Daybreak
Skyla
Light cuts through the back of my eyelids, waking me.
I scrunch my face and rub my eyes hard before I peel them open.
For a second, I don’t know where I am. It also doesn't help that my head drums slow and heavy, like someone stuffed my skull with wet cotton and hit it with a brick.
My body aches in places I forgot could ache, and my tongue feels disgusting.
I shift slightly, and pain flares low in my spine. There’s a dull throb between my legs that pulls fragmented memories to the surface. Heat. Skin. A voice in my ear, low and rough.
Knox.
Where did he go?
I’m all alone in the dim tent. Pale morning light seeps through the seams. I’m curled on top of a pile of blankets, naked except for the green quilt pulled around my shoulders.
I clamp it tighter, trying to keep the chill that creeps up through the ground at bay—the canvas is thin under me, and the dirt below is cool and damp.
When I drag the blanket closer to my face I stop.
It smells like him.
Smoky cherry and sweat, and something sharper underneath—me.
Our scents are tangled together in the soft fabric.
My cheeks burn before I can stop them as my nose instinctively buries itself deeper into the fabric.
I inhale without meaning to, and my entire chest pulls tight with something raw and needy.
I close my eyes for a second and memories rush in, hot and embarrassing. Knox’s rough hands and his heavy weight. The way I clung to him and begged him to fuck me again and again. Shame prickles across my skin.
God.
How the hell could I do that with a stranger?
I guess I should be thankful he didn’t knot me…not yet anyway. Not until he puts his mating bite on me.
I can’t help but think about the horrible sting of a knot popping in place, but the tense minutes until it deflates is probably the worst part. Brayden used to threaten to rip his knot out of me, telling me I was wasting his time, being locked inside me like that.
I can’t help but wonder if all alphas secretly hate knotting their omegas.
Or maybe it was just that my pack hated me.
Sound outside the tent catches my attention.
A voice murmurs like someone is talking to themselves.
The man’s voice is low and calm, but too far away to understand.
Curious, I push myself up on my knees, then crawl.
The canvas bites at my palms and knees, making my joints ache.
I grit my teeth and crawl forward anyway.
Quiet. Controlled. Careful.
At the flap, I lower myself onto my stomach and press an elbow to the ground, angling my eye to a tiny hole beside the zipper. It’s barely a slit, but it’s enough.
There’s a firepit maybe twenty feet away, still glowing faintly. Someone is standing beside it, rubbing their arms and shifting from foot to foot like they’re trying to stay warm. It's the beta from last night. I think his name is Dakota.
He’s fresh-faced with short, spiky brown hair that looks like it’d crunch if you touched it. He’s wearing a thin T-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants, and that’s it. No shoes. No jacket. Not even a sweater.
He must be freezing.
While the trees are still green, the air feels like fall. Crisp and dry. It’s the kind of weather that tells you fall has started, even if the leaves haven’t caught on yet.
I watch the beta for another second, then angle my head, trying to see as much of the campsite as I can.
Where’s Knox?
Did he leave?
My eye drifts back to the firepit when new movement catches my attention.
Someone else has joined Dakota. Alex or Alec? I can’t remember. He’s taller, broader. Definitely an alpha. He has shaggy red hair that hangs just past his ears. It’s wind-tousled and wild, it falls over his eyes as he leans down and kisses Dakota softly on the mouth. “Morning, baby.”
Dakota smiles like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like he’s been kissed by that mouth a thousand times before. “Morning,” he says, voice a little sleepy, but warm.
“You need to put on a hoodie before you turn into a damn popsicle,” the redhead grumbles, nudging Dakota with an easy elbow.
“Says the guy in shorts,” Dakota shoots back, raising one brow.
Alex—I think—snorts. “Alphas run hot. You know that.” He definitely doesn’t look warm.
His chest is bare and smooth, and so incredibly pale. He’s actually kind of beautiful with his dark blue eyes and long slim nose. He looks like a porcelain doll carved with perfectly sculpted muscle.
Then I see the scars.
They slice across his chest in pale lines, some faint, others deeper, and my stomach turns with a flash of recognition. They look just like the ones Knox has. Not exactly the same pattern, but close enough.
What the hell happened to these alphas?
“How’d you sleep?” Alex asks, stepping closer to the firepit.
Dakota shrugs. “Honestly? Pretty damn good.”
Alex grins sideways at him. “You could sleep on a pile of rocks and call it ‘the best night ever.’”
Dakota huffs a laugh. “It’s a talent of mine.”
Their banter is easy. Light. And something about it makes me pause.
They seem so comfortable in each other’s space.
Affectionate. It’s… surprising. Dakota looks like he’s in his early twenties, maybe.
Around my age. I wouldn’t have pegged him as someone bonded to a pack already.
He looks so young and carefree, while the alphas he chose appear to have very violent pasts. Especially with all those scary scars.
Dakota laughs and runs a hand through his hair as another figure walks toward them.
A third alpha.
I vaguely remember him from last night.
He dresses like he lives in a different world.
He’s wearing a loose-fitting green polo, with the collar neat and the fabric looking practically wrinkle-free.
It’s tucked into a pair of dark, perfectly pressed jeans.
His short hair is neatly styled, not a strand out of place, and his tan skin almost glows in the cool morning light.
He looks so out of place.
What was his name?
I can't remember. Just that it was kind of weird.
The proper alpha pauses at the edge of the firepit, expression calm and distant, like his thoughts are half a world away. Alex glances his way, offers a nod, but doesn’t speak.
Then Knox appears.
And my breath catches.
He’s wearing only a pair of dark briefs, low on his hips, and nothing else.
He looks like he stepped out of a river, hair wet and eyes half-lidded.
Water drips from one long lock of hair, trailing down the curve of his pec and over his soft middle.
The sight sends a shiver straight through me, making my muscles ache all over again.
I can’t help but think about how pathetic I was last night. So desperate. Clinging to Knox like he was air. I let him do unspeakable things. And now he’s just…standing there, intense but somehow still relaxed, like he didn’t spend all night wrecking me inside and out.
And I can’t stop looking at him.
Knox walks toward the others, shoulders loose, eyes half-lidded with sleep or calm or something I can’t name. He nods at the proper-looking alpha, then at Alex and Dakota. He doesn’t smile, but the tension in his jaw eases when Dakota grins at him.
“Damn,” Alex tilts his head, looking Knox up and down. “Did you fall in the river or are you showing off?”
“Cold water wakes you up,” Knox grunts.
“So does coffee,” Dakota says with a smirk.
Knox shoots him a look, and the beta only smiles wider—though there’s warmth in it now, the teasing softening into affection. Alex chuckles and reaches out, running a hand briefly down Knox’s wet back. It’s casual and affectionate, but not possessive. The same way he touched Dakota earlier.
I watch, breathing softly, trying to make sense of it.
This isn’t the brutal, growling alpha-pack I was expecting. They’re easy with each other. Touching without anger or dominance. It’s disarming.
But then the proper-looking alpha shifts, and his eyes flicker toward the tent.
I freeze, breath caught in my throat.
For a heartbeat, we just—hold. Then the alpha looks away. No change in his expression. No sudden tension. He didn’t see me. He just glanced in my direction by chance.
I let out a slow breath, forcing myself to stay as still as possible as he turns his attention back to the smoldering firepit.
“Tadeo,” Knox says, voice low but direct. “What’s wrong?”
That’s his name! I knew it was unusual.
Tadeo shakes his head once, like he's brushing the question off, and then says, “Wondering how it went last night.”
Knox runs a hand through his wet hair, pauses mid-motion like he’s still sorting through the answer.
“It went really well,” he says finally, but the words come out slow, uncertain.
Like he’s trying to convince himself more than them.
I feel something tighten in my chest. Then he adds, quieter, “She cried during—” and the sentence hangs, unfinished.
Alex’s grin slips, and Dakota’s face falls completely.
Tadeo’s shoulders droop ever so slightly, like that’s exactly the answer he’d feared.
Knox presses the heel of his hand against one eye, then he lets out a heavy breath. “I’m scared I hurt her.”
“No,” Alex snaps, moving forward like he wants to punch the idea away. His voice is too loud in the cold. “Knox, it could’ve been anything. You know omegas get overwhelmed really easily. Especially the first time they’re claimed by a new pack.”
“She also had a really hard day,” Dakota adds, softer than I expect. “I’m sure all those awful drugs they pumped into her didn’t help.” His jaw clenches, like he’s upset.
“Don’t torture yourself,” Alex says to Knox, voice hardening into command. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
I blink down at the canvas beneath me, guilt prickling hot under my skin. He didn’t hurt me. But clearly I acted in a way that made him think I was unhappy with the things he did. I vaguely remember asking him to stop…or did I just think that?
Either way, I’ll have to convince him that he did everything right. Because happy alphas create calm houses.
“We need to get moving,” Knox says, and I look up.
He looks so conflicted as he drags a hand down his face.
“Being out in this weather for too long isn’t good for omegas.
” He gestures vaguely toward the tent—toward me.
“Alex. Tadeo,” his tone changes, commanding, “get everything rounded up. I want to be on the road in twenty minutes.”
My heart lurches.
Shit.
I scramble backward, trying not to rustle the canvas, heart pounding in my chest. My body protests the sudden movement—everything still sore and stiff—but I force myself to crawl as quietly as I can across the cold floor and dive back into the mess of blankets.
Then I flop onto my side, pull the green one tight around my shoulders, and close my eyes.
My mind races, even as I try to slow my breathing, to make my body still and soft like I’m deep in sleep. The last thing I want is for them to know I was listening.
Will they see it as defiance? An invasion? Or some kind of disrespect?
How would they punish me?
Spanking?
Beating?
Scream at me until I "learn my place?"
I hate that I have no idea what their rules are.
Brayden was a little extreme sometimes—or I assume he was—but all alphas have firm expectations of their omega.
They want obedience without question and silence without exception.
Knox didn’t seem like that kind of person last night, but alphas are always a little different when they’ve got their omega beneath them.
In the light of day, though, I’m just another burden for him to carry.
For now, I’ll keep my head down and do what I’m told. If I’m quiet and agreeable—if I don’t cause any trouble—they won’t have a reason to hate me. Right?
My stomach twists, and I curl in on myself, pretending it’s the cold.
Somewhere outside the tent, I hear the murmur of movement—footsteps crunching the leaves, someone dragging something across the ground. A bag? A piece of gear?
Then the zipper rips through the silence.
ZZZZZZzzzzhhk.
The sound slices through the tent like a blade. My heart slams against my ribs so hard I swear it must be visible through the blanket. Blood drains from my face, and a cold, nauseating dread settles low in my stomach.
They’re coming in.
I squeeze my eyes shut tighter, willing myself to stay still. Calm. Limp. Maybe if I look small enough, helpless enough, they won’t do anything. Maybe they’ll let me sleep and pretend nothing happened.
Or maybe they’re already planning which one of them is going to correct me.
A boot softly brushes the canvas floor inside the entrance. I can hear breathing now—deep and steady.
Knox.
I don’t know how I know. I just do.
His scent hits me half a second later, smoke and cherry and warmth, curling around my senses even through the fear.
Part of me wants to lift my head and say I wasn’t trying to spy, but the other part—the bigger part—is too afraid of what might happen if I admit it.
So I stay still.
Quiet.
Waiting.
And pray that whatever happens next…it won’t hurt too much.