Three Days Later
Knox
The road hums beneath the U-Haul’s tires, filling the silence.
Alex rides shotgun, one arm draped out the open window, the wind whipping his shaggy hair all over the place.
The late afternoon light flashes across the dashboard, warm and gold, and for a second, I let myself focus on it—or try to.
But it doesn’t take long before Skyla’s pale face shoves its way back to the front of my mind.
It’s been three days since the shopping trip, and the omega hasn’t been the same.
She drifts through the house like a ghost—quiet, polite, but distant. She eats when reminded, offers her body to us every night, and smiles when someone speaks to her, but it never quite reaches her eyes. Whatever spark she had that day in the store is gone.
I grip the wheel a little tighter, reminding myself yet again that the longer I wait to mate her, the worse it will get.
She needs to be mated. She needs a mental bond—something real to fill the silence in her head. Remind her she’s ours and she’s safe.
Alex glances over at me, catching the look on my face. “You’re thinking too hard again,” he says.
“Yeah.” I don’t bother denying it, but I also don’t tell him what I’m thinking—that I hate watching our omega fade like this. I’m pretty sure he already knows.
“I opened another pack of those bonding cloths,” Alex says after a moment. “I rubbed a few on my neck and wrists, then left them next to Sky. She was still clutching one in her sleep.”
“That’s good.” I nod, not really sure what else to say.
Alex shifts in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with the silence. “I also saw that Tadeo turned on the scent booster before we left.”
“What does that thing even do?” I already know the answer, but Alex likes to ramble when he’s nervous, and right now, he’s terrified for our sweet omega.
“Apparently, it’s supposed to ‘enhance the nesting environment,’” he says, making air quotes with one hand. “Dakota read the entire pamphlet front to back. I guess it’s meant to help new omegas adjust to pack scents faster.”
“How does it work?” I ask as I turn the wheel, drifting into a massive neighborhood.
The houses here all have tall gates and manicured lawns that look like they cost more than our house. Every driveway is lined with fancy cars gleaming in the afternoon light, and even the air feels different—like money.
Alex keeps talking as I make another turn, scanning the street numbers. “I think it releases some kind of slow-burn pheromone mist, or something? I don’t know. Dakota tried explaining it, but he lost me around the part about ‘hormonal scent equilibrium.’”
I grunt in response, taking the next corner. Each house looks the same—too clean and perfect—and I can’t tell if we’ve passed it already or if they all blur together.
Alex leans forward, pointing toward a tall black gate with gold numbers. “There. That’s it.”
The gate’s wide open. Of course it is.
It makes something low and irritated flicker in my chest. Only smug, rich bastards would spend that kind of money on security to leave it wide open.
The house looms ahead, big and bright and soulless. Sliding in next to a sleek red car, I throw the van in park, the engine rumbling down.
But before I open my door, Alex blurts, “Why haven’t you marked Skyla yet?”
It blindsides me. I blink at him, then let out a short, humorless laugh. “Why haven’t you fucked her yet?” The words come out sharper than I mean them to.
The air in the cab goes still. Alex freezes, halfway through unbuckling his seatbelt, jaw clenched, eyes dark. “What the fuck does that mean?” he snaps.
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you haven’t touched her,” I bite back, clinging to the change in subject like it’s a rope. Anything to keep him from asking me about marking her again.
Alex recovers fast, leaning back with a smirk that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You haven’t been home, Knox. You don’t know what we get up to while you’re gone.”
“Cut the shit.” My tone drops low and serious. “You can’t lie to me, and you know it. What’s going on?”
Alex swallows hard, throat bobbing like he’s trying to push the words back down. His jaw flexes, and for a second, I think he’s going to shut down completely.
I shouldn’t have snapped at him over something so serious.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean to say it like that. It’s that you were the same way with Dakota.” I reach over and rest a hand on his leg, solid and steady. It’s not much, but it’s enough to let him know I’m not here to judge. Just to listen. “Talk to me, Alex. Tell me what’s holding you back.”
Alex exhales hard, eyes fixed on the dashboard.
“I don’t know, man. I’ve spent my whole damn life as a fuckup,” he says, voice rough around the edges.
“My family cut me off after prison. I haven’t spoken to them in years.
I’ve also never held a job longer than a couple years, never kept anything good without finding some way to burn it down. ”
It’s strange, hearing him like this—no jokes, no swagger. Raw fear under everything else. The same fear I’ve seen in his eyes a hundred times, hiding behind that damn grin.
“The only good thing in my life is you guys. My pack.” He shakes his head, a tight movement, like he’s mad at himself for even saying it out loud.
“And now we have Skyla.” His dark blue eyes finally meet mine.
“An actual, beautiful, precious omega. And I keep thinking…what if I fuck this up too?” His voice goes soft at the end, breaking around the words.
“What if I slip into Skyla’s perfect little body, lose my mind and mark her before you get the chance? ”
I squeeze his leg once, firm. “You can’t seriously think you’d do that,” I say.
Alex gives me a pointed glare. “You’ve been telling me for years that I’ve got serious impulse control issues.”
“Yeah,” I say, my voice lifting, trying to nudge the mood lighter. “When it comes to booze, showing off, and running your damn mouth. Not when it comes to the people you love.”
A ghost of a smile tugs at his mouth, but it fades quickly. “Yeah, maybe. I…” He scrubs the back of his neck. “I don’t want to hurt her.”
“You won’t,” I tell him. “I know for a fact you’d never hurt her. Plus, she loves you, man.”
Alex looks at me, skeptical, like he doesn’t believe a word of it.
“I’m serious,” I add, leaning toward him. “I see it in the way she looks at you, the way she gravitates to you. Hell, she even laughs at your jokes—and you’re not that funny.”
That gets a quick belly laugh out of him, and more of the tension breaks.
I reach over and grip the back of Alex’s neck, squeezing until he meets my eyes. “Stop thinking about it so damn much,” I tell him. “Show her how much you adore her.”
Alex’s mouth twitches like he wants to argue, but he doesn’t. He nods quietly, the weight in his shoulders easing a little.
“Good,” I say, letting him go, then I pull the key out of the ignition. “Now, come on. Let’s grab the package and get the hell out of here. I’d rather be home.”
We climb out into the cool autumn air. I smooth out my shirt, trying to look a little more presentable. I’m in my usual—worn jeans and a faded gray V-neck. Alex has on a pair of fitted black jeans and an old band T-shirt.
Marc initially wanted us to wear uniforms, but fuck that shit.
We walk around to the back of the U-Haul, and I grab the handle, letting the roll-up door rattle open. The metal clanks loudly in the quiet neighborhood. I glance around at the manicured lawns and pristine hedges. Not a single person in sight. Gives off money vibes—polished and empty.
“Places like this creep me out,” Alex mutters, stepping up beside me. “These people have massive lawns. Why not enjoy them?”
“Who knows.” I step back, scanning the large empty cargo bed. “Alright, let’s grab the package and go.”
We both turn and head up the stone path to the front door. Alex rings the bell once, then rocks back on his heels. The sound echoes faintly inside.
While we wait, he starts talking again—anything to fill the silence. “What do you think Tadeo and Sky are going to cook for dinner?”
“I don’t know.” I can’t help the faint smile tugging at my mouth. “But if I know them, dinner’ll be halfway done before we walk in.”
Alex chuckles. “Sky might be the best cook I’ve ever met.”
I cut him a sideways look and smack his arm, not hard but enough to make him flinch and grin. “You better never say that to Tadeo.”
“Never,” he says immediately, hand over his heart. “Swear on my life.”
The doorknob rattles, and both of us straighten instinctively—backs straight, shoulders squared. Work mode.
The door swings open to reveal a female beta in a stiff black polyester uniform, hair pulled tight into a bun that looks like it could survive a hurricane. She blinks at us, her brow furrowing as her gaze flicks from me to Alex, then to the U-Haul parked in the driveway.
“Can I help you, gentlemen?” she asks, polite but wary.
“We’re with Veniver Movers,” I tell her, keeping my tone calm and professional.
Her frown deepens. “I think you must have the wrong house. No one here is moving.”
I pull the folded piece of paper from my back pocket, then scan the top. The handwriting’s barely legible, but I can make out the name scrawled across the top. “We’ve got a pickup for a Dennis Carler.”
At that, the woman’s expression flickers. “This is Mr. Carler’s home, but I wasn’t told—”
Alex steps in before she can finish, leaning casually against the doorframe like he owns the place.
His voice softens, all charm and grin. “It really sucks when the boss doesn’t tell you about pickups and deliveries.
Doesn’t it? I mean, the least he can do is tell the people that really run the house what’s going on. ”
Her lips twitch, almost against her will, and then she actually smiles. “I’ll go get Mr. Carler,” she says, smoothing the front of her uniform. “Please wait here.”