Chapter 21 Brodie
brODIE
The second I step into the inn, something feels wrong.
I expect to see Sophie curled up by the fire, her scent thick in the air, waiting for me. But the room is empty, the hearth still crackling, and the space feels too still.
I inhale deeply— her scent should be everywhere—sweet, grounding, thick with that tantalizing edge of heat she’s been fighting. But it’s faded. Too faint.
My muscles lock up, instincts flaring sharp and vicious.
She’s been gone too long.
My head snaps toward the door. Cold air rushes in as I step outside, the sharp bite of winter doing nothing to dull the fire roaring through my veins. Then I smell it—her.
Not just her scent. Her heat.
It hits me like a fist to the chest, thick and uncontained, weaving through the snow like a beacon. Fuck.
My instincts propel me forward, lethal and possessive. My pulse pounds against my skull as my nostrils flare, trying to track where she’s gone. She’s out here—alone. In heat. Vulnerable.
I call her name once. My voice comes out rough, more growl than words.
No answer.
The silence claws at me, worse than any nightmare I’ve ever had. My fingers tighten into fists as I yank my phone from my pocket, my breath coming fast, fogging in the cold air. My thumbs move on instinct, every second stretching too long.
Brodie: Sophie’s gone. She’s been outside too long. I can smell her heat from here. We need to find her—NOW.
Tyler’s response is immediate. Coming.
Ethan’s follows a second later. Where was she last?
I barely type out a response before I’m moving. Fast. My boots are crushing through the snow, following the delicate ribbon of scent curling through the night. I don’t need to see tracks to know where she went— her body is calling to me. To us.
She was already burning when I left. And now she’s out here, alone, lost in the cold, her body betraying her.
A deep, feral growl rumbles in my chest at the thought of someone else catching her scent first. An unclaimed Omega in heat is a fucking invitation to disaster.
I won’t let that happen.
I won’t let her be afraid.
I won’t let her be alone.
I’ll find her.
Even if I have to tear through the whole damn forest to do it.
The storm rages around me, the snow biting into my skin like tiny daggers, but none of it registers past the icy fear clawing at my chest.
Sophie is out here. Alone. And every second that passes without finding her tightens the vice around my ribs. My boots crunch through the deepening snow as I move forward, my flashlight beam cutting through the swirling white, barely illuminating the path ahead.
My breath comes in sharp bursts, visible in the freezing air, but I don’t slow down. I can’t slow down.
I push forward, every muscle in my body coiled, my Alpha instincts are raging at the thought of her out here, lost, vulnerable, burning. She needs me. She needs us.
I call her name, my voice raw and hoarse, lost to the wind.
No answer. The silence makes something dark coil in my gut.
A sharp shout pierces through the howling storm. “Here! I’ve got something!” It’s Ethan’s voice.
I whip my head around and spot him crouched a few feet ahead, his flashlight illuminating something in the snow.
Footprints. They’re faint but they’re hers.
“She came through here,” Ethan says, his voice tense.
I don’t wait for more confirmation. I take off, running.
Hold on, Sophie. Just hold on.
The trail is uneven, half-buried under the fresh snowfall, but I don’t stop. I push through, my legs burning, my breath ragged. My heart is hammering against my ribs, a frantic rhythm.
Find her, find her, find her.
Then—my flashlight catches something ahead.
A shape in the snow.
A body.
Sophie.
My stomach drops as I sprint forward, my boots slipping, but I don’t care. I fall to my knees beside her, my hands already moving, brushing snow away from her face, her hair.
Her cheeks are pale, too pale. Her lips are tinged blue.
She’s not moving.
“No. No, no, no.” My voice cracks as I press my fingers to her throat.
A heartbeat.
Faint. Too faint.
Relief and terror crash into me at the same time. She’s alive. Barely.
I scoop her up, cradling her against my chest. She’s freezing. The heat of her scent still lingers, thick with Omega desperation, but her body is cold, too cold. She’s caught between the fever of her heat and the brutal reality of the storm.
“I’ve got her!” I roar through the wind. “She’s alive!”
Footsteps pound toward me, Ethan and Tyler’s voices cutting through the storm. But I don’t stop. I need to get her inside.
The moment I step onto the inn’s porch, the door flies open, and warm air rushes out, chasing away the ice trying to cling to my skin.
Tyler and Ethan clear the way as I carry Sophie inside, my boots leaving wet prints across the wooden floor. The scent of burning wood and warmth wraps around us, but she doesn’t stir.
I lay her down on the sofa near the fire, my pulse hammering as I really see her.
She’s so still. Her breathing is shallow, and her skin is too cool.
Tyler is already moving, grabbing towels and warm water. Ethan yanks blankets from the back of the couch, shaking them out before draping them over her.
I kneel beside her, my hands flexing uselessly as I scan her face. Too pale. Too still.
A deep, desperate growl rumbles in my chest. “Come on, Sophie,” I whisper, my voice rough with emotion. “Stay with us.”
She doesn’t move.
I push my fingers through my hair, my control slipping. My Alpha is raging, instincts screaming at me to do something.
Ethan kneels on the other side of the couch, pressing the back of his hand to her cheek. His jaw tightens. “She’s burning up,” he mutters. “But she’s freezing, too. She’s stuck between her heat and the cold.”
Tyler kneels beside me, his hands hovering over her as if afraid to touch her. His face is grave, his usual easy grin nowhere to be found.
“She was scared,” he murmurs, his voice tight, “And now she’s paying for it.”
Something sharp stabs into my chest at his words. She ran. She left the safety of the inn, away from us, when she needed us most. Why?
“Maybe she didn’t know what was happening,” Ethan says, his voice quieter, his eyes locked on Sophie.
“She was already fighting it earlier,” I grind out. “Trying to handle it alone.”
Tyler exhales harshly, his hands running down his face before he stands abruptly, pacing the room. “Well, it didn’t fucking work.”
No, it didn’t.
Ethan shifts closer to Sophie, brushing damp hair from her forehead, his fingers barely grazing her skin. “She’s trying to wake up,” he murmurs. “Her breathing’s stronger.”
I clench my fists, willing myself to be patient, but every second she stays like this frays my control.
My Omega. Our Omega.
“Sophie,” I whisper, leaning closer, my lips brushing her temple. “We’re here. You don’t have to fight it anymore.”
Her fingers twitch.
My breath catches.
Ethan notices it, too, his brows drawing together in focused intensity. “She can hear us,” he says. “Keep talking.”
I reach for her hand, threading my fingers through hers, grounding myself in the touch. “You scared the hell out of us,” I murmur, forcing my voice to stay steady. “But we found you. We’ll always find you.”
Tyler kneels beside me again, exhaling slowly. “You don’t have to do this alone, Soph,” he adds. “Let us help you.”
A soft sound escapes her lips, and she shifts, just slightly, pressing into the warmth of the blankets.
Relief slams into me so hard that I feel dizzy.
She’s coming back to us.
Ethan lets out a slow breath, his fingers tightening on the blanket around her. “She’s stabilizing.”
With that the weight in my chest eases.
I don’t move from her side. None of us do.
The storm rages outside, but in here, she’s safe.
And we’ll make damn sure she stays that way.