Chapter twenty-nine
Lily
Idon’t know how long I’ve been walking. Could be half an hour, could be longer.
Long enough that my fingers aren’t even hurting anymore, which is probably a bad sign, right?
I should be worried, but mostly all I notice is how my hands don’t quite feel attached to me.
The road’s empty and dark, the streetlights way too far apart, so I move through these weird orange puddles of light and then back into pitch black, over and over, like the world keeps forgetting I exist and then snapping back to remember for a second.
Usually just long enough to hurt me again.
My t-shirt is a joke. Not in the funny way.
Night air in February isn’t just cold—it’s hostile.
It wraps around my arms like it’s got something to prove and squeezes until I can’t feel them at all.
I rub my hands up and down my arms, kind of desperate, but it doesn’t help.
My teeth are chattering so hard I think my jaw might fall off.
Every so often, I think about turning back. The idea pops up, every couple of minutes: go back, get your coat, take your meds, climb into bed and pretend this night never happened. Then Gabriel’s voice slithers in. Snake. Defective. Nobody wants you. Nobody ever will.
So I keep going. Funny how quickly cruel words start sounding true when you’re alone.
Town’s about two miles from the house. I’ve only ever been to this part once, in Garrett’s pickup, when he drove me to the OPA for my appointment with Arden.
It looked like something out of a postcard in the daytime—all small and cute, hardware store, diner, a couple of churches.
But at night it’s nothing but shadow shapes and the hum of a bar somewhere, neon signs glowing over a parking lot full of cars.
The bar’s on the main drag, windows lit up, music and laughter spilling out every time the door opens.
I cross the street so I won’t have to walk right past it.
The last thing I need is someone noticing me: omega, alone, no jacket, no phone, no pack.
Might as well tape a sign to my back that says “unclaimed, please harass.”
But I remember what Gabriel said. Alphas won’t bother me.
I’m almost past when the door bangs open and two alphas tumble out, laughing so hard they have to hang onto each other.
They’re big—not Cyrus size, but definitely not small—and the scent hits me before they even look up.
Beer, aggression, and that sour, no boundaries edge alphas get when they’ve been drinking too long.
One of them sort of freezes, head cocked, nostrils flaring.
“Well, well,” he says, elbowing the other. “Look what we’ve got here.”
I keep walking. Fast.
“Hey, beautiful, slow down,” he calls after me, and suddenly they’re both following, their steps all uneven. “An omega shouldn’t be out here alone. You need protection, sweetheart.”
“I’m fine,” I say, eyes on the sidewalk.
“She’s fine,” mocks the other one. “Yeah, she sounds fine. But she smells stressed.” He sniffs the air, loud and showy. “You stressed, darling?”
“Where’s your pack?” the first one asks. He’s close now, so close his scent pushes against mine, alpha pheromones poking at my nerves like fingers pressing a bruise.
“She doesn’t smell claimed,” the second one says, not joking anymore. “No bond mark. No pack scent. You out here solo?”
My blood goes cold. Every instinct in me remembers I’m small. All I can think is: wow, Gabriel, great time to be wrong about nobody ever wanting me.
They close in. I hear it—their footfalls. They’re not rushing, just kind of assuming I’ll fold. My omega instincts are screaming at me: submit, bare your neck, don’t fight or run and they’ll be gentle. But my legs? My legs are ready to bolt.
The bar door swings open again.
Two more alphas step out, and the vibe changes.
The first one is big. A broad shouldered, bearded alpha that fills the doorway and likely makes other alphas rethink their choices.
He doesn’t have to do anything to look tough; he just is.
The second one’s slimmer, and clocks me in about half a second.
The big guy takes in the scene and steps up. He doesn’t need to give a speech or throw around threats. He walks between me and the drunks and stares them down.
That’s all it takes.
The drunk alphas stop. The bigger one opens his mouth, but then thinks better of it. They mumble between themselves and shuffle off, suddenly super interested in getting back inside.
The big alpha watches them go before turning to me.
“You okay?” He doesn’t sound pushy or condescending. He speaks like he doesn’t want to spook me.
“I’m fine,” I say, which is hilarious because I’m shaking so hard I can barely stand. My arms are locked around my torso, trying to keep my insides in, and I probably look like a popsicle.
He doesn’t call me on it. He studies me—the way Cyrus does, seeing everything but not demanding answers—and then he shrugs off his jacket.
He drapes it over my shoulders and the heat trapped in the lining is immediate. I smell him even before I register it. Smoke and dark spices, wild and masculine. Nice. Not oh my god, alpha nice. More like the you’re safe kind of nice.
“Any alphas nearby?” he asks.
I shake my head.
The smaller alpha moves in, wary, his eyes gentle and a little sad in a way I know too well. “You got anywhere to go?”
“I…” It comes out shaky. “No.”
“Are you running from the registry?” he asks.
I hesitate, and he puts his hands up. “We only want to help. We’d never turn you in.”
“It’s not that,” I say. “I was staying with a pack. It didn’t work out.”
“So you ran?” the big one asks.
I shake my head again. “No. He made it clear he didn’t want me there. So I left.”
The big alpha frowns. “Who was it? I know a lot of people around here.”
I don’t want to say. Giving up Gabriel’s name to strangers feels like a betrayal even after what he said to me. “I can’t go back there.”
“Were you hurt?” His tone is soft. “Need a doctor?”
“No, nothing like that. Just… words. Ugly ones. But not physical.”
The smaller alpha glances at his friend. It’s that pack-mate look… a whole silent conversation without words. “Let’s get somewhere warmer,” he suggests.
The big one nods and turns to me. “Come with us? Just for tonight, until we figure something out. The apartment isn’t far.”
“I just want to get to my sister’s,” I admit. “She’s two hours north.”
“We’ll help you get there. But it’s freezing and you’re in a t-shirt. Come in, warm up, and tomorrow we’ll work it out. I’ll drive you up myself if you want.”
I glance at the smaller alpha. His eyes are open, believable. It’s obvious he gets it, somehow. Then the big guy, who should be scary, but isn’t. Not even a little. He gave me his jacket without asking. He shut down those drunk alphas without a single threat.
My omega screamed danger with the other alphas. She’s calm with these two. For once, I’m going to trust her.
“Okay,” I say. “Just for tonight.”
We walk together, the three of us, off the main road and into a quieter neighborhood. Nobody talks. The big alpha’s jacket is a cocoon around my shoulders—smoke and spice and warmth. It’s grounding. I let it in.
The building’s nothing fancy, but it’s clean. We take the elevator up and the apartment is what you’d expect: not much furniture, no decorations except a single framed photo on a shelf, and it’s warm enough inside that my fingers start stinging as they thaw.
I hand the jacket back. “Thank you.”
He nods, takes it. The smaller one heads into the kitchen and comes back with a glass of something that smells like brandy.
“It’s strong,” he says, handing it over. “But it’ll warm you faster.”
I take a cautious sip. It burns, but it’s a good burn, spreading heat through my veins. He’s right—it helps.
They gesture for me to take the couch, so I do. They sit across from me, giving space. The big one leans forward, arms braced on his knees.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks again. “You don’t have to tell us anything, but if you need something…”
“It’s really not what you’re thinking,” I say. “I was a guest in a pack that already had an omega. I was only there temporarily. The omega was established, I was the outsider, and it got… complicated. His alpha didn’t handle it well.”
The two look at each other, then back at me.
“It wasn’t anyone’s fault,” I add, which is only partly true. “Miles was there first and I was… extra. Not really wanted. They were trying to find me a pack of my own.”
The big alpha’s brows furrow like he’s surprised.
“Miles?” he asks. “You mean the Santos pack?”
My stomach drops. I hadn’t meant to say his name, but it’s out now.
I nod.
“Gabriel Santos drove you out?” the smaller one says, and he sounds honestly surprised. “That doesn’t sound like him.”
“I left on my own.” I spit it out, fast. “It was better for everyone.”
The big alpha starts to say something but I cut him off.
“He meant it. He said what he said. I’m not going back. I’d rather sleep outside.”
He holds up his hands, surrender. “Okay. Your call.” He stands. “Give me a second.”
He heads down the hall, talking low on the phone.
I sigh. I know how this goes. It’s why I didn’t want to say names.
The smaller alpha gives me a little apologetic smile. “He’s worried about you.”
“Gabriel’s probably celebrating. He’ll tell your friend good riddance.”
He shrugs. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
We sit in silence for a while, waiting.
The big one comes back, sits on the coffee table in front of me, close but not crowding, face serious and gentle at the same time.
“I’ve got Gabriel on the phone,” he says. “He wants to talk to you.”
“No.”
“Lily.” He waits until I meet his gaze. His eyes are so steady. “I promise, he’s not going to be cruel. He’s… honestly, he sounds nothing like I expected.”
“How do you mean?”
“He sounds scared, not angry. He’s worried about you.”
I glare at the phone, Gabriel’s name on the screen. The same man who called me defective is now scared?
My hand is shaking when I take the phone.