Chapter Nine
I held my breath for a second as I stepped into the sprawling penthouse, my eyes widening at the expanse of modern luxury, so at odds with the simple life I had built for myself. Soaring ceilings hovered above sleek steel and glass furnishings, all gleaming in the late afternoon sun that poured through floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. The space screamed power and intimidating sophistication, and I felt my slender frame tense, my heart palpitating.
My gaze darted around, unable to settle, taking in every lavish detail as if searching for an escape route. The plush carpet muffled my uncertain steps, and I wrapped my arms around myself, wishing I could disappear into the background. But in this stark showpiece of a home, there was nowhere to hide from the three striking gazes that watched my every move.
I could feel the weight of their appraisal as I moved further into the room, fighting the urge to make myself smaller under their scrutiny. Anders approached me first, his sandy hair highlighted by the evening lights, his warm brown eyes crinkling as he offered a gentle smile. I inhaled sharply, catching the hint of his scent, the soothing flow of water as it mingled with the other notes in the air.
Zach moved casually, like nothing had changed, like the world hadn’t cracked open. He tossed the remote from hand to hand as he dropped onto the couch. “Let’s see what the damage looks like out there,” he muttered, thumbing the power button.
“I think we’ve seen the damage firsthand, Zach,” Blake said, trying to take the remote from him. Zach pulled it away, taunting him.
The TV flared to life, sound low, but the images blared louder than any voice could.
Drone footage panned over the ruined part of town, collapsed buildings, emergency crews scrambling, people staggering through rubble. Then the shot cut closer. Street level. The reporter and her cameraman.
And there I was.
My face. On the screen.
I was kneeling beside Blake, my hands pressed to the blood-soaked shirt of a stranger. Dust streaked my hair, and there was a smear of something dark across my cheek. I looked... wrecked. Haunted, but alive.
The camera zoomed in. Focused, and my heart stopped.
A low ringing filled my ears, drowning out the muted voices in the room. That image, my face, my body, caught so clearly, it would spread. It was already spreading.
And he’d see it.
Kage. And his Alphas. They’d know.
Panic didn’t rise all at once. It slithered up my spine, in a cold, slow bloom. My knees trembled. The air thinned. My pulse was a war drum behind my eyes.
I didn’t say a word. Didn’t need to.
Blake’s head turned sharply toward me, reading everything I couldn’t hide. Zach’s smirk dropped like a stone. Anders went rigid beside the windows, his reflection mirrored in the dark glass.
None of them said anything.
But they all looked at each other and I saw it. The moment that changed everything.
"HERE, THIS SHOULD HELP take the edge off," Anders said, pressing a delicate China mug into my hands. I looked down to see the pale amber liquid, steaming and smelling of chamomile. "Don't worry about anything right now. We'll make sure you have clothes and whatever else you need."
I raised the mug to my lips, letting the subtle floral scent wash over me as I took a cautious sip. The tea was smooth and soothing, with just a touch of honey, and I felt some of the tension ebb from my shoulders despite myself. Anders was watching me drink I realized, with that same intent focus that made me want to squirm.
After I had taken a few sips, he asked, “How are you feeling now? You took quite a turn when you saw yourself on TV.”
I gave him a wan smile. “I’m okay.”
He nodded, but didn’t push the subject any further, much to my relief.
"Yeah, it's not exactly what any of us had planned, but hey, we're adaptable," Zach chimed in from across the room, flashing a boyish grin. "Though I was looking forward to having this whole place as my bachelor pad, but now you’re here," he said, smirking.
I rolled my eyes. His tone was playful, the words an obvious attempt to cut through the thickness in the air, but I could only manage a tight smile in response. The easy warmth of his voice, the mischievous glint in his striking gray eyes, the clean cedarwood scent that clung to him... it was all too much, too overwhelming in this foreign space.
I could feel my awareness of their alpha presence like a physical thing, prickling along my skin and clouding my already racing thoughts. The feeling only amplified as Blake stepped up beside Anders, watching me. His scent held a hint of damp earth, conjuring sensory memories of my childhood and the forest after a storm.
"We know this is a lot to process," Blake said, his deep voice restrained. "Take whatever time you need to settle in." But even with his careful words, I could sense the undercurrent of authority, the natural command that marked him as an Alpha used to being obeyed.
I nodded, my voice stuck beneath the lump of warring emotions in my throat. A part of me wanted to sink into their offered care, to let their steadying presence ease the ragged edges of my nerves. It would be so simple to surrender control, to let myself be protected like a proper omega.
But I had fought too hard for my independence to relinquish it now. I couldn't afford to trust their intentions, no matter how alluring the prospect was. So, I held myself rigid, my knuckles white around the delicate mug, and forced my replies to remain clipped.
"I appreciate the hospitality," I managed, the words falling flat. "I won't impose any longer than I have to."
The three alphas exchanged heavy glances, a wealth of unspoken communication passing between them in the span of a heartbeat. I could practically feel them making silent calculations, adjusting their strategies for dealing with the distressed omega in their midst.
I hated the way my omega instincts strained toward them. Every bit of my biology was attuned to their masculine presence, to the enticing strength and virility of their alpha scents. It enveloped me like a trap I had to claw my way out of.
Anders nodded; his smile was gentle but tinged with an edge of determination. "You're not an imposition, Summer. We want you to feel at home here." Zach hummed his agreement, though his playful expression had shifted to something sharper and more assessing.
Only Blake remained silent, watching the interaction with that piercing blue stare that seemed to strip me down to my most vulnerable core and find me wanting. I suppressed a shiver, telling myself it was just the general unease of being so out of my element. The alternative was that some traitorous part of me craved his intense regard. It was too disturbing to contemplate.
So, I simply nodded again, my smile paper-thin, and let their care and conversation swirl around me while I focused on reinforcing the crumbling walls of my self-possession. I would endure this unexpected detour in my life and navigate this foreign world of unavoidable alpha attention.
But I wouldn't let myself forget, even for a second, how vital it was that I kept my heart firmly locked away.
After tea, Anders led me down the hall and stopped at a door. He said little, just opened it, and gestured for me to walk inside. I managed a nod, something like thanks, but my throat was tight and dry.
The room was beautiful. Too beautiful. Soft grey walls, thick velvet curtains, bedding that looked like clouds. Everything was calm, curated, and designed to soothe.
But my skin prickled the second I stepped through the doorway.
The scent hit me first. Not bad. No. Just new. Faint traces of their world: masculine warmth, cedar, leather. Nothing mine. Nothing familiar.
This wasn’t home, no matter how much I wanted it to be.
I closed the door behind me and leaned against it, listening to the soft click as the latch caught. Then I let go. My shoulders sagged. My hands shook. I hadn’t realized how hard I’d been holding myself together.
The bathroom caught my eye with its clean white tile, glass shower, silver fixtures gleaming under soft light.
Sanctuary.
My feet moved before I told them to. Like I could outrun the day by stepping beneath hot water. Like maybe if I peeled off these filthy clothes, I could scrub away the way his voice still echoed in my head. The blood, the shaking, and the image of myself on the screen.
The bathroom was twice the size of the cramped rooms I was used to navigating. But I barely spared a glance for the marble countertops or the plush towels stacked neatly on their warming rack. All of my focus tunneled to the large glass shower. I turned it on, and within seconds, it began steaming with a preset temperature.
I stripped, folding Anders' coat and laying it aside, followed by my serrated bloody tutu. When I was naked, I stepped under the hot spray, letting it beat down on my head and shoulders like a cleansing rain.
Lathering up with the lavender-scented body wash, I focused on scrubbing every inch of skin except my leg. Carefully washing around the stitches, watching the dried blood flow freely down the drain.
The water cascaded over me, carrying away soapy residue, but doing little to ease the knots of tension that had taken up permanent residence in my muscles. The only way they would ease would be through dance, and I couldn’t see myself doing that anytime soon.
I closed my eyes and tipped my face up into the spray, willing my breathing to even out. This was just a temporary situation, I assured myself. A necessary evil to endure until I could get back on my feet. The alphas might believe they were doing me a favor, but I refused to be lulled into a false sense of security.
I'd grown up hearing the stories, watching the headlines. Omegas who trusted too easily, who let themselves be swept away by the first hint of alpha charm and possession. They always ended up losing themselves, their ambitions devoured by the endless demands of the Pack and their children. That was a fate I had sworn to avoid at all costs.
Even if a traitorous part of my brain yearned to belong to alphas as powerful and charismatic as Blake, Anders, and Zach. Even if my treacherous omega instincts whispered seductive promises of safety and surrender in their presence. I shook my head, dispelling the water droplets and the dangerous train of thought.
Reluctantly, I shut off the water and stepped out, wrapping myself in one of the fluffy ivory towels. I couldn't linger here forever, no matter how tempting it was to barricade myself in this room and let the world fade away.
Padding back out to the bedroom with the towel clutched around me, I found that someone, likely Anders, based on his earlier words, had laid out a set of pyjamas on the bed. Soft cotton pants and a plain gray t-shirt. They smelled of Zach, as cedarwood tingled my nose while I dressed.
A tentative knock on the door jolted me out of my thoughts. I tensed, still clutching the towel, before forcing myself to breathe evenly. "Come in," I called, my voice sounding thin and thready.
Anders stepped inside, his eyes sweeping over me, before crinkling into a small smile. "You look a bit more relaxed," he offered. "I thought you might be hungry?"
He gestured for me to follow him, and I did, trailing a few steps behind as he led me out to a small dining nook off the main living area. The table had already been laid out with a couple of steaming dishes. A hearty, savory scent wafted up, making my stomach clench with a reminder that I hadn't eaten since yesterday.
"Just a little stew and bread," he said, pulling out a chair for me. I smothered a flash of irritation at the courtly maneuver, reminding myself he was just trying to be helpful.
The food tasted as good as it smelled, the rich flavors coating my tongue and warming my insides. Anders sat across from me, not eating, simply watching me with that thoughtful amber gaze.
After several minutes, I set my spoon down, pushing the bowl away. Exhaustion was crashing over me in waves, my body feeling leaden and slow as the stress of the last twenty-four hours sank in.
"I think I need to lie down," I managed, barely suppressing a yawn. Anders nodded, unsurprised.
"Of course. We can save the rest for later." He stood and rounded the table, offering me a hand up. I pretended not to notice, levering myself to my feet and ignoring the faint furrow that formed between his brows.
I mumbled a vague approximation of thanks as I shuffled back to the bedroom, feeling the weight of his concerned stare between my shoulder blades. It took the last dregs of my energy to close the door behind me, shutting out the rest of the world.
I collapsed onto the king-sized bed, ignoring the silky charcoal comforter and mountain of throw pillows. They could have laid me down on a bed of nails, and I doubt I would have noticed at this point. Every muscle ached with a bone-deep weariness, and my eyelids felt like they were weighted with lead.
I curled onto my side, hugging a pillow to my chest as I finally let my eyes drift shut. My last hazy thoughts before sleep dragged me under were of the three alphas who had disrupted my life in the space of a single day. Even in the sanctuary of sleep, it seemed I couldn't escape them entirely.
The realization probably should have unsettled me more than it did. But I was already slipping away, my consciousness drifting into dreams tinged with hints of forest pines, fresh cedarwood, and mountain rivers. Scent memories of safety and unlooked-for comfort, wrapping around me like a blanket as I tumbled headlong into the darkness.