Chapter 14 Knox
The first day of our stakeout passed in a blur.
There was far more traffic at the omega’s location than we’d expected. Men we recognized from Bellini’s crew came and went, but they weren’t the only ones. Black SUVs with government plates. A known commander's driver. A celebrity whose face I’d seen plastered across billboards only weeks ago.
Not the kind of people you’d expect to be standing on the same doorstep as organized crime.
Silas documented everything, snapping photos with methodical precision. I logged times, vehicles, and security rotations. Lena cross-referenced faces with our criminal database, flagging the obvious ones immediately and digging deeper into the rest.
That was where she became invaluable.
She didn’t just search names. She read patterns.
First, she found a campaign donor linked to a shell corporation.
Then a foundation board member who quietly funded one of Bellini’s “orphanage centers.” Soon it led to a dismissed charge buried ten years back that tied a public figure to one of Bellini’s known lieutenants.
One detail sparked a memory. That memory connected to another file. Another name. Another visit logged at the house.
Piece by piece, she built a web of connections.
Quickly, it became clear that Bellini wasn’t using his omegas solely to reward loyalty within his ranks. He was also buying an enormous amount of favor, influence, and protection.
His reach went deep. Way deeper than we suspected.
And Lena saw it before Silas or I ever did.
She was extraordinary. Better than most intelligence operatives Arca had stationed at AIED.
After years in captivity, her mind was stimulated again.
I could almost see it happening in real time, as her focus sharpened and her eyes shifted, tracking threads the rest of us hadn’t noticed. Captivity had dulled her; torture had forced her inward, and survival had narrowed her world to the next breath, the next command, the next pain.
But her brilliance didn't disappear.
It waited.
Without constant fear choking it, without isolation keeping it boxed in, her mind stretched outward again, testing its reach. Exploring the sheer scope of what she was capable of.
And there seemed to be no end to it.
She processed connections faster than most trained analysts. She anticipated outcomes before the pattern was fully visible. What Silas and I saw as scattered data points, she saw as structure.
And watching that unfold in front of me was… impressive.
More than impressive.
While Lena buried herself in our files, bookmarking data and assembling fractured pieces into something cohesive, I took a few hours of rest before my surveillance rotation. Silas remained at the window, rigid and silent, perched there as though distance itself might grant him discipline.
He was keeping a healthy distance between himself and the runt
I knew why.
Her scent.
This morning had made it obvious.
He’d woken abruptly, the mattress dipping as he rolled away in one smooth motion. A second later, he was already on his feet, putting frantic, deliberate distance between his body and hers.
“What’s wrong?” I’d asked, able to read the tension in him.
He dragged a hand down his face. “Nothing.”
I let the silence stretch.
“It’s her scent,” he admitted with a sigh at last. Not ashamed, but irritated. “It’s everywhere.”
"I've noticed," I murmured with a smirk.
While Lena slept, completely unaware, the room grew saturated with her omega scent. Sweet, warm, and heavy with unmistakable arousal. There had been no question what she’d been dreaming about.
And my brother had been pressed against her, breathing it directly from the source.
Silas had never been the type to fight his instincts. He embraced them. Violence steadied him. Interrogations gave him release. He reacted first and reflected later. When he wanted something, he took it. When he needed an outlet, he found one.
Restraint was not who he was.
Which was precisely why the restraint he chose this morning mattered. It meant he cared for Lena.
“She’s not doing it intentionally,” I reminded him.
“I know.” His eyes flicked toward her sleeping form, then away. “That’s the problem.”
Lena always smelled divine. All omegas did. But fear had once threaded through her scent, muting and tainting it.
That edge was fading. She was settling, trusting, and allowing her body to recognize safety.
And because of that, her scent had bloomed.
Spiced peaches called to us, potent, delicious, and alluring.
In the cramped apartment, it clung to the walls, to the bed, to the air we all shared, testing the limits of our alpha control.
Silas paced once across the small room, restless energy simmering just beneath his skin. Annoyance sharpened every movement.
“She smells like that even in her sleep,” he muttered. “No control. No awareness. It’s… distracting.”
“It’s instinct,” I replied calmly. “Not manipulation.”
“I didn’t say it was manipulation,” he snapped.
“No,” I said. “You didn’t.”
Silence stretched between us.
“I told her last night,” I continued, keeping my voice low so I wouldn’t wake her, “that we could help her. Teach her to feel pleasure again. On her terms.”
His head swiveled, eyes locking on mine.
“She listened,” I added. “And she’s considering it.”
Silas scoffed under his breath. “Why would you even offer that? She's our informant, not our omega.”
I studied him carefully. “You know why.”
“No, Knox. Enlighten me.”
“Because we’ve already decided,” I said quietly, “that no man, besides us, will ever touch her again.”
A threatening growl rumbled from his chest.
“So we agree, then,” I replied evenly.
His narrowed eyes flicked to mine.
“The idea of her touching someone else,” I continued, “ending up in another unit… that doesn’t sit well with you, does it?”
Silas’s gaze hardened further.
“No,” he said. “It doesn’t.”
A beat passed.
“I would cut their hands off.”
There was no exaggeration or posturing in his voice.
Just fact.
“So why are you so frustrated by her scent?”
He said nothing, so I kept going.
“And why do you still act like you would hurt her if the answers you seek don’t come willingly?”
That landed.
Silas stilled completely.
“I would never hurt her,” he said quietly, finally admitting it to himself.
“I know how much you enjoy breaking people,” I replied.
“You’ve never hidden it. You've never stifled your needs or pretended otherwise.
So why would you pretend the opposite now?
That you'd be capable of doing that to her?
Lena isn't just a source of information anymore, and rebuilding her is about more than getting answers. "
“I wouldn't hurt her," he repeated again,
“Then stop acting like you would. She thinks you're angry all the time. The runt doesn't understand that you're fighting control. She thinks you're frustrated with her, not yourself.”
Silas exhaled slowly, tension rippling through him.
“I’m frustrated,” he admitted at last. “Because she affects me.”
His eyes flicked toward the bed, where Lena slept peacefully, totally unaware of our conversation.
“I don’t like losing control,” he said.
“And with her?” I asked.
A long pause.
“With her,” he said, voice low, “I'm dangerously close.”
Now, my brother and my conversation now replayed in my head as I looked up at the ceiling, trying to find rest before my turn on surveillance.
At the window, Silas’s posture remained carved from stone. Every line of him spoke of tension and restraint. His gaze remained fixed on the street as if it demanded every ounce of his focus. He barely acknowledged Lena at all.
She chewed her lip, sifting through files, but every so often she glanced up at us. Each time, her scent thickened in the air, warm and sweet, and color spread across her cheeks.
I stretched out on the inflatable mattress, working the stiffness from my limbs. My shirt rode up slightly, exposing my stomach and the cut of my hips.
Her eyes lingered.
Another spike.
Silas muttered under his breath, “Fucking suffocating.”
“Do you need something, runt?” I asked mildly, sitting up and tilting my head, as a faint smile curved across my mouth.
She shook her head furiously, blush deepening.
“Liar,” Silas said flatly, irritation threading through the word.
I shot him a warning look. We had to be careful with Lena. We couldn't push her.
“Did you eat something?” I asked her, ignoring him.
She nodded and held up an empty MRE wrapper.
“Good.” I tapped the mattress beside me. “Take a break from that and come here.”
She hesitated, clearly reluctant to abandon the neat stacks of paperwork she’d built, but eventually pushed herself to her feet. Small steps carried her across the floor until she stopped in front of me, uncertain what to do next.
I shifted my body, giving her space to sit.
After a second of visible debate, she folded herself onto the farthest corner of the mattress, posture stiff, watching and waiting.
“I know you’re not used to alpha and omega dynamics,” I said. “Not the way they’re meant to function.”
Her eyes narrowed. Silas’ did too. They were both trying to anticipate where I was going.
“When you were cold last night,” I continued, “Silas felt compelled to fix it. That alpha instinct isn’t aggression. It’s provision and protection.”
Her eyes flicked toward my brother.
A spike.
He didn’t look at her, but the muscle in his jaw worked overtime.
“So I’ll ask you again,” I breathed. “Do you need something from us, Lena?”
Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. Her eyes darted between us.
Silas exhaled sharply.
“We can smell you, little mute,” he said bluntly.
He finally turned toward her, his gaze dragging over her body.
“You’ve been spiking all morning.”
Her breath hitched.
“You think you’re subtle,” he continued, voice edged with impatience, “but you’re not.”
“Silas,” I warned quietly.
He ignored me.
“You don’t have to pretend you're not wet and needy for your handlers,” he said, tone dropping lower. “We already know.”
Her cheeks burned crimson.
I softened my voice. “You’re safe here, with us. If you ask us to help take care of your arousal, we won't hurt you. If you become… overwhelmed, we'll handle it. Adjust, stop, whatever you ask.”
Her fingers twisted in the fabric of her shirt.
“Our job as your handlers is to regulate you, Lena,” I said. “We can feel how wound you body is. Let us do our jobs and take care of it for you.”
When she didn't respond, Silas groaned and stepped away from the window.
“It's distracting! You're jeopardizing this stakeout! So if you need something, ask. We'll take care of it and then we can all focus on the mission again,” he admitted bluntly.
His hard eyes locked onto hers, then softened as shame crept in when he noticed his raised voice had upset her.
“I'm not angry or frustrated with you. You’re settling,” he clarified. “Trusting that you are safe. Your body’s reacting to that.”
A beat.
“And that’s not a bad thing. I want you to feel… safe.”
She stared at him, stunned by the rare softness beneath his edge.
I reached forward, brushing my knuckles lightly against her wrist to ground her.
“We don’t want you to have to navigate this alone,” I said. “Be honest with us.”
Silas crossed his arms, watching her carefully.
“Because if you need something,” he added, voice rougher now, “you’re not getting it from anyone else.”
Possessive.
Final.
And absolutely sincere.
Her scent spiked hard.
“Do you touch yourself for release?” I asked.
Lena’s eyes went wide.
Mortification washed over her face, pink racing from her throat to her hairline. Her bottom lip slipped between her teeth, worrying until it turned plump and raw beneath the pressure.
Silas exhaled slowly through his nose.
“Knox,” he warned me this time.
I ignored him.
“When was the last time you let yourself feel good?” I asked gently when she wouldn’t meet my eyes. "Do you ever touch yourself Lena? Do you ever slip your fingers into your pussy, exploring what feels good? Do you ever make yourself cum?"
A whimper left her throat. Not quite an admission and not quite a denial.
Silas stepped closer, voice lower now. Rougher.
“Your scent is growing stronger,” he said bluntly. “It’s bleeding into the hallway.”
Lena held her breath.
“If it spikes any harder,” he continued, eyes darkening, “half the block will know there’s an omega in here.”
“We need you grounded,” I added. “And your scent has to settle. My brother is right. It's making it very hard to do our jobs.”
Silas took a step closer to her.
“Right now, all I can think about are the soft moans you made in your sleep last night."
Another step.
"All I can think about is how good you smell. "
Another step.
"All I can think about is putting my mouth between your legs and tasting spiced peaches straight from the source.”
Her mouth fell open, stunned at his admission.
"I need to know what your pussy tastes like," Silas moaned, dragging a hand through his hair as he paced like a caged animal.
His approach was always unfiltered and blunt, raw enough to bulldoze straight through most people’s defenses. But I could see the conflict it caused in her by the way she tensed under the force of it, so I decided to try something softer.
“I’ll help you,” I breathed. “But only if you want it.”
Her pupils widened slightly.
“You can start by touching yourself on your own,” I continued, keeping my tone calm and steady. “Show me what feels good, Lena. Show me how your pussy likes to be handled. I won’t put my hands on you unless you ask for them, unless you decide you need more."
Her eyes darted to Silas questioningly, who stilled when he noticed her attention on him.
I chuckled lightly. “My brother and I don’t compete, We share. Always have.”
“Twins are a package deal,” he added with a dark smirk.
Her breathing had grown uneven now and her scent wasn’t spiking anymore. Just steady and thick with constant arousal.
She lingered on each of each as she weighed what to do. I caught her staring at my twin.
“If you want him,” I said plainly, “you can ask for him, too.”
Silas made a low, hungry sound in his throat, then stepped even closer, not touching, just close enough that his presence wrapped around her.
“Or…” he corrected, voice edged with raw need. “If you want both your handlers to touch you, we can. All you have to do is ask. Do you want to know what it feels like to unravel for us?”
She debated nervously.
“Answer the question,” he said finally, impatient but controlled. “Yes or no, little mute?”
Her pupils blew wide.
The room held its breath.