Chapter 29
JESS
The elevator ride down feels like falling in reverse since all the adrenaline that kept me sharp in that conference room is draining away, leaving nothing but the buzz of fluorescent lights and the hum of descending machinery.
My reflection in the polished chrome doors is someone I barely recognize: same dress, same carefully neutral expression, but my eyes look hollowed out. Scraped clean.
Rowan’s thumb traces circles on the inside of my wrist. I don’t think he realizes he’s doing it.
“They asked us if we wanted alternatives,” Cassian says into the silence, voice rough enough that I know he’s been holding it in. “Other Omegas. Better matches.”
The word better comes out like an accusation.
My stomach twists. “What did you say?”
“That they could go fuck themselves,” Cassian mutters. “Just, you know. Professionally.”
Eli’s mouth quirks, but there’s no humor in it. “We declined their offer.”
“And they still wouldn’t say which Nexus guard tasered you.” Rowan’s hands are clenched tight. “Only that they’re ‘handling it’.”
“I’ve already checked every channel I can; whoever is involved, they’ve kept it off the record.” Eli shakes his head. “It’ll come out somehow. Office gossip and someone will slip.”
The elevator doors slide open into the lobby, where the valet already has our car waiting.
Outside, the cold air hits me, and I didn’t know how overheated I was until now; my skin feels too tight, my pulse still hammering in my throat like I’m waiting for something else to go wrong.
Rowan’s hand moves to the small of my back as we walk, and I have to lock my knees to keep from leaning into him so hard I forget how to stand on my own.
Eli takes the keys from the valet with a thank-you and opens the rear door for me. The gesture is automatic, protective.
I slide into the backseat, the leather cool against my legs. Rowan follows, settling on one side of me; Cassian on the other. Their presence closes around me like bookends—steady, solid, unspoken reassurance that I’m not walking out of that building alone.
Eli gets behind the wheel. His hands are steady, his shoulders tight, eyes flicking between the road and the mirrors like he can out-watch any threat that might be trailing us.
The city lights smear across the windows as we pull away from Nexus. Rowan’s knee brushes mine; Cassian’s hand rests loosely over my thigh, a quiet grounding that says more than words ever could.
For a second, I wish we were driving back to the cabin at Brightwater Bay—the salt air, the sound of waves under the windows, the illusion that the world stopped at the shoreline.
But this is home now…with them, and tucked against the trees, near enough to the city to feel its pulse, far enough to breathe.
By the time we pull into the driveway, the silence in the car has calcified into something almost comfortable. Almost.
The house looks the same as when we left this evening, with the porch light on, Eli’s stubborn little herb garden by the door, but something about it feels different now.
Marked. Like Nexus reached through that conference room and left fingerprints on everything in my life that matters.
Inside, Rowan doesn’t bother taking off his jacket before he’s at the security panel by the door, fingers flying over the keypad. The soft beeps echo through the entryway, each one driving a new lock into place.
“Upgrading the system,” he says without looking at me. “Should’ve done it weeks ago.”
Cassian’s already in the hall closet, dragging out a toolbox that looks more like an arsenal. “Reinforcing the window latches. The ones upstairs are shit—someone could jimmy them open with a credit card.”
I stand in the doorway, still in my heels, watching them transform our home into a fortress. The air smells like wood polish and metal—familiar, ours…but my throat still feels tight.
“You’re turning us into a panic room,” I say, and my voice comes out smaller than I intend.
“We’re making sure you’re safe.” Rowan’s tone leaves no room for argument, but when he finally glances over, his eyes are asking a question he won’t say out loud. Did they hurt you?
Not in any way that leaves marks.
Eli appears from the kitchen with a glass of water I didn’t ask for and sets it on the side table. “You should eat something.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You didn’t eat at the gala either.” It isn’t an accusation, just an observation, but it lands like one anyway.
I pick up the glass because it gives my hands something to do. The ice clinks against the sides, a small percussion of anxiety I can’t quite swallow down.
Rowan finishes with the keypad and turns to face me fully. His dress shirt is wrinkled now, tie gone, sleeves rolled to his elbows. There’s a smudge of grease on his forearm. He looks like he’s been building barricades, and I guess he has been.
“You don’t have to keep it together for us,” he says quietly.
The words hit somewhere soft and already bruised. “Neither do you.”
His mouth twitches—not quite a smile, but close. He crosses the room in three strides and stops when he’s right in front of me, close enough that the heat of him engulfs me, see the tension in his jaw, the careful control in the way he’s holding himself back.
He studies my face like he’s reading between the lines, looking for all the things I’m not saying. And God, there are so many. Blake’s name sits on my tongue like poison I can’t spit out.
“They tried to separate us in the evaluations,” Cassian calls from the hallway, drill in hand. “Make us doubt each other. Standard psych-out bullshit.”
Eli leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. “They asked Rowan if he found it difficult to share authority with a Beta.” His tone is dry, but I catch the flash of something darker underneath.
My hands curl into fists around the cool glass. “What did you say?”
“That authority isn’t something you hoard.” Rowan’s eyes don’t leave mine. “It’s something you trust.”
The words settle in my chest, warm and solid, and for a heartbeat the tightness in my throat eases.
Then I hear her voice again—Mr. Callighan has expressed interest—and my stomach lurches.
I should tell them. I should say it right now: Blake wants me. Nexus is already measuring me for a different pack.
But if I do, Rowan will go cold first, then lethal.
Cassian turn feral and try to kill Blake.
Eli will start calculating odds and outcomes, and they’ll all decide I need more protection, more surveillance, more locks on more doors until this house stops feeling like home and starts feeling like the conference room—sterile and safe and suffocating.
So I swallow everything and take a sip of water instead, letting the cold shock down my throat like I can freeze the words in place.
“I’m okay.” The lie sits heavy in my chest, and I’m terrified he can see it on my face—that I’m not okay, that we might not be okay if Blake and Nexus has their way. And then, because it feels too thin: “We’re okay.”
Rowan’s hand comes up to cup my jaw, thumb brushing my cheekbone. “You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true.”
“Then why do you look like you’re still waiting for them to come back?”
The question cracks something open. He’s right. I’m standing here, surrounded by people who chose me, and I still feel like I’m under fluorescent lights.
“I hate that they think they own us.” My voice cracks on the last word, and I hate that too—hate that they’ve gotten under my skin enough to make me feel this small, this powerless. “That they get to decide if we’re allowed to stay together. Like we’re some experiment they’re running.”
Rowan’s other hand finds my hip, anchoring me. “They don’t own anything. Not you. Not us.”
“They think they do.”
“Then they’re wrong.”
It should sound arrogant. It doesn’t. It sounds like a promise—like a line he’s already decided he’ll cross if he has to.
I lean forward, resting my forehead against his chest, and let myself take one full breath. He smells like sandalwood and rain beneath the faint trace of detergent and metal—steady, clean, and cut through with adrenaline and the bone-deep weariness of a man who refuses to fall apart.
“I don’t want to talk about Nexus anymore,” I say into his shirt. “Not tonight.”
His hand slides up into my hair, fingers gentle at the back of my neck. “Then we won’t.”
Behind us, I hear Cassian set the drill down more quietly than usual. Eli’s footsteps retreat toward the kitchen, giving us space we didn’t ask for but need anyway.
I pull back just enough to look up at Rowan. His expression is that familiar blend of control and contained worry, but his eyes are softer now. Open.
“What do you need?” he asks.
The question shouldn’t feel so dangerous, but it does. Because what I need and what I’ve ever been allowed to ask for have rarely been the same thing.
But tonight, after being treated like a file to be updated and reassigned, I am so, so done with asking permission and playing it safe.
This is the part where people leave. Where I get too close and they disappear. My sister. My mother, in every way that counts. Everyone I’ve ever—
But I’m so tired of being afraid.
My fingers curl into the collar of his shirt. “You.”
The word lands between us, simple and absolute, and I feel it like stepping off a cliff.
Rowan’s eyes darken, his hand tightening just slightly on the back of my neck. “Jess…”
“I’m sure.” I cut him off before he can twist this into a lecture on timing and trauma. “And I don’t want you to hold back because you’re scared I’ll break. I’m not going to break.”
His jaw flexes, something hot and raw behind his eyes. He’s been holding the line with me for days. Weeks. The thought that he might be afraid of hurting me should make me feel fragile. Instead, it makes me feel…chosen.