Chapter Thirty-Two
Aubrey
Construction noise drifts up from below when Espie whimpers herself awake beside me.
I smooth a hand through her hair and kiss her forehead until she relaxes again, curling tight against my chest.
Our sleeping area has grown since we first made it. Blankets the alphas brought us. Pillows that smell like them.
I couldn't resist them. Neither could Espie. We've layered their scents around us one offering at a time until the whole thing smells like pack.
I bury my face in the blanket nearest my head, fresh linen, Ezra's. My hindbrain settles, and some of the tension drains from my shoulders before the dread creeps back. I don't want to move. Don't want to break this small pocket of safety we've made.
My heat is building. I've been trying not to think about it, but my body won't let me forget. The cramps come and go now, a preview of what's coming. I know what I'll need when it hits hard. I’ve never had a female alpha and there’s something about the thought of her lock clamping me inside her while I make her scream. But a lock won’t be enough.
I'll need a knot.
I'll need a male alpha.
I reach for my throat, fingers tracing the thin scar that circles my neck. I feel the phantom bite of leather. Axel tightening it. Making me crawl to him. Making me—
No.
I slide my fingers up, find Espie's bonding bite instead. The raised tissue where her teeth broke skin, where she claimed me, where I chose her, right over the marks Axel's collar left behind. Her claim covering his damage.
Warmth spreads from the scar, down my spine. The bond hums, and I swear I can smell gardenia rising from the healed skin. My shoulders drop. I didn't know I was holding them so tight.
There are a few problems with my upcoming heat. I’m going to need male alphas, and there’s a high chance mine will trigger Espie’s too. I have known a good pack of caring alphas who I’ll miss every single day, but she’s known nothing but trauma.
I wish we had another life. One where I was an alpha and I could tend to her the way she needs. But that’s wishful thinking and this is reality.
She stirs against me, makes a soft sound, burrows closer.
“You're thinking too loud,” she mumbles against my collarbone.
“Sorry.”
“Mmm. Stop it.” She sinks her teeth into my collarbone, the vicious little thing. “Are you getting up?” She says when I move my arm from beneath her.
“I’m going to the kitchen for food. I’ll bring some up if you want to keep sleeping.”
She makes a sound that might be approval, might be sleepy protest. Her scent deepens with contentment as she settles back into the blankets. I frown because she should have slept long enough already. This is a sign I can’t ignore.
Her body and mine are definitely preparing for our heats.
I press my lips to her hair, slip out of the nest, dress in some low slung sweats and head downstairs.
Ezra is already in the kitchen when I step through the doorframe. He looks up when I come in, and his eyes crinkle at the corners.
“Good morning.” His hungry gaze roams over my bare chest before snapping back to my face. A tinge of pink heats his cheeks. “Are you hungry? Can I make you something?”
These alphas. Always stepping over themselves to make us comfortable. The tension running through my shoulders eases. Beyond the window, Kev and Lex are working on the patio frame. It’s enclosed with glass now, but they’re installing a door that can open the entire wall facing the backyard.
“I was going to make something. For me and Espie.”
“Have a seat.” He sets his mug on the counter. “Let me do this. As your alpha.”
As my alpha. The word doesn’t slap me the way it usually does.
My stomach only twists a little. Enough for me to breathe through the urge to find the closest blanket and burrow down.
Not that those ridiculous omega urges ever helped.
If they did, I’d burrow under a cannon. Or a flame-thrower.
Something big and bad enough to fight off alphas who—
A cramp twists through my lower belly as I settle into the seat, sharp enough to steal my breath. I grip the edge of the table until it passes.
“Hey.” Ezra's already moving, spatula down, half-turned toward me. “Are you alright, Aubrey?”
The way he's looking at me. Like he's already calculating the fastest route to the nest, or the chair on the patio, somewhere he can tuck me in and stand guard. It's a lot. Too much, maybe. I wave a hand at him.
“I'm okay.”
He doesn't move. Just watches me, checking, the way he does, like he's reading something underneath my words.
“You'll tell me if you need anything?” His voice is steady. “I'm here for you.”
His scent reaches me then. Fresh linen and something warmer underneath, woodsmoke. Clean and rich and not asking anything from me. My shoulders drop a little.
“It was just a twinge.” I manage a smile. “I'm okay now.”
He holds my gaze for one more beat. Then he turns back to the pan. He doesn’t believe me but he’s not pushing.
“What are you planting out there?” He's whisking the eggs now. “I saw the new pots arrive yesterday.”
“Tomatoes. Peppers. Espie wants herbs too. Basil and rosemary and...” I trail off. Wait for the stutter that always comes. The catch in my throat, the way my voice breaks and stumbles over simple words.
It doesn't come.
“And?” Ezra prompts.
“Mint. Espie talked about mint.”
I'm talking. Full sentences. The words come out and they sound like me, like the person I used to be before Axel broke my voice along with everything else. I'm sitting in a kitchen with a male alpha and the words are just coming. My voice is still here.
Ezra slides a plate in front of me: eggs, toast, sliced fruit. He comes around to my side. Sits down next to me, shoulder to shoulder, and opens the laptop that's been sitting on the kitchen table.
“I've been looking at some flowers to buy. Espie likes the marigolds. I thought you guys might like some other varieties. For your ne— For the patio,” he says.
He was going to say nest. I look out at the patio and the frame they've built around the chair. They haven't moved it. Haven't touched it. It's piled with blankets and clothing and things we've taken from the alphas. I scent us through the cracked window. Me and Espie and Sera.
“Where's Sera?” I keep my voice even.
Ezra goes still. His eyes cut to the window, then back to his coffee. That's answer enough.
“Tell me what's going on.”
“Aubrey, it's—”
“Don't.” The word comes out flat. “Don't tell me it's fine. Don't manage me.” I look at him straight. “I’m a traumatized omega, not an infant. Where’s my alpha?”
And she is mine. That's not a feeling I'm used to yet, that kind of claiming.
It sits strange in my chest, big and a little frightening.
But Sera's scent is threaded through me whether I'm ready for it or not.
Basil first, sharp and green. Blood orange underneath, warmer.
Cedar at the base, steady. It doesn't matter that she's shut herself away.
The bond doesn't consult me about what it does. She’s inside me and her absence presses behind my sternum every time I breathe in and she isn't there.
Ezra looks at me. Really looks, the way he does when he's deciding how much to say, weighing me up like I might not be able to take it.
I hold his gaze. “I'm thirty-two years old, Ezra. I can take it. Tell me.”
He sighs. Long and tired. “She's been in her room since yesterday.
The door is shut and she won't come out.
We've knocked and we've called her phone but it goes straight to voicemail every time.” He shakes his head.
“I think we're pushing her away. We want her to know she's wanted. That she fits here. That this pack is hers too.” He wraps both hands around his mug.
“And instead she's retreating. She's locked herself in and gone quiet.
She is more convinced than ever that she doesn't belong, and I think we are the ones doing that.
We think we're helping and we're just making it worse.”
“That's not right.”
The words are out before I decide to say them. Ezra looks up.
“You're not pushing her away. You're a good alpha.” I hold his gaze so he knows I mean it. “The same kind of good my first pack was. You wouldn't push anyone away. That's not who you are.”
He doesn't answer straight away. Just looks at me like he's not sure what to do with that.
The rage comes from nowhere. Hot and clean and so unexpected I almost don't recognize it as mine. I've spent years not being allowed to be angry. Swallowing it. Turning it inward because the alternative was worse. This doesn't feel like that. This feels like something waking up.
“Give me your phone.”
“Aubrey—”
“Ezra. Your phone. Please.”
He doesn't argue. Just slides it across the table.
Her name is saved. I hit call. It goes straight to voicemail, her recorded voice brisk and clipped, and I hang up before it finishes. I open the messenger app. My fingers are steadier than I expect.
SERA
It's Aubrey. I know you're in there hiding from us.
Whatever you think you're protecting us from, you're wrong.
Put your big girl panties on and come out.
My thumb hovers over send. My heart is going too fast. This is me telling an alpha what to do. This is me deciding I have the right. Six months ago I couldn't have done this. Six months ago I could barely string three words together out loud.
I hit send.
The light-headedness hits immediately, a quick dizzy rush, but underneath it something in my chest loosens. Some locked-up thing I didn’t realize I was still carrying. I'm an omega. I'm not a victim. I'm done being handled like the truth might break me.
I put his phone back on the table and take a breath.
Ezra is watching me. There's something in his expression that takes me a moment to name. Not pity. Not relief exactly. Something quieter than both.
“That was good to see,” he says. “That's you healing, Aubrey.”
I have no idea how to handle that. I look at my hands instead.