33. Blake’s Escalation To Acquire The Present #5
"We were trying—" Cole begins, then stops, running his bandaged hand through his hair. "Fuck. We were trying not to scare you."
"I'm already scared," I admit, the fight draining out of me as quickly as it came. "Have been since the day I married Blake. At least when I know what's happening, I can prepare. Can fight back."
Austin returns to the couch, settling Luna against his chest. She grabs for my hand with perfect baby timing, and I let her tiny fingers wrap around mine. The touch grounds me, reminds me what we're really fighting for.
"No more secrets," River says firmly. "No more protecting you from hard truths. You're pack, you deserve full disclosure."
"All of us together," Cole agrees, meeting my eyes with something like understanding. "No more split decisions."
Chief Reyes nods approvingly. "Good. Unity is your best defense. That and the law." She stands, radiating authority despite her smaller stature. "Deputy Martinez will finish the perimeter check, then maintain presence until the morning shift. Tomorrow, we'll have officers on rotation."
"Thank you," I manage, meaning it despite the fear still coursing through my veins.
She pauses at the door, looking back at our ragtag pack clustered in the living room. "We failed Celeste Torres. That's on us, on the system that should have protected her. But we learn. We adapt. And we don't fail twice."
Wendolyn hugs me goodbye, whispering fierce promises about the whole town having my back. Dr. Sylvie's card burns in my pocket, a lifeline I didn't know I needed. They leave together, Chief Reyes already on her radio coordinating increased patrols.
We watch through the window as their vehicles disappear down the drive, leaving us alone with the weight of everything we've learned. Deputy Martinez's flashlight continues its steady sweep, a small beacon against the pressing darkness.
"She never told us about the calls either," Austin says suddenly, Luna drowsing against his shoulder. "Celeste. Found out after she died that her ex had been calling for weeks. Escalating. Making specific threats she never shared."
"She was trying to protect us," River adds quietly. "Said we'd done enough, that she could handle it."
The parallel hits too close, and I sink back onto the couch. These strong, capable men who've already lost one omega to pride and secrets and misplaced protection. No wonder they hover. No wonder they track every threat with obsessive detail.
"We can't change what happened to her," I say finally. "But we can learn from it. All of us."
Cole settles beside me, careful not to crowd but close enough that I can feel his warmth. "Together," he agrees. "No more isolation. No more?—"
Headlights sweep across the window, cutting off his words. We all tense, tracking the slow approach of a dark sedan. It pauses at our gate—longer than curiosity would warrant, not long enough to be obviously surveilling. The engine idles, a predatory purr in the quiet night.
Mavi's already at his laptop, fingers flying. "Can't get a clear plate from this angle. But the make and model..."
"It's Blake's car," I whisper, ice flooding my veins. "Or one just like it."
The sedan sits for another ten seconds—a clear message that he knows we're watching, that he wants us to know he's there. Then it continues past, disappearing into the darkness like it was never there at all.
"Martinez is moving to intercept," Cole reports, watching his phone's security feed. "But they'll be long gone."
"He's showing us he can get close," River interprets grimly. "That our protections don't matter."
"Or he's testing response times," Mavi counters. "Seeing how fast law enforcement reacts."
Either way, the message is clear: Blake Harrison isn't done with us. Not by a long shot.
Luna stirs in her sleep, making soft distressed sounds like even unconscious she senses the danger circling our home. Austin rocks her gently, humming something low and soothing, but his eyes track the windows like a sentry.
"We should take shifts tonight," Cole decides. "Two awake, two resting, rotate every three hours."
No one argues. The time for pretending we're safe has passed, swept away by black sedans and old ghosts and the promise of violence lurking just beyond our property line.
I think about Celeste, another omega who sat in this room feeling protected, making plans for a future that would never come.
Did she have moments like this, surrounded by these same men, believing love could overcome obsession?
The thought chills me more than Blake's surveillance ever could.
Because sometimes love isn't enough. Sometimes the monsters win. And sometimes the only victory is in learning from the ashes of those who came before.
"I won't be her," I whisper, not sure if I'm making a promise or a prayer. "I won't be another ghost in this house."
"No," Cole agrees fiercely, pulling me against his side. "You won't."
Outside, Deputy Martinez's flashlight continues its steady arc, a small defiance against the gathering dark. But we all know the truth—the real danger isn't out there in the shadows.
It's in the patterns we're doomed to repeat, unless we find the strength to break them.