Chapter 12
TWELVE
NOAH
The drive to Whitesong Cabins took twice as long as it should have.
Snow blankets the road in increasingly thick layers, and even Grayson’s truck with its heavy-duty snow tires struggles on the steeper sections.
Visibility has dropped to almost nothing, the world beyond our headlights a swirling void of white.
“This is insane,” Kai says from the crew cab, peering through the windshield. “The storm wasn’t supposed to hit for hours.”
“Mountain weather,” I reply, gripping the door handle as Grayson navigates a sharp turn. “Unpredictable at the best of times.”
Grayson’s eyes remain fixed on the road, his hands steady on the wheel. “Barometric pressure dropped faster than forecasted. Wind shifted. Classic setup for a blizzard.”
“Thank you, Mr. Weather Channel,” Kai mutters. “Any other obvious observations you’d like to share?”
I ignore their bickering, focusing instead on the worry gnawing at my insides. Holly’s cabin is one of the more remote properties, tucked against the tree-line where the mountain slope steepens dramatically. Beautiful views, but isolated. Dangerous in a storm like this.
And if she is an omega off her suppressants...
The thought sends an unexpected thrill through me. I push it down, disgusted with myself. She’s a colleague in potential danger, not some sexual object for me to fantasize about. What kind of alpha am I?
The kind Jamie always accused you of being, a voice whispers in my head. Possessive. Controlling. Unreasonable.
I close my eyes briefly, willing the memory away. Not now. I can’t think about Jamie now.
“There,” Grayson says, pointing through the windshield. “Cabin lights.”
Sure enough, a warm glow penetrates the swirling snow ahead. Relief washes over me, followed immediately by embarrassment at how strongly I feel it. Holly is fine. Of course she’s fine. She’s a capable adult who doesn’t need three alphas charging to her rescue like something out of a bad movie.
Grayson pulls up to the cabin, the truck’s headlights illuminating Holly’s Subaru, already half-buried in snow. The cabin itself is small but sturdy, built to withstand Heat Mountain’s brutal winters. Smoke curls from the chimney, a good sign that she’s figured out how to use the wood stove.
“So what’s the plan here?” Kai asks as Grayson cuts the engine. “We just knock on her door and say: Hey, we were in the neighborhood during a blizzard and thought we’d drop by?”
“We’re checking if she needs supplies,” I say firmly. “That’s it.”
Kai’s knowing grin is infuriating. “Right. Just being neighborly.”
We trudge through knee-deep snow to the cabin’s front door. I raise my hand to knock, then hesitate. What if she thinks we’re intruding? What if she resents our assumption that she needs help?
Before I can overthink it further, Grayson reaches past me and raps sharply on the door.
For a long moment, there’s no response. Then, “Who is it?”
Holly’s voice sounds strained, higher-pitched than usual.
“It’s Noah,” I call back, wincing at the familiarity of offering up my first name. “With Grayson and Kai. We came to check if you need anything for the storm.”
Another pause. I can almost feel her debating whether to open the door.
Finally, the lock clicks, and the door opens a crack. Holly peers out, her face flushed and her hair slightly disheveled. “That’s... very considerate of you. But I’m fine, really.”
She’s lying again. I can see it in the tightness around her eyes, the slight tremor in her hand on the doorframe. Something’s wrong.
“The storm’s intensifying faster than predicted,” I say, trying to keep my tone professional. “Roads will be impassable within the hour. We brought extra supplies just in case.”
Holly glances past me at the truck, then back to my face. She seems to weigh her options.
“We’ve got firewood, water, food,” Kai chimes in with his most charming smile. “Even some of Grayson’s famous homemade deer jerky. It’s worth letting us in just for that.”
A ghost of a smile crosses her face, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I appreciate the thought, but I really am prepared. I’ve got everything I need.”
As she speaks, a gust of wind blows a flurry of snow against us, and Holly shivers visibly. The cabin behind her is dimly lit, and I catch a glimpse of blankets piled on the couch. Is she cold? The wood stove should keep the place warm enough.
Unless...
A thought strikes me, and my stomach drops. If she’s been taking suppressants regularly and suddenly stopped, her body would react quickly. Elevated temperature. Sensitivity to external stimuli. The beginnings of a heat cycle.
“Dr. Chang,” I say, keeping my voice steady, “as your colleague, I need to ask…are you really okay right now?”
Her eyes widen slightly, and I know I’ve hit the mark.
“I’m fine,” she repeats, but her voice lacks conviction. “Just a bit of a headache from the pressure change. Storms always make me a little stuffy.”
“Can I come in and check your cabin’s heating system?” Grayson asks unexpectedly. “These old places can have carbon monoxide issues during storms.”
It’s a transparent excuse, but it gives Holly a reason to let us in without admitting anything is wrong. She hesitates, then steps back, opening the door wider.
“I guess that’s okay,” she concedes. “But really, I don’t need—“
Her words cut off as she sways suddenly, grabbing the doorframe for support. I move forward instinctively, catching her elbow to steady her.
The moment I make direct contact, it’s like an electric current passes between us. Her skin is burning hot. And her scent—God, her scent. The clinical, antiseptic mask has slipped, revealing something underneath that makes my head swim. Something sweet, rich and undeniably omega.
Holly jerks away from my touch, eyes wide with panic.
“I’m fine,” she insists, voice cracking. “Just stood up too quickly. Low blood sugar, probably.”
But I can see the realization dawning in her eyes. She knows that I know. The game is up.
“Holly,” I say quietly, using her first name deliberately, “how long have you been out of suppressants?”
She stares at me, color draining from her face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do.” I hold up the prescription that Grayson found. “Omegablock. Prescribed to Holly Chang.”
For a moment, she looks like she might deny it again. Then her shoulders slump in defeat.
“A little more than a day,” she whispers. “I was rationing what I have left, but...” She swallows hard. “I ran out last night.”
I keep my voice clinical despite the way my pulse races at the confirmation. “You’re starting a heat cycle. Without proper medical supervision after long-term suppressant use, that could be dangerous.”
A flash of anger breaks through her composure. “I know that. I am also a doctor, in case you’ve forgotten.”
“Then you know you shouldn’t be alone right now. Especially not during a storm when emergency services might not be able to reach you.”
Holly’s eyes dart between the three of us, calculation and fear warring in her expression. “And what exactly are you proposing, Dr. Klinkhart? That I come with you? Three alphas I barely know?”
The implication stings, though I understand her caution. “We’re offering help, not... anything else. You can stay at Kai’s cabin. It has multiple bedrooms, an external generator and we can ensure you have medical attention if needed.”
“And when my heat fully manifests?” she challenges, a flush creeping up her neck. “What then?”
“Then you have a secure room with a lock,” I say firmly. “And three alphas who respect boundaries standing guard outside. Nothing more than that.”
Holly laughs, but it’s a bitter sound. “You say that now. But when an omega in heat is under the same roof—“
“We’re not animals,” Kai interrupts, his usual joking manner completely gone. “We’re offering help because it’s the right thing to do. Because no one should face a medical crisis alone in a blizzard.”
I have to resist the urge to drag her out of here no matter how much she might protest. “If your symptoms become severe, we can help manage them safely.”
Holly looks at Grayson, who has remained silent throughout the exchange. “And what about you? What’s your stake in this?”
Grayson meets her gaze steadily. “Heat Mountain protects its own.”
“I’m not one of your own,” she retorts. “I’m only going to be here for a few weeks.”
“You’re here now,” Grayson says simply. “That’s enough.”
A violent gust of wind rattles the cabin windows, as if emphasizing his point. The storm is worsening by the minute.
Holly closes her eyes briefly, and I can almost see her weighing her options. Pride versus safety. Independence versus necessity.
“Fine,” she says finally, opening her eyes. “I’ll come with you. But I need to pack some things first.”
Relief floods through me. “Of course. Take whatever time you need.”
As Holly disappears into the back of the cabin, Kai turns to me with raised eyebrows. “Well, that went better than expected.”
“Did it?” I murmur, watching the doorway where Holly vanished. “She’s terrified. And not just of the storm.”
“She’s afraid of us,” Grayson says bluntly.
The thought makes my stomach turn. “Then we’ll just have to prove to her we can be trusted.”
Kai nods, unusually solemn. “Agreed.”
I wonder what experiences have shaped Holly’s view of alphas.
What has made her so determined to hide her true designation that she’d risk her health and career?
The doctor in me wants to understand the medical implications of long-term suppressant use.
But the alpha in me—the part I’ve tried so hard to suppress since Jamie—wants to know who hurt her. Wants to make it right.
Holly returns with a small duffel bag. Her movements are slow and deliberate, as if she’s using all her concentration just to walk normally. The flush on her cheeks has deepened, and I can see a fine sheen of sweat at her temples despite the cabin’s chill.
“Ready?” I ask, keeping my tone neutral.
She nods once, sharply. “Let’s go before I change my mind.”
As we head back to the truck, Holly stumbles slightly on the snow-covered path. Without thinking, I reach out to steady her again, but she flinches away from my touch.
“I can manage,” she says stiffly.
I let my hand drop, ignoring the irrational sting of rejection. “Of course.”
Grayson takes her bag without asking, loading it into the truck bed while Kai holds the passenger door open with an exaggerated bow. “Your chariot awaits, Doc.”
A reluctant smile tugs at Holly’s lips. “Thank you, Mr. Trujillo.”
“I’m going to get you calling me by my first name if it kills me,” Kai says with a wink. “And you’re definitely going to want to be friends once you see my snack pantry.”
With a laugh, Holly slides into the truck, and I follow, acutely aware of her scent in the confined space.
It’s stronger now, sweeter, with an undercurrent of need that makes my pulse quicken.
I force myself to breathe shallowly, focusing on the medical implications rather than my body’s instinctive response.
Withdrawal from suppressants. Potential complications. Treatment protocols. Clinical thoughts to drown out the more primal ones lurking beneath.
As Grayson starts the engine and begins the careful drive back down the mountain, I glance at Holly in the rearview mirror.
She sits rigidly against the door in the back, as much space between her and Kai as possible, staring straight ahead, her hands clenched in her lap.
Every line of her body screams tension and discomfort.
I want to reassure her, to promise that she’s safe with us. But I know words won’t mean much to her right now.
Instead, I turn my attention to the storm raging outside, watching as the snow erases our tracks almost as quickly as we make them. By morning, there will be no evidence that we were ever at Holly’s cabin.
No turning back from the path we’ve set for ourselves.
Just like there’s no going back from what we’ve discovered about Dr. Holly Chang. Whatever happens next, everything has changed. For all of us.
As the truck crawls down the mountain through the blinding snow, I can’t shake the feeling that the real storm has been brewing since the moment Holly arrived in Heat Mountain. That somehow, despite all my efforts to maintain distance and control, I’ve been drawn into something I never expected.
Something that feels disturbingly like fate.