Chapter four #3
But even as I say it, I feel the ground shifting beneath me. The solid foundation I've been building since I walked into that penthouse, fragile, new, built on nothing but scent and instinct and the desperate hope that maybe, this time, I might actually belong, is cracking.
And I don't know how to stop it.
We stay at the park for another thirty minutes. I push Lily on the swing, help her down the slide, and catch her when she stumbles. She's a resilient kid, she falls, she gets up, and she tries again. There's a lesson in there somewhere, but I'm too raw to find it.
My phone buzzes. A text.
Unknown Number:Hope the park was informative. - S
Serena. She got my number from the agency. Of course she did. I block the number without responding.
But I don't delete the text. I stare at it, reading it over and over, feeling the words hope the park was informative twist in my gut like a knife. She wanted me to know she's watching. She wanted me to know she's still there, still connected, still a threat.
They shared me.
They didn't even knot me.
You're just a placeholder.
I pick Lily up and head for the car.
The drive back to the penthouse is quiet. Lily falls asleep in the car seat, her head lolling to the side, curls sticking to her cheeks. I glance at her in the rearview mirror and feel my chest tighten.
They need someone to fill the omega-shaped hole in that child's life.
Is that what I am? A shape? A function? A warm body filling a cold space?
No. No, I'm more than that. I'm a person. I have a name, a history, a life. I'm not a placeholder for anyone.
But the doubt is there now, planted like a seed, and I can feel it growing.
We arrive back at the penthouse at 10:45. The elevator opens directly into the foyer, and the moment the doors slide apart, the scent hits me. Pine. Smoke. Cedar.
All three of them. Thick, concentrated, and waiting. They're home.
I step out of the elevator with Lily on my hip, and the sound of male voices drifts from the living room. Low, urgent, arguing about something I can't quite make out. Then silence when they hear the elevator.
JD appears in the hallway first. His suit jacket is off, tie loosened, and there's a tension in his shoulders that wasn't there this morning. His dark eyes find me, then Lily, and something in his expression, relief? Concern? Flickers before he smooths it away.
"How was the park?" he asks.
"Fine." My voice comes out flatter than I intended. "Lily had fun. She's ready for a nap."
He nods. His nostrils flare, scenting me, reading me, and I watch his brow furrow. He can smell the shift. The fear. The doubt. The sour edge that Serena's words left on my scent.
But he doesn't ask.
Knox appears behind him, and his reaction is different. He doesn't just scent me, he looks at me, those green eyes searching my face with an intensity that makes me want to either confess everything or run away.
"Hey," he says. "You okay?"
"I'm fine."
"You don't smell fine."
"Well, I am."
He exchanges a glance with JD. The silent communication of men who've known each other for decades.
"Willow…" Knox starts.
"I said I'm fine." My voice sharpens. I adjust Lily on my hip. "I'm going to put her down for a nap. Excuse me."
I walk past them. All three, Deklan has appeared now, leaning in the living room doorway, watching me with those dark, unreadable eyes, and I feel their gazes on me like physical weight. On my back. On my neck. On the curve of my hip where Knox's hand rested this morning.
I don't look back.
I take Lily to her room, change her diaper, and lay her in her crib. She grabs my hand before I can pull away, her small fingers wrapping around my index finger with surprising strength.
"Willow stay?" she murmurs, already half-asleep.
Something breaks in my chest.
"Yeah, baby," I whisper. "Willow stays."
I sit in the rocking chair beside her crib and watch her fall asleep. Her breathing evens out. Her grip on my finger loosens. And in the quiet, with nothing but the sound of her small, steady breaths, Serena's words echo through my mind.
You're not a person to them. You're a function.
A warm body to fill the gap.
They get bored.
You are just convenient.
I press my hand over my mouth to muffle the sound that escapes. It's not quite a sob, more like the whimper of something small and wounded, cornered and too tired to fight.
I came here with nothing. A duffel bag and a desperate hope. I thought, stupidly, naively, that being chosen meant being wanted. That the scent match meant more than biology. That the way JD looked at me, the way Knox touched me, the way Deklan almost let me in, it meant something real.
But what if it doesn't?
What if I'm just Serena 2.0? A new model, a better match, a more efficient way to fill the hole that Mara's death left in this family?
What if I'm not Willow to them? What if I'm just omega?
The tears come quietly and I let them. In the crib, Lily sleeps. In the hallway, three men breathe and wait and watch.
And I sit in the dark, heart cracking open, wondering if I just made the biggest mistake of my life by walking into that elevator.