Chapter 26
Zane
The new house is a white monolith just off the cliff edge, perched above the tide like a lookout post. It’s three stories tall with a full wall of windows facing the sea.
The sign in the window still reads “UNDER CONTRACT,” but Helena’s father has paid in full as an apology, and the agent dropped off the keys with the urgency of someone who knew the buyer’s name could shatter a career.
I walk the perimeter twice. The first time around is done with a security checklist. The second is done using my gut to check for measures we may have to take.
I find nothing critical, especially as the home came with a state-of-the-art security system preinstalled that means I can—in theory—start relaxing.
If I ever learn how to.
Helena’s father wanted the house ready before she saw it. I wanted it safe. Neither of us said anything about making it feel like home.
The inside smells like fresh paint and packing tape.
The rooms are a little too open—an architect’s wet dream.
But I imagine the four of us—Helena, Cole, Lucas, and me—filling up these spaces and leaving marks.
I imagine Helena pressed against the glass in the morning, her hair catching sunlight like the first hour after a storm.
The visual makes me pause on the staircase.
I reset myself, double-check every window, and then lock up tight and text Helena.
She doesn’t answer. She’s probably elbows deep in research, head buried in the world of the book she’s been writing. I pocket my phone and cut across the bluffs, following the path through wild heather and the ghost of brine.
Cole’s house is all the way at the end of a cove road, tucked behind a driftwood fence and sun-bleached by decades of coastal weather.
It’s where we’ve all been living together while looking for a place big enough for a full pack.
Inside, the air tastes like salt and cinnamon, a blend of his and Lucas’s baking habits.
There’s laughter from the kitchen, but I don’t go in.
Instead, I find Helena in the living room, where she’s curled sideways on the sofa.
She’s got one leg kicked over the armrest and a laptop balanced on her knee in a way that is not at all ergonomically healthy.
The room is flooded with the weird, blue light of late afternoon.
She’s wearing one of my shirts, half-buttoned, and her hair is still wet from a shower.
She looks like the universe’s most dangerous invitation.
I accept.
Helena doesn’t see me at first. I clear my throat. “If you keep making that face, you’ll get stuck like that.”
She doesn’t look up. “If you keep sneaking up on me, you’ll eventually give yourself a heart attack from my reaction.”
“It’s not sneaking if the door was open.”
She types another sentence, then shuts the laptop with a mock sigh. “Don’t be cute. It’s not in your contract.”
“Noted.” I settle into the armchair across from her, but she’s already opened the laptop again. Her fingers chase each other over the keys, fast and purposeful. “How’s it coming?”
Helena lifts her head. Her eyes are glassy from staring at this screen for far too long. “I’m going to send it to my agent tonight. Maybe tomorrow morning. Depends on whether I let myself edit again or just hit ‘send’ on this draft and deal with the fallout after.”
I lean forward. “Are you sure about that?”
Everything about this book deal happened quickly.
After Helena became the technically second Starling to buck against omega tradition in high society and royalty, all manner of media reached out to discuss opportunities.
Helena took this one so she could tell her story her own way, and maybe help out other omegas along the way who are in similar positions.
“Nothing is ever sure.” She shrugs, a little too deliberate.
“But it feels right. The story is… It’s not about us, specifically, but anyone with two neurons will recognize the blueprint.
The point is, love shouldn’t be collateral in a political arms race.
Packs shouldn’t be built out of obligation or advantage.
” She glances up and meets my eyes. “You get it, right?”
She’s asking for my approval. Maybe even my blessing. I’m used to being the shield, not the advisor. But I also know what it’s like to live in a system that turns people into puzzle pieces. “Yeah, I get it.”
Helena smiles. “Good, because I quote you in Chapter Four.”
“Please tell me you left out the part where I almost tased a wedding guest at your brother’s wedding.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Zane. That’s the best part. It shows your devotion.” She closes the laptop again and hugs it to her chest. For just a flash, her bravado slips and I see her—the girl who ran away from the family estate and legacy.
What kind of legacy were they brewing, though?
I think the one Helena’s forming is far more honest.
I clear my throat. “What’s your plan for after the book releases?”
“Hide in this house and eat every Cornish pasty in a ten-mile radius.” Her lips twist. “I’ll take the brunt of it and let everyone else in the family scream themselves hoarse for a week or two.
By then, it’ll be the spring news cycle, and no one will care except my father.
” She lifts her chin. “He’s already read a draft. He said he’s proud.”
Funny. A few months ago, I think he would’ve lost his shit reading it.
But I was right that he’d come around. Now Helena’s gone from leaving the family home to landing a book deal set for publication in the late spring.
“That’s something,” I say.
Helena’s eyes light up. “Ranier called this morning, by the way. He wants to see the house and all of us. He said he’d fly out this weekend with his whole pack.
” She smiles, like the prospect is terrifying but necessary.
“I think I want to show him the solarium first. The view from there is—well, you’ll see.
I’ve been busy while you were out working. ”
She pulls up a 3D modeling program where she’s been messing around with virtually staging and decorating our house in preparation for actually getting to decorate it once we have the keys.
Helena filters through the views until she finds the one with the solarium and holds the laptop up to me. “See? Mirrored décor and windchimes across the board. It’ll reflect light like a disco ball and brighten the whole space.”
There are also dozens of plants in this image and comfortable-looking couches that are a far cry from the abomination at our second rental flat here in Seamuse Village.
I smile softly. “This looks amazing, Helena. Send me these plans and I’ll make sure it’s done before Ranier gets here.”
She grins. “You always are the best at making things happen.”
I shrug. “Executing plans used to be my job.”
She pulls me in for a long kiss that steals my breath. It’s as though every kiss is our first one over and over again. “And now we protect each other.”
Moving day is one of those rituals no one enjoys but everyone remembers. Even when you hire people to do the heavy lifting, there’s always a moment—watching the truck idle in the drive, or carrying the last box over the threshold—where you realize there’s no going back.
We unload in two waves. Cole takes kitchen duty with Lucas, their arms loaded with crates of flour and spices and a pair of battered coffee mugs with the bakery’s name.
Helena flits between rooms, first trailing her fingers along the window glass, then darting off to inspect a shadow or chase a flash of color outside.
I keep to my assigned task: ensure the place is secure and then fade into the background.
It would be easier if anyone else in this pack understood the concept of “background.” Lucas leaves a line of muddy footprints up the main staircase and doesn’t notice.
Cole whistles as he fits the mugs into the glass-front cabinet, ignoring how each sharp note bounces off bare walls.
Even Helena, who was raised with servants trained to move in silence, can’t seem to avoid the little clatters and giggles that make a brand-new house sound instantly lived-in.
Somewhere around midafternoon, Lucas declares a lunch break and the kitchen erupts in a chaos of flour dust, honeyed bread, and roasted tomatoes.
We eat on the floor because the table hasn’t arrived yet.
Helena folds into a cross-legged pretzel and smiles at everyone, even when she’s got a mouthful of sandwich.
When she catches me looking, she tilts her head. “You’re overthinking.”
“I always overthink,” I remind her, but she’s right. I am cataloguing every exit and every window that still doesn’t have blinds. And this is after casing this place before we got the keys.
Some habits never die.
“Maybe you should try underthinking,” Lucas suggests. He’s sprawled on his back with his arms behind his head. His gaze is fixed on the ceiling.
Cole winks at me. “He means relax, boss. You’ve earned it.”
I give them all a half-smile. “I’ll consider it.”
Helena pushes her plate away and wipes her fingers on her thigh, heedless of crumbs. “Can we see the solarium now?”
Cole asks, “Why not?” at the same moment Lucas starts to get up, sandwich still in hand.
Helena leads the way down the hallway. She wears confidence like a second skin, but every so often, she glances back at me, seeking the comfort of being watched.
The solarium is brighter than it was when we first got access to the place. I’ve had the workers in here setting it up how Helena planned, but she’s been good about not sneaking early peeks before it’s been finished. Now, it is.
Mirrors. Everywhere.
Little disco balls in the corners. Mirrored windchimes flitting between hanging plants. The floor is white stone and cool underfoot, and the walls curve out over the cliff. It look like you could step through the glass and drop straight into the sea.
Helena stands in the center with her arms held wide. “This is my favorite room,” she announces.
“That’s obvious,” says Cole, moving in behind her. “You could host a garden party in here. Or…” He lets the sentence hang, glancing over at me.
I catch his drift. Lucas does too. He’s already prowling the perimeter, checking for sight lines and making a show of it. A man after my own heart. He presses his palms to the glass and gives me a look. “Anyone with a telescope can see right in.”
Helena grins. “Good.”
Except they can’t because these are special privacy windows made for this exact reason.
She unbuttons her shirt and lets it drop to the floor. The movement is so casual, it takes a beat before I process that she’s standing there in nothing but pale-blue underwear and the confidence of someone who owns every inch of the view.
Lucas whistles low. Cole’s eyes go wolfish, but he doesn’t move. He’s waiting for me, I realize. Waiting for the go-ahead.
In a pack with only alphas, there are no leaders.
Except, apparently, when you’ve known the omega longest.
I don’t hesitate. “Go on, then.”
Helena smiles and gestures for Lucas, who closes the gap in three strides and lifts her up, hands on her hips. Cole gets there a second later, his arms wrapping around her from behind. He kisses her throat. Helena tilts her head back, eyes fluttering shut as Cole’s teeth graze the line of her jaw.
I move to the edge of the group and just watch, letting myself enjoy the view. There’s something about seeing her like this—the center of gravity for three men who could snap her in half but would sooner die than hurt her.
Helena reaches for me. “Zane.”
I step closer. Her honey scent blooms across the solarium.
Lucas is already sliding her underwear down, his fingers slipping between her thighs as Cole keeps kissing up and along her shoulder.
Helena reaches for my face and pulls me down for a kiss.
I let her. She tastes like sunlight and salt—and desperation.
Her hands are all over me. I grab her wrists and pin them above her head as I walk her back against the glass. Then I step back for Lucas and Cole to ravish her while I watch.
Lucas drops to his knees and traces his tongue along the inside of her thigh. Helena’s knees buckle. I move to one side and help hold her up. She bites my forearm to keep from screaming. Cole moves in from the other side to capture one of her breasts with his mouth.
“Fuck, don’t stop,” Helena breathes.
Lucas grins up at her. “Yes, ma’am.”
He slips three fingers inside her. Helena arches so hard, her back cracks. Cole steadies her and murmurs filth into her ear while I keep her pinned.
Her whole body is shaking, but she keeps her eyes on mine. “Zane, please—”
I kiss her again, rougher this time, and slide my free hand down her stomach. Lucas moves aside so I can feel her—wet and hot, fluttering around my fingers. I push in alongside his fingers, and she moans into my mouth.
It’s a competition now: who can make her cum harder, faster, more completely.
Lucas sucks at her clit, tongue relentless.
Cole works at her breasts, kneading, rolling her nipples between his fingers.
I stroke her from the inside, curling just so, and Helena is caught in the middle, her cries bouncing off the glass.
When she cums, it’s like the world goes white throughout her climax. Her body convulses, but she never looks away from me.
“Again,” she demands when she can breathe.
We take turns, cycling her through every possible permutation throughout the rest of the night—her in Cole’s lap, her straddling Lucas’s thigh, and then her on her knees with me behind.
More positions after that as soon as we recover.
It’s nearly impossible to keep up with our omega’s need even when she’s not in heat.
The only thing I know for sure is that by sunrise, our house is thoroughly broken in.
We stay tangled together on the solarium floor after the last round and watch the sun rise over the ocean.
Helena sighs, happy and spent. “It’s perfect. We’re perfect.”
No one argues.
I wrap my arms tighter around her, and for the first time since I started this job, I don’t worry about what comes next.
We made it. We’re home.