Chapter 29 Quinn
Quinn
It’s the early hours of the morning when Quinn finds his jeans over the back of a kitchen stool, his T-shirt folded underneath.
They smell like Elias and dinner from last night.
He remembers the beta wearing it when he was cooking, his hips swaying to snippets of a song he only seemed to remember the chorus of.
Someone has hung Quinn’s bag near the door to the garage, beside Connall’s car keys, almost like a sign.
“Time to go,” Quinn whispers to himself.
His boots wait beneath the stool, lined side-by-side. He can pull on the jeans. He can slip into the borrowed T-shirt, but the boots trip him up. Those mean leaving. His stomach rebels as he lifts one, the leather heavier than it should be. The jacket goes on last, like familiar armor.
For the second time since he’d woken, he finds himself frozen with indecision.
He’d woken out of a dead sleep, dread and a strange buzzing anticipation under his skin, not sure what had brought him into consciousness.
The room was dim, lit only by the stove clock and a strip of moonlight slipping through the sliding glass doors. Everyone smelled warm and used and safe.
Quinn remembers shifting his knee so that it pressed into Soren’s thigh, the familiar smooth skin warm.
Soren shifted without waking, a sleepy sound in his throat, and Quinn had stilled on instinct, unwilling to disturb anyone or wake anyone up before he’d been ready.
The pack lies tangled in a loose knot in the center of the living room—limbs everywhere, blankets half-slid to the floor, bodies arranged by gravity and comfort rather than intent.
When Quinn checked the time on the microwave, it had been only two in the morning.
Too early to be awake. Too early to be thinking about what comes next.
Every minute from last night comes rushing back.
When his aching knot had finally slipped free, Quinn hadn’t been able to ignore the ache under his ribs, which had him reaching for Kaian before he’d fully caught his breath.
He could feel how wrung-out he was, his fragile Human weight shivering in his arms and unable to hold his wolf back even if he’d wanted to.
He’d swallowed that instinct to cherish his mates all day, but he couldn’t deny them both a second time.
He carried Kaian into the en suite, turned on the tap, steam beginning to ghost the mirror.
The tub filled while Quinn kept one hand moving along Kaian’s spine, the Human’s shivers and sighs of pleasure tingling in Quinn’s ear.
He’d finally lowered him in the soothing heat of the water and added a scoop of Epsom salts to ease his mate’s discomfort.
Kaian had tried to convince Quinn that a repeat performance wasn’t the bad idea it so clearly was, and Quinn had been tempted.
Memories of his mate’s perfect heat clenching around him won’t fade from Quinn’s memory any time soon.
He’ll keep that single moment locked into that box in his mind, where he keeps every time he’s been loved by Soren.
Quinn can’t deny that their coming together had been even more powerful because of Connall’s proximity.
His heated gaze, his strong hand, and wintry arousal pushing Quinn over the edge faster than ever before.
He’d like to think it had been that he’d been on edge for too long, but that would be even more of a lie.
After washing Kaian’s smooth back, he’d taken up a spot beside the tub, just staring at him. Soft skin, shining with water, damp tendrils of dark hair slipping free from his hastily tied topknot. It felt too good, wanting him like this, in the open, without armor, and Quinn couldn’t look away.
Isaac blew in just as Quinn was thinking about seeing pleasure on Kaian’s face for the second time.
Still damp from his own shower, he climbed straight into the other end of the tub, where he and Kaian commenced an animated discussion about the alphas’ perfect dicks—complete with hand gestures and unsolicited rankings.
Quinn had laughed then. Laughed like this was normal. Like this was his life.
Panic had driven him to his feet, a fake smile doing nothing to fix the startled expressions on their faces. He could not leave them to it fast enough, and he’d offered no explanation.
He’d found Elias in the kitchen, sweet-smelling from his shower and elbow-deep in a meal that filled the house with something warm and rich.
Soren was perched beside Connall on the couch, showing him YouTube shorts from his favorite series on Connall’s phone, laughing too loudly at jokes Connall didn’t quite understand.
The older alpha’s eyes hadn’t been on the phone at all but were transfixed by Soren’s joyful expression.
Quinn couldn’t blame him; their mate was only more stunning when he was relaxed and satisfied.
It had been all horribly—perfectly—domestic.
They’d even managed to eat before the next and final wave of Connall’s rut had hit. This time, Quinn hadn’t stayed to watch. Kaian seemed safe enough with Isaac and Elias that he’d escaped to the bathroom on his own.
A scalding hot shower had helped him drown out the sounds slipping under the door and the stinging pain killing any thoughts his cock had about saying fuck it all and joining in.
When he’d come back out, they’d been asleep in a tangle of limbs and a haze of satisfied scent.
Isaac had tugged him in with sleepy insistence, and Quinn had let himself be pulled down, letting their warmth ease him into rest.
But now he’s awake, and it hits him.
This is what his life will be like. The comfort of warm, loving hands that soothe and care.
Hot food waiting on the stove and served around a table with smiling faces sharing about long days.
A blending of voices, laughing or humming off-key in the background.
Chore schedules where he’ll be washing dishes or doing six people’s laundry on rotation every other week.
And familiar scents creeping into his clothes and hair until he smells more like pack than like himself.
His throat tightens, and his skin feels too aware of every point of contact, every place he fits perfectly into this group of incredible men. This is what staying would be like every day for the rest of his life.
Quinn knows to his very soul that staying would mean becoming a landmark instead of the traveler.
Right now, there’s a low ache in his chest that isn’t pain.
It’s grief for the version of himself who could still leave without anyone noticing.
After the last few days, there’s no going back.
Any version of himself from now on will be defined by staying or leaving.
Now that Connall’s rut is over, there will be the inevitable, lucid conversation. Why didn’t you want to join us? Is there something wrong with us? Why haven’t you been claimed like Soren?
None of the others is claimed, either. Connall had refused to bite Isaac or Elias while the rut hormones were high, and Elias had backed him without hesitation.
Not because Elias hadn’t wanted it—he’d nearly cried when he said it—but because he is, above all else, practical.
Some would argue a bite like that wouldn’t be consensual.
So, now that they’re all on this side of the pheromone haze, Quinn already knows how this will go.
He can practically hear Isaac insisting they fix it the moment his eyes open, and he smells that Connall’s wintry scent has settled back to normal.
And isn’t that the thing? That Quinn has stuck around through this long enough to know exactly what “normal” is. That Elias is normally practical and that Isaac will accept a second denial is near impossible, and where Isaac goes, so does Elias.
He snags the Mustang’s keys and heads toward the sliding door. He can’t use the front door—that’s too loud, and it’ll bring them all awake in an instant. The glass door slides open on a whisper, and he slips into the yard like a ghost.
A bolt of something sharp pierces behind his sternum. For a second, he has to brace himself on the doorframe, as if leaving requires muscle he isn’t sure he still has.
Behind him, Connall growls so low that Quinn freezes, but the alpha doesn’t haul him back over the threshold.
After a moment, he slips out the door and pulls it shut.
Two short strides and he’s over the fence, landing hard on the cement walk before rounding the front of the house.
The white Mustang gleams in the moonlight, and it takes a few heart-pounding tries to get the key into the lock.
The pain in his belly peaks. He barely has time to turn before he’s on his knees, gagging up what’s left of Elias’s incredible meal onto the lawn. Throat burning, his eyes water. He retches again, emptying himself like his body is trying to purge the thought of leaving from his mind and body.
Climbing to his feet, Quinn gets in and pops the car into neutral. Of course, the driveway is perfectly level. Connall would never buy a house that was anything but perfect. It means Quinn has to push.
He climbs back out, braces both hands against the car frame, and leans his weight into cold metal.
The Mustang resists, stubborn and heavy, and his lungs burn as he forces it, inch by inch, backward down the drive.
He can’t risk starting it within earshot.
He’s not sure he could look Elias or Isaac in the face if they appeared in the doorway, and he still doesn’t have words for the questions they’d ask.
It takes far longer than it should. He half-expects Connall to appear naked in the moonlight at any second, furious and hurt.
It’s that last one Quinn is afraid he can’t handle.
He finally hits the end of the driveway, and he climbs in, resting his forehead on the wheel. The leather smells faintly like cold winter and an oil he can’t place. It’s not overly pleasant, and it feeds the nausea in his belly. He curls his shaking hands around the wheel.
“Time to go,” he whispers, and he’s still no closer to turning the key in the ignition when the passenger side door is yanked open. For a minute, he thinks he’s been sitting so long that Soren or Connall has come to haul him back inside. But it’s not them, it’s Kaian.
Dressed in Connall’s white shirt, old blue jeans, and his reliable jacket covered in those pins that Quinn never got a chance to ask about.
He’s pale and a little green, full mouth pinched against something Quinn knows all about.
“No, bébé. No way.” Kaian needs to be inside, where the others can make sure the Vincenzos can’t get a piece of Quinn’s vulnerable Human mate.
“Fuck that. If you’re going, so am I.” The words are firm, not an ounce of hesitation in his voice.
Even though he doesn’t ask why Quinn is sitting in the silent car in the middle of the night, Quinn can’t help but say, “I can’t stay. This isn’t me.”
He’s said it all before, knows Kaian hasn’t forgotten his confessions about being Fate’s pawn.
“Yeah, so you said.” Kaian swallows something back that looks a lot like hurt.
“It’s got nothing to do with you—”
Kaian snorts disbelievingly. “Sure.” He doesn’t push, though, only looking out the window.
“Go back inside, Kai. Let Soren and Connall protect you. They’ll know what to do about those guys at my apartment.”
Kaian is already shaking his head. “I can’t stay any more than you can.
The guys who are after me?” He looks at him, dark eyes wet with unshed tears of regret.
His sadness makes Quinn’s heart ache, but it’s regret that makes his wolf whine.
Kaian wants this life, and even though their reasons are different, the pain is still the same.
“Those guys…they’re as bad as it gets. And I can’t put them at risk, you know? Can you see Isaac taking that shit lying down?” He chuckles, and Quinn has to smile a little, too. No, Isaac Fletcher wouldn’t let some crazy mobster into their den without a fight.
He must have said that out loud, because Kaian is nodding. “Right? And there will be, alpha. A fight, that is. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but really soon. I can’t see when exactly, because it’s about me, you know?”
No, Quinn doesn’t understand at all. They hadn’t gotten to the full extent of Kaian’s brilliant power. But it wouldn’t matter when, because Quinn won’t be here to see it.
“I think that’s why I can’t see your—” He shakes his head. “Well, I won’t drag y’all into this mess, either.”
“Kaian, let us—”
Another bitter laugh, and he shakes his head. Makes eye contact with Quinn for the first time. Kaian might not be able to see Quinn in the dark car, but Quinn can see his mate’s heartbroken but determined expression.
“No. There is no ‘us.’ You want to go. I need to go. Let’s just fucking do it.”
Out of the corner of his eye, the lights in the house come on. A large shadow appears in the window, and Quinn figures it’s now or never.
He turns the key and puts it into gear. He’ll get them somewhere and call Connall to pick Kaian up. Or at least make sure that Kaian won’t be alone.
He pulls away from the curb, pressing the pedal to the floor. He doesn’t mean to look in the rearview mirror, but as he blows through the stop sign, he thinks he sees Soren standing naked at the end of the driveway, watching them drive away.
Quinn had thought he’d feel relief—that the only thing on his mind would be freedom, but it’s not.
His only thought is that he’d wished he’d kissed Soren goodbye.