says, still looking slightly overwhelmed.
"I'll take something stronger if you've got it," Storm declares, defiance in every line of her body. I grin at her.
"Woman after my own heart. Unfortunately, it's barely noon, and I don't think Jonathan would appreciate me getting his omega drunk while he's out."
"I'm not his omega," she fires back, but without the venom I expected.
"Fair enough," I concede, moving toward the kitchen. "Water it is, then."
I fetch three glasses of water, giving myself a moment to assess the situation. They're both on edge, but not in the way I expected. There's tension, yes, but it's not the hostility I anticipated from Storm or the fear I expected from the beta. Something else is at play here.
When I return, they've both taken seats again, though now on opposite ends of the couch rather than side by side. Interesting. I hand them each a glass and take a seat across from them.
"So," I say casually, "I hear you've had quite the introduction to Pack Kingsley." Storm snorts.
"That's one way to put it."
"Yeah, being kidnapped and locked in a luxury prison tends to make a bad first impression," I say dryly. Her eyes widen slightly, clearly not expecting me to acknowledge the reality of her situation.
"You admit it's a prison?" I shrug.
"Let's call it what it is. You didn't want to be here. You'd rather be with your alpha, Rook, right?" She glances at Frankie, then back to me, wariness in her gaze.
"Is this a trick?"
"No trick," I assure her. "Just trying to understand the situation better."
She studies me for a long moment, then seems to make a decision.
"Yes. I'd rather be with Rook. I was planning to slip away in the chaos, meet Rook, and disappear."
"But Jonathan threw you over his shoulder and ruined your grand escape," I finish for her.
"Exactly," she says, leaning forward slightly. "So, if you understand all that, why not just let me go? Release me, say it was a mistake, and we all move on with our lives."
I wish it were that simple. I really do. But nothing involving the Kingsley name is ever simple.
"Because it doesn't work that way," I explain gently. "It was public, in front of the entire city. If he releases you now, it makes him look weak. Makes our whole pack look weak."
"So this is about pride?" she challenges. "Partly," I admit. "But it's also about power. About maintaining the structure that keeps all of this—" I gesture around us "—in place. The Kingsley name carries weight. It comes with expectations, responsibilities."
"Burdens," she suggests.
"Those too," I agree, surprising her again.
"Look, I'm not saying it's fair. Hell, I'm not even saying I agree with it. But that's the reality we're dealing with." She falls silent, processing my words. Frankie watches her with a mixture of concern and something else—something that makes me curious about the nature of their relationship.
"Your brother's an asshole," Storm says finally. I can't help but laugh.
"He can be, yes."
"And Reed's not much better."
"Reed's..." I search for the right words. "Reed's complicated. He's had a rough go of it. But he's loyal to a fault."
"To Jonathan," she clarifies.
"To all of us," I correct. "Pack is pack." She scoffs at that, rolling her eyes.
"Right. The sacred bond of pack. How could I forget?"
"You don't believe in it?" I ask, genuinely curious.
"I believe in people, not designations," she says firmly. "I believe in choosing who you want to be with, not being forced into it because of biology or tradition or some bullshit lottery."
God, no wonder she's driving Jonathan crazy. She's everything he's been taught to control, to suppress, to keep in check. She's fire where he's ice, chaos where he's order. And yet, there's something refreshing about her honesty, her refusal to play by the rules.
"I can see why he's struggling with you," I say with a grin. "You're his worst nightmare."
"I try," she replies, a smirk playing at her lips.
"And you, Frankie," I turn to the beta, who startles at being directly addressed. "How are you finding pack life so far?" He shifts uncomfortably.
“It's... different, sir—I mean, Alex. Very different from the Omega House."
"Better or worse?"
"Better food," he says cautiously. "Bigger rooms. More... freedom, I guess?"
"But?" I prompt, sensing the hesitation in his voice. He glances at Storm, who gives him an encouraging nod.
"But it's strange," he admits. "Being part of a pack when we're not really... when it's not..."
"When it's all been thrown together without the normal protocols?" I finish for him. "I understand that feeling all too well."
Storm's eyes narrow at that, her gaze suddenly more assessing. "Do you now?" I realize I've said too much and quickly change course.
"So, what did my brother and Reed tell you about me?"
"Absolutely nothing," Storm says bluntly. "I didn't even know Jonathan had a twin until your fathers mentioned you." That surprises me.
"My fathers came here?"
"Yesterday morning," she confirms. "They were... charming." I wince, knowing exactly how "charming" our fathers can be.
"I'm sorry you had to deal with them."
"They seemed very interested in your whereabouts," she adds, watching me carefully. "Something about your absence being 'noticed.'"
Damn it, Jonathan, why didn’t you tell me this? "Did they now?"
"Where have you been, Alexander?" she asks, her tone light but her eyes sharp. "Everyone seems very concerned about your extended absence."
"Here and there," I say vaguely. "I've been handling some personal matters."
"For four months?" she presses.
"Has it been that long?" I feign surprise. "Time flies when you're having fun." She looks like she's about to push further, but Frankie interrupts.
"We were playing cards when you arrived," he says, gesturing to the scattered deck. "Do you play?" Bless him for the distraction.
"I do, actually. What's your game?"
"Gin rummy," Storm answers, her eyes still studying me with uncomfortable intensity. "Though I'm open to other suggestions."
"Poker?" I offer, unable to resist teasing her a little. "I warn you, though, I have an excellent poker face. Runs in the family." She snorts.
"Jonathan doesn't have a poker face. He has a permanent scowl that occasionally softens into a slightly less severe scowl."
I laugh so hard I nearly spill my water. "That's the most accurate description of my brother I've ever heard."
She grins, and for a moment, I catch a glimpse of who she might be under different circumstances—bright, witty, gorgeously untamed. I understand a little better why Jonathan is so flustered by her. She sees through the facade, through the careful control, to the person beneath.
As if sensing my thoughts, her scent suddenly intensifies, dark chocolate notes flooding the room as she perfumes unconsciously. Unlike Jonathan, who would probably tense up and fight against his response, I let myself enjoy it, breathing her in without hiding my appreciation.
"You know," I say with a relaxed smile, leaning forward slightly, "if Jonathan had mentioned how enchanting you are, I might have come back to the city sooner."
Storm's eyebrows shoot up, a flush spreading across her cheeks, but her eyes sparkle with something like amusement. "Careful, Kingsley. Your brother might not appreciate you flirting with his omega ."
"Ah, but you're not his omega, remember?" I counter with a playful smirk. "You just said so yourself."
She laughs despite herself. The sound lightening the atmosphere between us. Frankie watches our exchange with wide eyes, clearly unused to seeing anyone interact with Storm this way.
"Jonathan did mention you're more approachable," Frankie offers hesitantly.
"He said that?" I raise an eyebrow, genuinely surprised, still holding Storm's gaze a moment longer than strictly necessary.
"His exact words were 'Alex is nothing like me,'" Storm clarifies. "I took that as a compliment to you."
"As you should," I agree with a smile. "Jonathan and I may look alike, but we've always been very different."
“How so?” she asks, curiosity replacing some of the wariness in her eyes. I consider how to answer. How do I explain the fundamental differences between Jonathan and me without revealing too much? How do I describe growing up in the same house but living entirely different experiences?
"Jonathan was raised to be the heir," I say finally. "To carry on the Kingsley legacy, to uphold the family name, to be everything our fathers wanted. I was... not."
"The spare," Storm supplies, her voice softer than before.
"Something like that," I agree. "It meant different expectations, different pressures. Jonathan had to be perfect. I just had to stay out of the way."
"That sounds lonely," Frankie says quietly. I meet his gaze, surprised by his insight.
"It was. For both of us, in different ways." Storm watches this exchange with interest.
"So, why are you here now? After four months of being conveniently absent, you show up right when Jonathan needs you to play the united front for your fathers?" Her bluntness is refreshing, even if the question stings.
"That's about the size of it," I admit. "Jonathan called, said he needed me back. So here I am."
"Just like that?" she presses. "You drop everything and come running when he calls?"
"He's my brother," I say simply. "My twin. For better or worse, we're bound to each other." Something in my tone must convey the weight of those words, because she doesn't push further. Instead, she picks up the deck of cards, shuffling them with surprising skill.
"Well, since you're here," she says, "you might as well make yourself useful and lose to me at gin rummy." I can't help but laugh at her audacity.
"You're that confident?"
"I've beaten Frankie consistently for four years," she declares, shooting him a teasing glance. "I'm pretty sure I can handle you, Kingsley."
"We'll see about that," I say, accepting the challenge with a grin. "Deal me in."
As Storm deals the cards, I find myself relaxing for the first time since entering the city limits. Her fingers move deftly, with a confidence that's captivating to watch. I catch myself studying the delicate curve of her wrist, the way her wild curls fall across her face as she concentrates.
Whatever I expected to find here, it wasn't this vibrant, magnetic woman who makes me forget, if only for a moment, about all the dangers waiting just outside these walls. There's something about Storm that lights up the room, that makes even this cold penthouse feel alive.
Of course, I know better than to get comfortable. My fathers are watching. The public is waiting. Jonathan is planning. And somewhere in the shadows, Rook Holloway is searching for the omega he loves.
But for now, in this moment, I'll play cards with Storm and Frankie, let myself enjoy her intoxicating scent and quick wit, and pretend that the weight of the Kingsley name isn't pressing down on all of us.
And maybe, just maybe. I'll figure out a way to help her find the freedom we all deserve.