A New Day
Skyla
Sunlight filters through the curtains, spilling across my face. The salty scent of bacon and eggs drifts through the air. For a second, it feels like any other morning—except my body feels lighter. Like someone reached inside my head and scraped out something rotten.
He’s gone.
And I’ve never been so happy in my life.
You’re horrible, I tell myself as I slowly sit. A good omega would feel bad.
After all, Brayden was my former mate. And he’s dead…I assume. And it’s my sweet pack that killed him.
I wish they hadn’t, but it’s the only logical explanation, and I’m not sure how I feel about that.
Proud?
Happy?
A little aroused that my pack loves me enough to kill for me?
Yup, I’m a horrible person. But I can’t obsess about that right now. I need to see my boys.
Rolling forward, onto my hands and knees, I crawl out of my nest.
When my feet touch the floor, a dull ache shoots up one leg. I glance down, surprised to see a bandage peeking out from the top of a fuzzy sock—my whole foot wrapped neatly.
For a split second, the memory flickers through my head—blood, the sting of cold air, Tadeo’s warm hands as he carefully cleaned me up.
I shake it off, not wanting to think about that right now.
I open the bottom dresser drawer and pull out one of my favorite sweaters and a pair of yoga pants. Once I’m dressed, I step out of the bedroom.
The hallway is quiet and dim, the scent of bacon and coffee pulling me toward the kitchen.
I hold my breath at the edge of the hall, bracing myself before I step into the living room—half afraid of what I’ll see. But when I step into the room, everything is spotless.
There’s no shattered glass, no twisted bits of metal. Even the rough plywood from last night is gone, leaving behind neat, empty holes in the floorboards where the screws used to be. The faint scent of bleach clings to the air, sharp beneath the warmth of breakfast.
For a moment, I just stand there, my skin prickling. The room feels too clean. almost empty, like it’s pretending nothing ever happened.
A sudden wave of unease rolls through me, making my stomach twist.
I need my alphas.
Swallowing hard, I rush toward the kitchen. Knox’s presence brushes against the edge of my mind first, softening as he feels my tension. Our bond hums low and soft, like a hand settling against my back, coaxing me to breathe.
Underneath Knox, I can feel Alex.
He’s alive this morning, practically buzzing. His emotions spark like fireworks, playful and loud, the way he always gets when he’s trying to lighten the mood for everyone else.
And Tadeo…his bond feels tight, coiled with focus and mild irritation, like he’s trying to stay calm while someone—it’s gotta be Alex—tests his patience.
For a moment, I stand outside the kitchen doorway, letting their energy roll through me. The sound of plates clinking, the hiss of bacon on the stove, Alex’s voice cutting through the air with his trademark cocky ease.
I don’t want to ruin it, but there are too many questions burning inside my head.
I step into the kitchen and find Tadeo at the stove, shoulders tense as he flips strips in the pan. He stands with one leg out, relaxed, but I can see the faint twitch in his jaw that says Alex has been pestering him for a while now.
“Hey, chef,” Alex says to Tadeo as he leans against the counter. He’s got that shit-eating grin that always spells trouble. “You sure the bacon’s supposed to be that crispy? I mean, I love a little charcoal flavor, but—”
“Alex,” Tadeo cuts in, voice tight but surprisingly calm, “if you want to cook, I’ll move.”
Alex grins wider. “Nah, you’re doing great. Just… maybe turn down the heat before the fire alarm—”
The sound of the spatula smacking the counter makes Alex jump back, laughing. “Alright, alright! I’m only trying to help.”
Across the room, Knox sits at the kitchen table, coffee mug in hand, his lips twitching around the rim like he’s trying not to smile. His amusement hums through our bond, slow and warm, enjoying the chaos.
Dakota’s next to him, head pillowed on his folded arms, completely dead to the world. His hair’s sticking up in every direction, and there’s a faint smear of drool on his sleeve.
Tadeo reaches forward and turns down the burner. The soft click and drop in sound draw Alex’s attention, and he glances up—right at me.
The teasing grin slides off his face instantly. His shoulders go still, and all that wild, easy energy evaporates.
He looks like he can’t decide whether to hug me or hide.
Even our bond is filled with uncertainty, love tangled up with guilt and worry.
“Hey,” Alex says softly, his voice careful, like he’s afraid I’ll shatter if he’s too loud.
Tadeo turns, following the alpha’s gaze.
The moment Tadeo’s dark eyes land on me, his expression shifts—steady composure giving way to quiet concern. Knox sets his mug down, movement slow as his focus locks on me. Even Dakota stirs, blinking sleepily as he lifts his head.
Four sets of eyes stare at me. Three bonds humming with love and worry rush through in my mind all at once.
And for a heartbeat, I don’t know whether to smile or cry.
“Skyla.” Knox pushes back from the table, the chair legs scraping quietly against the floor. The sound makes every muscle in me tense before I can stop it.
He stands, broad shoulders filling the small space. “Omega.” His voice is so gentle. “We should probably talk.”
For half a second, my pulse stutters. Old instinct rears up before logic can catch it—talk used to mean pain, punishment, rejection.
But then my bond with Knox flickers, raw and trembling. I feel his fear, not anger.
He’s terrified that I hate him.
But that couldn’t be further from the truth.
“Come and sit, omega.” Knox pulls out the chair closest to him, but I don’t move.
“Actually, I have a few questions,” I say, my voice softer than I mean it to be.
Tadeo and Alex shift to properly face me, Dakota sits a little straighter, and Knox freezes mid-breath. The energy in the room tightens, like everyone’s afraid of what I’m about to say.
“Okay,” Knox says, before adding, “What do you want to know?”
I take a deep breath, deciding to start with the little stuff. It’ll make it easier to ease into the massive questions that pound at the back of my skull.
“Last night,” I ask, “what were the bells for?”
Deep lines crease Knox’s brow, like the question doesn’t quite compute. “The bells?”
“The ones duct taped to the back door.”
Knox pauses, frowning like he’s not sure whether to answer or dodge the question. For a moment, the silence stretches, then he finally exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “The bells were so we could hear if Brayden tried to come in through the back.”
I guess that makes sense. “And the plywood? With the screws?”
Knox’s frown deepens, like he can’t figure out why on earth I’m asking about this stuff, but he answers anyway. “If Brayden bolted out the back, there was a good chance he’d get a foot full of metal. Feet bleed fast, so it would’ve left a trail for us to follow.”
I hum and nod. “What about the glass by the kitchen and the nails by the front door?”
“We needed something to alert us when he entered the living room,” Knox says, before cutting a slight glare at Alex. “We didn’t need the broken glass. Alex just likes making a mess.”
Alex stares down at his bare feet, rubbing the back of his neck. “I like the sound they make when they shatter,” he mutters, then shakes his head.
If this conversation wasn’t so scary, I might find his confession cute. Maybe even funny.
“Okay.” I take a deep breath, look directly at Knox, then push into the bigger stuff. “You knew to do things like this because you aren’t a mover, right?”
“I’m not a mover,” he says simply. “Not in the traditional sense.”
The way he says that feels like he’s opening it up for me to ask more questions about what he does, but I don't think I’m ready for that. I might never be.
“You’re not a mover either?” I ask Alex.
He stares at his feet, suddenly looking about twelve years old. “Nope.”
“And you?” My eyes find Tadeo. “Are you really a CFO?”
“I am,” he says softly. “I’ve never been in the…moving business,” he glances at Knox, “but I did work in construction at one of Marc’s side businesses.” His voice drops as he adds, “I’m pretty sure it was for money laundering, but the work was real.”
I nod, not really sure what that means.
Then, I finally look at Dakota. The sweet beta looks exhausted, with dark bruises under his eyes, and a tiny Band-Aid slapped across the gash on his temple. It looks like he attempted to clean it, but gave up halfway through.
“Was the protein powder story real?” I ask, praying it wasn’t a lie. I need something about my pack to be real. “Is that really how you met Tadeo?”
Dakota blinks, then smiles a little too fast. “It was very real. Tadeo was looking for something to help him pump up, and my uncle told him to check out the shop I worked at.”
I nod again, still trying to pretend like everything’s perfectly normal.
But I still have the biggest question to ask.
“And… Brayden.” The name catches in my throat, and suddenly my pulse stumbles, a low thrum of panic pressing at my ribs. “He’s dead. Right?”
Knox nods slowly, his voice so soft, almost apologetic. “Yes, sweetheart. He’s dead.”
And just like that, my pack alpha’s words fill the air like a slow-moving echo.
He’s dead.
Dead.
Dead.
It’s really over.
I just stand there, staring at Knox. Waiting for the guilt to hit, or the panic, or the grief—anything. But instead, something loosens deep inside me. A knot I didn’t even realize I’d been holding unravels all at once.
My chest expands, and the first real breath I’ve taken in what feels like years shudders out of me. It’s dizzying. Wrong and right all at the same time.
I shouldn’t feel this light. I shouldn’t feel free.
But I do.
“Sky.” Knox shifts, tension rippling through the bond, his breath catching like he’s afraid to say the wrong thing. “Sweetheart. I—”
“Thank you.” I cut him off.
Knox blinks, a little shocked.
“Thank you,” I repeat, softer this time, turning my gaze to each of them—Alex, Tadeo, Dakota.
“Thank you for saving me.” My throat feels tight, words barely scraping out.
“I should probably say or do something more, but I don’t know what.
” My fingers twist in my shirt, grounding myself as I look at them—these men who’ve fought and bled and held me.
“I’ve never had someone love me the way you four did last night,” I whisper. “It was horrible. Violent. Terrifying.” My voice cracks, shame flooding hot across my cheeks. “And it was…beautiful.”
The last word is barely audible, trembling and unsure.
The silence that follows feels heavy, not judgmental—just full. Full of everything I don’t know how to say, and everything they already understand.
For a heartbeat, no one moves.
Then something shifts in the air—soft, unspoken, and somehow heavy with affection.
Alex steps forward first, then Tadeo, and before I can react, I’m wrapped up in them. Their big bodies close in around me, solid and warm, pressing me between them in a safe, snuggly hug.
I suddenly feel Knox’s hand slide to the back of my head, Dakota’s palm flattens against my spine as Alex wraps one arm around the beta. Their scents surround me—smoke, citrus, coconut, lilac—all twining together.
My chest aches with something fierce and tender. For once, I don’t fight it. I let myself melt into them.
We all hold each other, snuggling deep into each other's arms, until….
A sharp scent cuts through the air.
“Shit!” Tadeo jerks back so fast he nearly elbows Alex in the face as he darts toward the stove. He snatches the pan off the burner, grimacing. “It’s ruined,” he mutters, waving the smoke away.
Alex tries for a smile, but his voice cracks when he says, “Don’t worry about it, alpha. We’ve got cereal.”
Dakota claps his hands together like this is the best news he’s heard all morning. “You know what we need?” He smiles wide, his bright brown eyes locking onto mine. “Whiskey.”
“What?” Knox asks, half-growl, half-laugh.
“I’ll get the curly straw.” Alex moves, opening the nearest drawer.
Dakota strolls to the fridge, grin widening as he wraps his hand around the handle. “Single or double, sweetheart?”
The tension in my chest breaks into a shaky smile. “Double,” I say. “Straight up.”
Knox is still frowning, confused when Dakota winks, pulling out the apple juice. “Coming right up.”