Outside
Skyla
“You’re safe now,” Dakota says with the most earnest look on his face. “I swear. You’ll never be hurt again.”
“Come on,” he says, wrapping an arm around my shoulders in a quick, almost clumsy side hug. “Let’s get you home.”
I force a smile as he helps me up, steadying me before I step toward the tent’s entrance. Dakota bends to unzip the flat, and I quickly smooth my hair over my neck. I can’t hide my old mark forever, but I can hide it for now.
Dakota stands, then pulls back the tent flap. The second the cool outside air hits my face, my knees wobble, and the ground tilts sideways. I don’t know what a hangover feels like, but this has to be close.
“I’ve got you.” Dakota reaches for my hand, trying to steady me. He gives me the sweetest smile as he waits patiently for my knees to stop trembling. It’s a cute smile, slightly lopsided with a faint dimple in his right cheek. “Ready?” And I swear his light brown eyes shimmer.
“Yes.” I release his hand, then step forward.
Before my bare feet can touch the frost-stiff ground, Knox is suddenly there.
He scoops me up bridal-style in his strong arms like I weigh nothing.
I press against his big body, feeling his cotton shirt.
It’s soft beneath my fingertips, worn thin with age, and it smells faintly of cherries and something darker—something undeniably alpha.
“I don’t want those feet to get cold,” he says in a throaty rumble, and his face flashes hot. His soft lips curve into a smile, and more memories from last night invade my mind.
His weight on top of me, the feel of his cock inside me, the way he kept rutting me until my body gave out. And now I’m pressed against his chest, flustered and hot, because it’s impossible to forget.
Is he thinking about it too?
Feeling ridiculously shy and a little embarrassed, I find something—anything—else to look at.
The trees, the patchy grass, the way Alex stomps and kicks at the tent stakes like they’ve personally offended him.
Dakota’s nearby, folding the canvas in a lazy, sloppy mess that looks more like he’s wrestling it than packing it.
Tadeo’s mouth tightens as he watches the beta.
There’s the faintest crease at the corner of his lips, but he doesn’t say a word.
He re-focuses his attention on the blankets, folding them with crisp, deliberate lines before sliding each one neatly into a duffel bag.
The difference between them makes me swallow hard. Like even chores are another language I don’t know how to speak here.
My gaze drifts from the smoldering firepit to the pile of bags, and before I can stop it, it lands on Knox. But only for a second.
Thankfully, the pack alpha isn’t looking at me.
His gaze is fixed on his pack, steady and watchful.
I take advantage of his distraction to really look at his face in the daylight.
Fine lines mark the corners of his eyes, and a few stray gray hairs streak through his beard.
He doesn’t look old—just… seasoned. Solid.
Like he’s lived a whole lifetime before me. Years of learning, loving, rutting.
Maybe that’s why he knew exactly how to touch me.
My stomach flutters at the memory of his mouth between my legs. The way his tongue lapped and flicked, until I shattered—harder than I ever have in my life. The echo of it still pulses low in my body in a soft ache.
Heat coils inside my belly as I remember the stretch of his cock and the hot splash of his seed. Slick suddenly pushes from my entrance, and panic strikes sharp in my chest.
No, no, no, no!
Please don’t be turned on!
Not around them.
Shame claws up my throat, and I wrench my gaze away from Knox, cheeks hot, wishing I could crawl out of my own skin before any of them notice.
Please don’t smell me.
But out of the corner of my eye, I see Knox’s nostrils flare. His grip on me tightens ever so slightly, followed quickly by Alex and Tadeo turning toward me. Their gazes lock onto my face, eyes half-hooded with lust, shoulders gone rigid, like predators catching a scent.
Yup. They can definitely all smell me.
I go still, curling tighter against Knox’s chest, trying to hide myself in the solid line of his body. My heart pounds. The other two alphas scare me—not because they’ve done anything yet, but because I don’t know them. I don’t know if they’ll hurt me…or hurt each other to get to me.
“Are we ready?” Knox’s voice cuts through the moment, husky but commanding, and it snaps the spell. Both Alex and Tadeo tear their gazes away like they’ve been yanked from a trance, their jaws tight but their focus broken.
The smallest ripple of relief eases my belly, but beneath it is something else, sharp and unsettled. I’m not sure if I should feel safer with Knox for holding me closer…or more trapped, because none of this feels like safety yet.
“I think that’s everything,” Dakota says with a cheerful lilt, slinging a backpack over his shoulder like this is all normal. He clearly didn’t notice any of the tension or my scent.
“Ready.” Tadeo zips the last duffel, face neutral, movements neat and crisp.
“Good,” Knox mutters.
Before we start moving, Alex digs into one of the side pockets of a bag and pulls out a small, crinkled pack of graham crackers. He presses it into my hand with a grin. “Eat up, sweetheart. Got plenty more if you want ’em.”
The unexpected kindness makes my throat tighten. I nod, clutching the little packet like it’s something far more important than crackers.
Then we move.
Tadeo takes the lead, pulling out a small compass and studying it with all the focus of someone setting coordinates for a military operation. “The car’s this way.”
Alex leans in over his shoulder, smirking. “If I’d known we were playing Boy Scouts this weekend, I would’ve brought some rope.” His voice slips into a wickedly suggestive rumble. “We could’ve practiced some knots.”
Tadeo shoots him a pointed look, but there’s a smile tugging at his mouth.
“Come to my room later,” Alex adds smoothly. “I’ll tie you up and get you that patch.”
Tadeo snorts loudly before rolling his eyes. “They’re called merit badges.”
Alex lets out a low, delighted growl. “Fuck. I love it when you drop useless facts.” He leans in like he’s about to spill a filthy secret. “Nothing gets me harder.”
Tadeo shakes his head, but his smile is unmistakable.
Their banter is so easy and unguarded, it loosens something tight in my chest. I want to believe this isn’t just for show, that maybe this pack will be this warm with me too.
But doubt creeps in. My old pack teased each other sometimes.
Mostly, Brayden and Martin traded jabs when the mood struck—but never with me.
I was meant to stay polished, perfect, and untouchable.
I was their omega doll. I never got to be a part of the jokes.
I can’t help but wonder if life with this pack will be different.
Feeling suddenly very overwhelmed, I press my cheek against Knox’s solid chest, trying to relax. He’s so warm. Then I close my eyes, but my thoughts are a rush of unanswered questions.
What will these men expect from me once they get me home?
Will they want to rut me right away?
Or will they want me to start cooking and cleaning first?
My old pack had a whole staff—maids, cooks, even someone who did the laundry.
But Brayden always said they were useless.
Every day, he’d point out something they missed and hand it off to me instead.
Scrub the floors. Dust the shelves. Polish what was already shining.
Then, when evening came, it was my job to cook dinner—because, as he reminded me often, feeding your alphas is what omegas are supposed to do.
I don’t see why this pack would be any different.
I mean, if alphas didn’t want omegas to keep a spotless house, then why would the academy spend so much time teaching us homemaking in the first place?
The longer we walk, the heavier my eyelids grow. My head still throbs low in the back of my skull, but the gentle motion of Knox’s steps eases away some of the pain. I tell myself I should stay awake—stay alert—but what good will it do?
It’s better to rest while I can.
Once they get me home, I’m sure there’ll be lots of work waiting, and I’ll need all my energy if I’m going to keep their house clean.
The thought soothes me, gives me a purpose to hold on to. And by the time the steady rhythm of Knox’s steps lulls me to sleep, I’ve already promised myself I’ll make their place shine.
When I wake, I’m wedged between Dakota and Alex in the back seat of a car. My head feels stuffed with cotton, heavy and slow, and for a moment I can’t tell what day it is.
I can literally feel how puffy my face is.
The car hums steadily beneath me, the faint rattle of the frame keeping rhythm with the road.
Blinking repeatedly, I let out a long yawn, then take in my surroundings.
I’m in an older SUV that looks like it’s seen better days. The seats sag, the upholstery’s worn thin in places, and dirt and leaves are scattered across the floorboard. A couple of empty bottles roll with every bump, tapping against my feet.
Alex glances up at me from his phone, and a grin instantly tugs at his mouth.
I can’t help but smile back at him as his citrus-bright scent hits my nose for the first time.
He smells like juicy oranges and lemons with the faint sharpness of lime and a trace of thyme tucked underneath.
It’s an odd aroma, but I like it…I think.
“Well, good afternoon, sleepyhead,” Alex teases, voice warm and easy. “You slept hard, little one.”
From the front passenger seat, Tadeo twists to look at me. His dark eyes catch mine, steady, searching. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m okay,” I answer, even though the words come out rough, my throat scratchy with sleep.
But Tadeo doesn’t look convinced. His gaze lingers, steady and unflinching, and the worry in his eyes makes my stomach knot. He looks almost…gutted? Or maybe scared.
I don’t understand why he’s looking at me like that, but the weight of his stare leaves me uneasy, making heat crawl up the back of my neck.
Alex seems to notice as his gaze flickers from me to Tadeo, then he casually says, “Hey,” he reaches up and taps Tadeo’s shoulder, “you got time to look at the water heater with me later? Think it’s acting up again.”
Tadeo blinks, the distant look in his eyes fading. “Yeah. Sure.”
Alex jumps into a few things that could be wrong with it and what parts they’ll need to get. Tadeo nods along, offering a few possible solutions.
Honestly, I can’t tell if Alex was deliberately trying to pull the young alpha’s attention away from me, but I’m grateful he did.
I take a breath and glance past the still-sleeping Dakota, out the window.
The world outside has shifted. No more trees or mountains.
Just rows of modest houses, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder.
They all have patchy lawns and driveways cluttered with dated cars.
Some of the vehicles are shiny, maybe vintage, but most are rusting out, long past their prime.
Betas drift across the yards, but an occasional alpha leans under the hood of a car.
For some reason, they’re all tattooed and scarred, looking just as intimidating as Knox and Alex.
Why are we here?
Maybe they're visiting someone or picking something up?
I wish they’d hurry. The longer it takes to get to their house, the less daylight I’ll have to work with.
Four men living together are bound to be messy, and it’s going to take energy to put things in order.
My stomach gives a low twist, reminding me I haven’t eaten since this morning.
But food can wait. If I start with the chores, they’ll see I’m useful right away.
They’ll be happy. That matters more than me being full.
I’ll clean first. Eat later.
The SUV rumbles as Knox turns the wheel, heading down a cul-de-sac toward a small blue house with a dead tree out front. Tadeo straightens in his seat, posture sharpening like he recognizes it. Like he’s glad to be here.
I lean forward, peering past him to get a better look.
The house is small, its siding weather-worn, bushes out front have grown into a tangled mess. One shutter hangs crooked, barely clinging on. A windowpane has a jagged crack running across it, like it might collapse with the next hard rain.
And then it hits me: Is this where they live?
It can’t be.
Proper packs live on sprawling land, in houses with gates or private driveways. The extra land helps keep their omegas safe. But this is clearly a beta-neighborhood, with no added security or privacy.
Knox cuts the engine as he parks next to an older model black sedan. His voice is steady, almost proud as he says, “We’re home.”
The word hits like stone.
Home.
My chest tightens, dread crawling into every corner of me.
My years of classes at the academy fill my head as my palms begin to sweat. They drilled into us that impoverished alphas were too feral to own omegas. They lack discipline and control. Only alphas with money and standing can be trusted to properly care for my kind.
And the house in front of us looks anything but disciplined.
In fact, if the governance board saw this place, they’d call these men unfit. And maybe they are.
Then right on cue—like the universe wants to really drive the point home—the dangling shutter snaps free and crashes onto the patchy lawn.
If the established, prominent pack almost killed me…how the hell am I supposed to survive these alphas?