Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
HOLLY
The truck slows as we approach what can only be described as a mountain chalet.
The place is enormous, picturesque and not anything like where I would expect someone as goofy and self-effacing as Kai to live.
Through the swirling snow, I catch glimpses of stonework and massive windows glowing with warm light.
This can’t be right. I expected a cabin—something rustic and modest—not whatever architectural showcase is materializing before us.
“Home sweet home,” Kai announces from the back seat, leaning forward between Grayson and Dr. Klinkhart. “At least until this blizzard chills out.”
My stomach clenches. The fever burning under my skin makes it hard to focus, but even through the haze of my impending heat, I recognize that I’m completely out of my element.
This place looks like something from a luxury real estate Pinterest board—the kind my mother would peruse and sigh over, while also insisting that only a very shallow person would be impressed by it.
Grayson parks near the front entrance, the truck’s headlights illuminating a meticulously maintained driveway that someone has already cleared of snow. The engine cuts off, and sudden silence fills the cab. Nobody moves.
“We should get inside before the snow gets worse,” Dr. Klinkhart finally says, his clinical tone doing little to mask the tension I feel radiating from him.
I nod, unable to form words. My throat feels tight, and not just from the symptoms of heat withdrawal. This whole situation—being discovered, being vulnerable, being dependent on the mercy of three alphas I barely know—it’s everything I’ve spent my life avoiding.
My parents would be so disappointed.
The thought slices through me as I push open the door and step out into the biting cold.
The frigid air provides momentary relief from my fever, but it’s short-lived.
My legs tremble slightly as I stand, and I force myself to straighten my spine.
I will not show weakness. I will not be the helpless omega they seem to expect me to be.
Kai bounds past me up the stairs to the front door, fishing keys from his pocket.
“Welcome to my humble abode!” he calls back with a grin that somehow eases the knot in my chest slightly.
There’s nothing humble about this place. The exterior is a masterful blend of rustic mountain charm and modern architectural precision. Stone and timber frame enormous windows, and multiple balconies jut out from the second floor.
I feel Dr. Klinkhart’s presence behind me, not touching but close enough that I can sense his body heat. “Are you okay to walk?” he asks quietly.
“I’m fine,” I reply automatically, the words coming out sharper than intended. I soften my tone. “Thank you, but I can manage.”
Grayson appears at my other side, silently holding out my duffel bag.
I take it with a nod of thanks, appreciating both that he recognizes that I stubbornly want to carry my bag and immediately steps back to keep a careful distance between us once it’s clear I’m not going to fall over.
His eyes, visible above his ever-present black skull bandana, watch me with an intensity that should feel intrusive but somehow doesn’t.
We follow Kai into an entryway that could comfortably fit my entire apartment back home. Vaulted ceilings soar overhead, and a chandelier made of antlers casts a warm glow over polished hardwood floors.
“So,” Kai says, clapping his hands together, “Holly can stay in the heat suite. It’s fully stocked and has its own bathroom, plus it locks from the inside, so—“
“The what?” Dr. Klinkhart interrupts, one eyebrow raised.
“Heat suite?” Grayson repeats.
Kai’s confident demeanor falters for the first time since I’ve met him. A flush creeps up his neck as he shrugs, trying to reclaim his usual nonchalance.
“It’s just a guest room with some...accommodations,” he mumbles, suddenly finding his boots fascinating. “You know, in case...”
He trails off, and I watch with fascination as the atmosphere between the three men shifts. Dr. Klinkhart looks at Grayson, who shakes his head slightly. There’s an entire conversation happening without words, and I’m not privy to its meaning.
“This way,” Kai says, recovering his composure and gesturing toward a hallway.
We move through what must be the main living area, and I can’t help but stare.
The space is almost comically large, with a stone fireplace you could park a car in dominating one wall.
Floor-to-ceiling windows frame the snowstorm outside, making it feel like we’re watching a movie rather than experiencing actual weather.
Plush leather furniture is arranged in conversational groupings, and a massive flat-screen TV hangs above the fireplace.
Every detail screams wealth in a way that makes my skin itch.
Growing up, luxury meant having enough money to live in a district with good public schools and maybe the occasional indulgence of a family road trip vacation to the beach.
My parents worked themselves to exhaustion to put me through college, to give me opportunities they never had.
And now I’m standing in a multimillion-dollar home, about to go into heat in front of three alphas, my carefully constructed life crumbling around me.
Focus, Holly. You can only handle one existential crisis at a time.
Kai leads us down a hallway lined with what look like original art pieces—not the mass-produced prints that hung in my family home, but actual paintings with texture and depth. We stop at a heavy wooden door at the end of the hall.
Kai pushes it open with a flourish. “Here we are.”
I step inside and can’t suppress a small gasp.
The room is stunning—spacious yet somehow cozy, with a king-sized bed draped in actual silk sheets.
A sitting area with a small sofa and armchair faces another fireplace, this one already lit and casting dancing shadows on the walls.
Large windows offer a view of the forest, now just dark shapes against the white backdrop of snow.
But it’s the details that catch my attention. A mini-fridge hums quietly in one corner. A glass cabinet beside it is full of an assortment of teas, snacks, and bottled water. Plush blankets are folded at the foot of the bed and draped over the furniture. The lighting is soft and adjustable.
Every element has been chosen for comfort. For an omega in heat.
My fingers brush against the edge of a blanket, the material so soft it almost doesn’t feel real. I’ve never owned anything this decadent.
“The bathroom’s through there,” Kai says, pointing to another door. “It has a rainfall shower and a soaking tub. And, uh, everything’s scent-neutral. The cleaning products, the linens, everything.”
I turn to look at him, finding unexpected vulnerability in his expression.
“I thought it could be good for...” he trails off, gesturing vaguely with his hands.
“Thank you,” I say in the awkward silence. “This is very thoughtful.”
Kai brightens immediately. “Internet is spotty, so no streaming, but there is an excellent digital video library curated specifically for snow days. Nothing says blizzard like a good binge-watch, right?”
His attempt at lightening the mood works better than it should. I relax slightly, drawn to a plush chair by the window. Through the glass, I can see nothing but swirling white, the storm having erased the world beyond this room.
Maybe that’s fitting. For the next few days, my world will narrow to this space, to the battle between my biology and my will.
“We’ll be just down the hall if you need anything,” Dr. Klinkhart says, his professional mask firmly in place. “Anything at all.”
He still has to be Dr Klinkhart to me, I remind myself. No matter what happens while we’re stuck here, I can’t forget that this man is basically my boss and I’ll have to face him as a professional when this is all over.
Just praying I don’t embarrass myself between now and then.
I nod, not trusting my voice. The fever is creeping higher, making my skin feel too tight, too sensitive. Soon, the symptoms will be impossible to hide.
“The door locks from the inside,” Kai adds quietly. “Key’s in the drawer of the bedside table.”
The implication is clear—I can keep them out if I choose to. The fact that they’re making this explicit sends a wave of relief through me so strong it’s almost dizzying.
“Thank you,” I manage. “All of you. I know this isn’t... ideal.”
“Hey, what are neighbors for if not to rescue each other during blizzards?” Kai quips, but his eyes are kind. “Besides, it’s nice having company. This place gets too quiet sometimes.”
Given Kai’s personality, I find that hard to believe but I appreciate the sentiment.
“We should let you rest,” Dr. Klinkhart says. “I’ll check on you in a few hours, if that’s all right. Just to make sure you’re not having any dangerous withdrawal side effects.”
So protective, my mind whispers. Alpha wants to take care of you.
Fuck.
I squeeze my eyes shut hard enough to ache. Dr. Klinkhart is just displaying professional interest. He is a doctor. Hormones might put the image in my head of climbing him like a tree, but both of us are better than our biology.
“Yes,” I agree, the word coming out more breathless than I’d like. “That would be fine.”
The three men move toward the door, each casting a final glance my way. Their concern is palpable, but there’s something else there too—a protectiveness that should feel stifling but somehow doesn’t.
As the door closes behind them, I sink onto the edge of the bed, my legs finally giving out. The silk sheets are cool against my overheated skin, and I allow myself a moment of pure sensation before the reality of my situation crashes back.
I’m in heat.
And my secret is out.
Oh, also, I’m in a stranger’s house with three alphas only one flimsy door away.
Everything I’ve worked for, everything I’ve sacrificed for—my career, my independence, my identity—it’s all at risk now. One slip, one moment of weakness, and I could lose everything.
But as I look around this room, designed with such care for someone exactly in my position, I feel something unexpected take root alongside my fear: resolve.
I can get through this. I can weather this storm—both the one raging outside and the one building within me. And I don’t have to do it alone.
I curl up on the bed, pulling one of the impossibly soft blankets around my shoulders. Through the fog of fever and fear, one clear thought emerges:
For the first time in my life, I’m going to face what I am instead of running from it.
Whether that’s courage or surrender, I’m too exhausted right now to figure out.