Chapter Forty-Nine
Rhea
T he scent of eggs and something buttery hits me like a punch to the soul.
It's not just food, it's breakfast . Comfort. Sanity. Possibly salvation.
Lucian’s shirt hangs down to my thighs, and his sweatpants are hanging on for dear life. I look like someone raided their ex’s closet in a teen drama and then wandered into a cooking show, but I don’t care.
I follow the smell like a bloodhound with trust issues.
Theo’s at the stove, sleeves pushed up, spatula in hand, brow furrowed like he’s performing a very serious omelet autopsy. Meanwhile, Lucian leans against the counter like a cologne ad came to life: mug in hand, jaw sharp enough to cut granite, posture saying I own several properties , but eyes softer than they should be.
He looks… calm. Like the man who I felt crater a wall with his fist through our bond might actually be capable of peace.
I hate how hot that is.
“Good morning, Rhea,” Theo says, flipping something in the pan like we’re all just normal people who didn’t spend the last week defiling every surface in this house. “You’re upright. That’s promising.”
“Barely,” I mutter, flopping into a barstool like I’m auditioning to be the world’s most tired pancake. “But if I’m vertical and sarcastic, I call that progress.”
Lucian approaches without a word and places a mug in front of me.
I blink. It’s ginger tea.
My tea. The one I drink when my headaches make me contemplate sedition.
I blink up at him, caught off guard.
“How did you…”
Lucian shrugs, the tiniest shift of one shoulder. “Lucky guess.”
Sure . And I’m a mild-mannered beta.
I wrap my hands around the mug and let it warm my fingers - and maybe a few shattered pieces of my soul. Just a little.
“You’re lucky,” Theo chimes in from the stove. “Kai and Ash had to run. Work stuff.”
I raise a brow. “Did they say goodbye?”
Theo grins. “Kai said, and I quote, ‘ Tell the brat I’ll be back for round three when she can walk straight again .’”
I choke on my tea so hard I nearly astral-project.
Lucian closes his eyes like he’s either meditating or trying not to picture throwing Kai off one of his balconies.
“Well. That’s haunting,” he comments.
Theo slides something golden and perfectly crispy onto a plate.
“Ash said to rest,” Theo continues, utterly unfazed. “And that he’d bring your phone and your camera back later. Since, you know, Kai forgot. Again.”
That makes me freeze.
My phone. My camera. My life. Everything outside this alpha-infested fever dream I’ve been trapped in. It feels so far away, like something that belonged to a past version of me. One that had bills and clients and a weird landlord who communicates exclusively in passive-aggressive sticky notes.
But now I can see it again. Just barely.
The silence isn’t awkward - rather, it’s tentative . Like we’re all still figuring out what this is now that the worst of it has passed.
Lucian clears his throat. “You slept okay?”
“Yeah,” I say, sharing a private smile. “I did.”
He nods once, then goes still again.
Theo finishes cooking and plates the food with his usual quiet care: eggs, toast, fruit, something sweet-smelling I can’t name.
He sets it all in front of us at the table like he’s done it a hundred times before.
“…You cooked all this?”
Theo shrugs. “I stress-bake. You were unconscious for the first batch.”
I bite back a smile. “So this is round two?”
“This is recovery brunch.”
I eat slowly, trying not to cry over scrambled eggs. It’s harder than you’d think.
And then, without meaning to -
“I should probably think about going home.”
Everything stops.
“You don’t have to,” Lucian says, recovering quickly. “You’re safe here.”
“I know.” I sip my tea. “But I miss my space. My terrible water pressure. The weird dent in my mattress. You know… me stuff. ”
Lucian’s jaw shifts, and I can see the thoughts flickering behind his eyes.
Calculating. Controlling. Protective.
“I can take you back,” he says after a pause. “Later. But maybe we give it another night or two. Just to be sure.”
It’s reasonable.
It’s also annoying, because he’s right.
Theo sips his coffee, watching us both over the rim of his mug. He sets it down and leans his elbows on the table.
“So.” His voice is casual, but the weight behind it isn’t. “What do you want to do?”
I frown. “About..?”
"About… everything . You’re bonded to four Alphas. Unregistered. And someone is going to notice eventually.”
Lucian leans forward, arms folding over the countertop.
"If we mark her," he says to Theo, voice clinical, “the OMB won’t be able to touch her.”
Theo nods grimly. "Marking solidifies it."
I freeze, fork halfway to my mouth. “Oh. Well. That’s… reassuringly terrifying.”
“It's true, though. Claiming makes it official. Illegal bonds don’t get prosecuted if they’re… permanent .”
“And how, exactly,” I ask slowly, “do we plan to make the OMB back off?”
Lucian’s mouth tightens. “Well, for starters, we know nobody's reported you in. Yet.”
“We do?”
He nods. “If someone reported you, we’d know. We have… ways.
I narrow my eyes. “ Ways ?”
Theo raises an eyebrow, slow and skeptical. “Lucian’s family has connections,” he says dryly, the edge in his voice unmistakable.
Lucian doesn’t flinch - rather, he’s as casual as you please.
“My father,” he says smoothly, “happens to be the current Director of the OMB.”
The words hit like a blow.
Theo stiffens. I stare at Lucian, throat tight.
"You’re serious," I say flatly.
I blink. My heart thuds once, hard.
“You’re the OMB prince?!”
“I didn’t want to be,” Lucian says, almost sheepish for someone who looks like a war crime in a tailored shirt. “It's something I try and keep as quiet as possible.”
“And you just… used that to keep tabs on me?”
“I used it to protect you.”
“Without telling me.”
“You had a lot going on.”
“Lucian, I had four alphas and a heat so bad I hallucinated a second ceiling fan.”
His jaw ticks. “That’s not the point.”
“You said ‘we have ways. ’” My voice is quieter now, but not soft. “You meant him .”
“I meant the reach that comes with his name,” Lucian says. “The people loyal to him. The ones who send reports straight to his desk. If anything came through the system about you - your lack of registration, your scent file, a flagged interaction - we’d know.”
“So you’ve been watching.” The realization hits me like cold water. “Since the gala?”
“Yes. And I was trying to keep you out of it, Rhea. I didn’t want this - didn’t want to involve you in the kind of power games my family plays.”
My stomach flips, the weight of it all pressing down.
“But you still used it.”
“I used what I had to make sure you were safe.”
“You lied ,” I say. Not accusing, not really - just… Trying to understand. “You let me believe this was a gamble. That there were risks.”
“There were,” he says sharply. “There are . But once you were bonded, once you’re marked, you’d be ours . And there’s no going back from that. Not emotionally. Not biologically.”
He exhales, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck.
“That’s why I waited. That’s why I stayed away. Because once it happened, I knew I’d never walk away from it. From you .”
The air between us crackles.
Too much has been said, but also not enough.
I stare at him across the counter, heart pounding. I don’t know whether to scream, or run, or kiss him again just to shut him up.
I settle for making a point.
“Next time you decide to weaponize your last name, maybe tell me first.”
Lucian’s lips twitch - half amusement, half regret. “Noted.”
Theo exhales slow through his nose. “So. You’re in?”
Lucian doesn’t blink.
“If that’s what Rhea wants, then yes. I’ll mark her.” He looks at me, then - really looks at me. “And together,” he says quietly, “we’ll form a pack.”
Something in my chest swells. A lightness, a warmth. Like every scattered part of me finally remembered where it belongs.
I reach across the counter to take his hand. Lucian’s fingers curl around mine instantly, strong and steady and sure. The connection between us sparks to life again, low and golden, the bond humming like it knows exactly what we’re choosing.
He feels it too. I can tell.
His thumb brushes along my knuckles, and for a moment, the world fades out.
I lean over the counter before I can second-guess it and press my lips to his. It’s a chaste brush - all soft and warm and certain - and for once, it’s not about possession or heat or claiming. It’s something else. Something simple.
Yes.
When I pull back, I don’t say it out loud. I don’t have to.
Lucian’s eyes are warm and a little wide, like he wasn’t expecting the kiss, but felt every second of it. And I know he hears me through the bond, that he feels the calm inside me, the joy, the peace .
The happiness I’m sharing with him freely.
His mouth lifts into something real. Something unguarded.
Behind us, Theo doesn’t speak, but I see the faintest hint of a smile tug at the edge of his mouth.
For the first time, it doesn’t feel like chaos.
It feels like home .