9. Vayda
Istand my ground in the narrow hallway leading to the living room, keeping my chin tipped up. Every word of my ultimatum is true. If they force a choice between new Alphas and the mate I have left, I'll pick Brendan.
I'll pick him every time.
The three Alphas crowd the outdated kitchen, making the space feel like a shoebox.
Kel stands on the scuffed linoleum, clutching his dark hoodie and boots in one hand. Sweat coats his bare skin, highlighting the dark compass rose tattooed on his neck. His chest rises and falls with rapid, angry breaths.
Wally stands next to him, holding his boots and shirt. His broad chest moves with even, controlled breaths. A calm, unbothered expression settles on his face as his dark brown eyes lock onto me, tracking my every move.
Leaning against the doorframe, Simon grips his boots. He pulled his gray t-shirt over his head before chasing me out of the shed, but his copper hair still sticks up in every direction, messy from my fingers gripping it on the mattress. He watches me with a steady stare.
Near the fridge, Vinny keeps his hands raised in a placating gesture. The nurse looks out of place in his blue scrubs under the weight of the Alpha presence saturating the room.
Brendan makes a low humming noise in the living room behind me, grating on my frayed nerves.
I keep my back to the hallway, shielding him from their eyes.
His scent of rain and driftwood floats from the living room, crashing into the wall of sea breeze, bergamot, leather, and amber rolling off the hockey players.
Wally steps forward, breaking the tense silence. "We aren't asking you to pick. We aren't going to make you choose between us and him."
I gesture to the medical supplies stacked on the living room shelves behind me. "You don't understand what this takes. You don't know what his care requires. Alphas are territorial. You'll never accept another Alpha in your space. You'll want him gone."
Kel takes a step forward. "You don't know us. We share a house. We share the ice. We spent the last three days sharing you. He's no threat to you or us."
Crossing my arms over my chest, I dig my fingernails into the sleeves of my oversized shirt. "You say that now. You're running on the adrenaline of a spontaneous heat. It'll fade. You'll look around and realize this is a nightmare for your careers and lives."
Simon shakes his head. "We know what we want."
I point a shaking finger at my messy red hair.
"You're all too young for this kind of baggage.
Look at my roots. They're silver-gray. I'm graying.
I'm a decade older than you. When I bonded with my pack right out of college, you three were teenagers.
You were in high school. You have no idea what you're signing up for. "
Kel scowls, dropping his boots onto the floorboards. The dull thud echoes off the linoleum. "We don't care about a number. We're over twenty-one. We're adults."
I sweep my hand toward the peeling cabinets and the faded wallpaper.
"You'll care when the media finds out. Look at this house.
Look at me. You're the faces of the Reapers franchise.
You've got a pristine public image to maintain for your sponsors.
I'm a broken, older Omega living in a fading house.
I play full-time nurse to a disabled Alpha.
You think your PR team is going to love that headline? The tabloids will tear you apart."
Simon shrugs, his lean shoulders lifting and dropping in an easy motion. "Let them. People can think whatever they want. It changes nothing. It doesn't change the fact that you belong with us."
I point my thumb behind me toward the living room. "I belong right here. With Brendan. He stays with me, and his routine stays exactly how it is."
Ignoring my hostility, Wally takes a step closer, keeping his free hand open and visible at his side.
"We can adjust to Brendan. We're staying, sweetheart.
We can figure out a routine that works for everyone.
We have the money and the resources to get him the best care.
You just have to give us the chance to prove it. "
I shake my head, backing up a step. "No. I don't. Find someone else. There has to be another Omega out there for you. A real match. One without all this trauma."
Kel glares at me, his dark eyes burning with intensity. "There isn't. There's only you."
The certainty in his tone makes my stomach twist in a painful knot.
I can't do this. I can't let them in. I can't survive losing Alphas again, and I refuse to drag them into my daily mess.
They're rich, famous athletes with their entire lives ahead of them.
They don't need to be shackled to a tragedy.
My hands drop to my sides, my shoulders slumping forward as the adrenaline from the last few days crashes. A hollow, dragging exhaustion settles over me, a weight I've carried for years. "Please. Just go. Please."
Wally stares at me for a long minute with a flexing jaw. He looks past me, his dark eyes tracking the doorway leading to the living room before focusing back on my face.
"We'll give you some space for now. You need to rest and recover. But this isn't the last you'll hear from us. We're coming back."
Wally's hand lands on Kel's bare shoulder, steering the larger Alpha toward the back door.
Kel looks like he wants to rip the kitchen cabinets right off the walls, but he complies as Wally guides him out.
Simon lingers for a second, his green eyes locking onto mine and leaving a burn in their wake before he follows them out into the cool spring air.
The back door clicks shut. The overwhelming sea breeze scent begins to fade, allowing the clinical smell of cleaning supplies to creep back in.
I let out a shaky breath and turn to Vinny. He looks uncomfortable standing by the refrigerator.
I rub my temples to ward off the headache pounding behind my eyes. "Vinny, I'm sorry you had to witness that. Give me ten minutes before we do the shift hand-off. I need a shower."
Vinny offers a sympathetic look. "Take your time, Vayda. You're going through a lot right now. I can hang out with Bren a little longer. He's fine."
Nodding, I walk past him and head straight for the guest bathroom. My eyes stay trained on the scuffed floorboards, keeping my gaze away from the living room entrance. Looking at Brendan right now is impossible.
The lock clicks on the bathroom door. A chill lingers in the air from a draft passing through the poorly sealed window above the toilet, but the cold is the least of my concerns. I just need to get the smell of them off my skin.
Stripping off the oversized t-shirt and yoga pants, I catch sight of myself in the small vanity mirror over the sink. I look like a wreck.
My pale skin is covered in evidence, with fading fingerprints wrapped around my hips and waist. My lips are swollen and bruised from Wally's desperate kisses. I look like an Omega who just spent three days surrendering to three demanding Alphas.
Turning away from the mirror, I reach into the shower stall and crank the hot water dial all the way up. The pipes groan, steam filling the small enclosure before I step inside.
The scalding water hits my back, stinging the scratches and bruises. Grabbing a rough washcloth and a bar of cheap soap from the wire rack, I lather the cloth until it overflows with white foam and start scrubbing.
Frantic strokes trace my neck, trying to wash away the phantom feeling of Kel's lips against my pulse point. I scrub my stomach to erase the memory of Simon's hands, then move down my thighs to obliterate the reminder of Wally filling me up.
It's useless. The smell of bergamot, leather, amber, and sea breeze is baked into my pores. They knotted me repeatedly for three straight days, forcing my body to accept them and rewrite my internal chemistry to recognize them as my mates. The soap does nothing to change that reality.
Suffocating guilt crashes over me, hitting so hard my knees buckle. Sliding down the wet wall of the shower stall, I hit the floor while the hot water beats down, plastering my messy red hair to my face.
Pulling my knees to my chest, I wrap my arms around my legs as a broken sob tears from my throat, echoing in the cramped bathroom.
I'm a traitor, consumed by the reality of giving in to my instincts and sleeping with those Alphas. The moment the fever took over, I surrendered, opening my legs and begging them to fix me. I let them replace my Alphas.
Squeezing my eyes shut, the faces of my dead mates flash to the front of my mind.
Emmett, with his warm cocoa skin, easy smile, and bright eyes. His chipped front tooth always peeked out when he laughed at my terrible jokes, his scent of old books and fresh rain wrapping around me.
Hale, with his rough, calloused hands and the dark stubble covering his jawline. After a long day in his shop, he smelled like pine needles, rain, and sawdust, always pulling me into his lap the second he walked through the front door.
They died in that crash, bleeding out on the asphalt and leaving me and Brendan alone in a world not designed for broken Alphas.
I promised to stay loyal to their memory, keeping other Alphas away. Spending years suffering through the agonizing cramps and wasting sickness of bond rejection, I wore the pain like a badge of honor. It was my punishment for surviving when they died.
Now, the guilt tells me I treated them like they were nothing. I treated Brendan like he was nothing, letting three hockey players walk into my backyard and erase years of loyalty just because they smelled right.
I rest my forehead against the cool tile, offering a broken whisper to the empty shower stall. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."
I cry until my throat burns and my chest aches. The hot water eventually turns lukewarm, then freezing cold as the old heater runs out, leaving me shivering on the wet tile for a long time to let the ice numb my skin.