Brittney
OMEGA BUZZ GOSSIP COLUMN
The bus rocks in its parking spot, engine off, everything else on pause except the low, angry hum under my skin. It’s my own stress, yeah, but also Saint’s, Fox’s, and Hunter’s, like they’re all up in my blood at once, simmering with fight or flight.
Colton and Cody wedge in close, one on each side. They press in shoulder-to-shoulder, body heat and twin scents making the air thick and familiar, and I let them. There’s a violence to the way I hug the pillow, something desperate, but neither one tries to pry me loose or make me talk.
“Are you sure you don’t know what’s going on?” I ask them for the thousandth time.
Cody presses a kiss to the top of my head. “I’m sorry, wild girl, we really don’t.”
Minutes crawl. I try to count the fairy lights overhead, but keep losing count after twenty. My throat is sore from my show earlier, but I don’t do anything about it.
Colton’s hand finds mine, fingers sliding into the gaps like he’s done it a thousand times. He’s all nervous energy, the buzz of his skin making the hair on my arms stand up, but his voice when he finally speaks is soft, a blanket thrown over barbed wire.
“Whatever’s happening, we’ll handle it together,” he says. Not even a question in it.
I nod, but the tremor that goes through me is anything but brave. “I know,” I say, voice too thin.
Cody doesn’t say anything, just leans in until his arm is flush against mine. I can feel the tension in his biceps with the effort it takes not to grip me too hard. The twins exchange glances over my head, a wordless volley of panic that I try to ignore but can’t.
My phone is silent, screen dark. I want to check it, but I can’t unclench my hands. Sweat pools under my palms, slicking the pillowcase, and I start counting again to have something to do with my brain.
The bond is a livewire. Saint’s side of it flares with anger, hot and icy at the same time.
I picture him with jaw locked and eyes murder-bright.
Fox is a softer ache, something like heartbreak but heavier, leaking sadness into my bloodstream.
Hunter’s signature is a shock of adrenaline, but under that is fear, sharp enough to cut.
Cody’s thumb rubs a slow circle on my arm. I focus on the pressure and the movement, letting it ground me.
We sit like that for what feels like an hour, until the hum of the pack bond spikes. Saint is sad but focused.
Colton’s phone buzzes. The sound is like a gunshot in the quiet. He fumbles it out, screen lighting up his face in blue and shadow.
“They’re coming back,” he says, voice tight.
The bus creaks with movement on the stairs, then the forward lounge door rattles. The twins stiffen, muscles coiling, and I brace for the worst.
My heart knocks double-time. I can’t breathe. I squeeze the pillow so hard my hands go numb, and when I let go, the tremor in my fingers is obvious and impossible to hide.
Cody leans in, whispering against my hair. “You’re okay,” he says. “We’re right here.”
It’s Saint first. He moves through the bus like a storm front, followed by Fox’s gentle shadow and then the live-wire, vibrating force that is Hunter.
They don’t even take off their jackets. The three of them just fill the narrow corridor, alpha energy so thick it warps the air.
I see Saint’s jaw, set so tight the muscle stands out, like he’s chewing glass, and I know something’s wrong.
Colton and Cody tense up, Colton bracing his hand against my shoulder, Cody going rigid beside me.
Saint clears his throat, voice low and harsh. “Someone was at the show tonight who wanted to talk to you.”
“Okay,” I say, not understanding.
“The man says he’s your uncle.”
I blink. The word doesn’t compute. “I don’t have an uncle,” I say, too fast. “At least none I’ve ever met.”
Hunter’s hands are fists, white-knuckled, but he says nothing. Fox edges forward, blue eyes locked on mine, and when he speaks, it’s so soft I almost don’t hear it over the thump of blood in my head.
“He says your parents are dead, Brittney.”
The world goes white. I can’t breathe. I can’t blink. I feel Cody’s arm go tight around my back, and Colton’s hand clamps down on my knee so hard it hurts, but I don’t move. I can’t.
Saint’s face is a mask. Hunter drops into a crouch, right in front of the nest, eyes not leaving my face. For once, he doesn’t smile. The twins squeeze closer, forming a wall of skin and heat and familiarity, but all I can feel is the ice in my bones.
I try to say something, anything, but all that comes out is a noise, halfway between a cough and a sob.
My vision blurs, but I don’t cry. I don’t.
I never wanted my parents. I never planned to go back, but hearing they’re gone, erased from the world, shreds something I didn’t know I was still holding onto.
The fairy lights overhead flicker. One goes out for good.
Saint watches me, unreadable. “You’re safe,” he says, but there’s no comfort in it.
Fox sits on the floor, knees drawn up, looking at me like I’m made of glass. “We’re here.”
Hunter reaches into the nest, takes my hand, and doesn’t let go. “Say something,” he pleads. “Yell, scream, punch me. Whatever you want.”
But I’m hollow. It’s like the words hit a wall, bounce back, then echo around my skull.
Finally, Colton whispers, “What if it’s a trap?”
For a second, the real world wobbles. Yes. That’s the story. That’s the twist. I latch onto it, desperate for something that isn’t final.
“What if it is?” I whisper. My voice shakes so hard I think it might splinter.
Saint nods, once. “It’s possible.”
The silence is a black hole, sucking all the oxygen out of the bus.
Cody holds me like he’s afraid I’ll slip away. Colton starts rocking me, a slow, unconscious rhythm, and Hunter’s thumb draws circles on my wrist, right over the bond mark there from Cody. They purr for me.
I don’t know how long we sit like that, all of us stuck in the gravity of the news. Eventually, Fox pulls a tissue from somewhere and dabs my cheek. I’m crying and I didn’t even notice.
Saint doesn’t move. He stands there, sentinel, arms crossed, as if daring the universe to try for me one more time.
I let myself lean into the pack, let their bodies make a fortress around the jagged, trembling shape of me.
I think of my parents and all the times they’ve hurt me. I hate them. So why does this still hurt? Sometimes feelings don’t make sense.
I shake off Colton’s hand, slide out from between the twins, and stand up on legs that barely remember how.
“I want to see him,” I say.
Fox moves in front of me, a gentle wall. “Songbird—”
“No.” My voice is wrecked, but clear. “I need to.”
Saint stares at me, like he’s reading me down to my soul, before nodding. “We sent him home tonight, but got his number. Let’s set something up for another night. Tonight, you need rest before your show tomorrow.”
I sit back down on the bed and agree.