42
Phoenix
I wasn’t sure what to make of their change in behavior at first.
For the longest time, the Alphas had been everywhere—hovering near me, checking in, always watching. It was like they didn’t know how to leave me alone, and I couldn’t blame them. After everything that had happened, I didn’t know how to be around them either. The tension was thick, the air between us suffocating. But then, without warning, something shifted.
They stopped pushing.
No more hovering, no more checking in every five minutes. I noticed it slowly at first—how they’d keep their distance even when I was in the same room, how they stopped asking if I needed anything unless I said it first. They even stopped touching me. That was the strangest part. Before, they’d always been tactile, always reaching out for some form of contact. A hand on my shoulder, a brush of fingers against my arm—small, seemingly innocent touches that would send me into a tailspin of confusion and anger.
Now, there was nothing. Just space. So much space that I almost didn’t know what to do with it.
It was Parker who first made the shift. He’d been the most present through my withdrawals, making sure I was okay even when I wasn’t. But suddenly, he began to pull back. Not in a cold way, but more like he was giving me room to breathe. Zeph followed suit, and Kage… Kage was the hardest to read. He was always the quiet one, but now it felt like he was actively avoiding being too close. They were all treating me with kid gloves, careful not to break whatever fragile peace we had managed to build over the past few days.
At first, I didn’t know whether to be relieved or insulted. Part of me wanted to lash out, to scream at them that this wasn’t enough, that they couldn’t just decide to give me space now after everything. After trying to get me booted off the tour. After dragging me away from my sister’s house.
But the other part of me… the part I hated to admit even existed… craved the comfort they had once given so easily.
I didn’t know how to reconcile the two. The part of me that longed to be held, to feel safe in their presence again, and the part that was terrified of trusting them. How could I? How could I trust them when I didn’t even trust myself anymore?
But no matter how hard I tried to shut it down, their absence left a hollow ache in my chest. And I hated it. I hated how much I missed the warmth of their hands, the sound of their voices, even their stupid protectiveness that had suffocated me before. Now, without it, I felt lost.
And they were careful. Too careful. Every move they made was deliberate, calculated to give me the space I apparently needed. No touching unless I initiated it. No forcing their presence on me. It was like they had set up strict boundaries for themselves, drawing lines they refused to cross.
Kage was the most obvious. He kept his distance, always near but never too close. I didn’t know whether to appreciate it or resent him for it. One night, when I could barely bring myself to leave my room, I opened the door to find a cup of my favorite tea sitting there. The steam was still rising from it, and there was no note, no sign of who had left it. But I knew it was Kage.
It was such a small gesture, one that shouldn’t have meant anything, but it did. It cracked something open inside me. A part of me wanted to pick up the tea and throw it against the wall, to rail against the kindness that I didn’t deserve. But I didn’t. I took the tea, closed my door, and sat in silence as I drank it.
The gestures continued. Small things. A fresh blanket left neatly folded at the end of my bed. A stack of my favorite books that I hadn’t seen in months. Meals delivered with no expectation that I’d eat them with everyone.
Every gesture chipped away at the emotional walls I had put up, but I was still guarded. Still too afraid to let them all the way back in. I didn’t know if I could. The fear of being hurt again ran too deep, and I wasn’t sure I’d survive if I let myself trust them only to be broken again.
I hated myself for being so weak. For craving their attention and their comfort even when I knew I shouldn’t. I had been through hell, and I should have been stronger. I should have been able to stand on my own two feet without relying on anyone. But the truth was, I was scared. More scared than I’d ever admit to them, or even to myself.
At night, when the house was quiet, I would lie awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering what the hell I was doing. Wondering why I couldn’t just let them back in, why I couldn’t let go of the past. I wanted to forgive them, wanted to trust that they had my best interests at heart, but there was always that nagging voice in the back of my head reminding me of how things had gone before. How quickly they had turned on me, how easily they had decided I wasn’t worth the trouble.
The worst part was, I wasn’t even sure if I blamed them for it anymore. Maybe I deserved it. Maybe I had always been too much—too much of a mess, too much of a burden. They had their own lives, their own responsibilities, and I had just… gotten in the way.
But still, the tea, the blanket, the books—those little things—were slowly working their way into my heart. Whether I wanted them to or not, they were making me feel something again. Something that wasn’t just numbness or pain.
One night, as I curled up under the blanket they’d left for me, I caught myself wondering if maybe, just maybe, it would be okay to let them back in. Just a little. To test the waters, see if they really meant it this time.
But then, just as quickly as the thought came, I shoved it away. I wasn’t ready. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
For now, I would take the tea, the blankets, the gestures of care, and let them chip away at my walls. But trust? That would take much longer.
◆◆◆
I wrapped the thick blanket tighter around myself, trying to shield my body from the chilly breeze. The counseling session earlier had been intense—exhausting, really. I hadn’t expected it to get that deep, but we dove straight into the miscommunication after my heat. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to confront all of it yet. But talking about the incident brought everything to the surface: the betrayal, the hurt, and the loneliness that followed.
I needed air, space. The walls of the Omega suite were closing in on me, suffocating me with their silence, and the last thing I wanted was to stay inside and drown in my thoughts. So, I threw on the blanket and stepped out, desperate for a break from everything. My boots crunched against the cold ground as I wandered aimlessly through the property, my breath visible in the chilly air.
The pack’s land was beautiful, I had to give them that. Even in my state of emotional turmoil, I could see the calm serenity of the place. There were tall trees, their branches bare from the season, and a few patches of snow that hadn’t quite melted yet. The air was crisp, biting at my cheeks as I wandered further from the house, away from anyone who might try to engage me.
I eventually found a small pond tucked away near the edge of the property, almost hidden by the trees. There was a bench beside it, weathered but sturdy, and I slowly lowered myself onto it, pulling the blanket tighter around me. The water was still, almost frozen at the edges, and for a moment, I let myself get lost in the calmness of the scene.
Sitting there, I tried to make sense of the mess in my head. My time with the pack had been nothing short of chaotic, and now… now I didn’t know what to feel. They had come for me at my sister’s, brought me here to this Omega suite, the nicest room I had ever stayed in, as if that would make up for everything. But it didn’t. The hurt lingered, seeping into my bones, making it impossible to forget how they had tried to get me booted from the tour. How they hadn’t trusted me, hadn’t believed me. After everything that happened… how could I trust them again?
A part of me wanted to. Desperately. I craved that connection, the sense of belonging I had once felt, even if it was fleeting. But another part of me—the part that had been burned before—held me back. Could I really let them back in after all of this? After everything?
As I stared at a lone duck gliding across the water, my phone vibrated against the seat beside me. I didn’t have to look to know who it was. My sister, Dove, had been relentless in her calls, checking in on me every chance she got. I appreciated it—more than I’d ever admit to her—but at the same time, it reminded me of the mess I’d gotten myself into.
I picked up the phone, bracing myself for another one of her fierce lectures.
“Phoenix?”
Her voice was a mix of concern and barely contained rage. “You say the word, and I’ll be on the next plane. To hell with what that psycho Alpha says. I’ll drag you back to Atlanta myself if I have to.”
I let out a soft sigh. Dove had always been the overprotective one, the kind of sister who wouldn’t think twice about fighting anyone who messed with me. It was comforting, but at the same time, it only added to the storm of emotions swirling inside me.
“Dove…”
I started, but she cut me off.
“No, seriously. I’m not kidding, Phoenix. I’ve got a damn gun. Don’t test me on this.”
I laughed softly despite myself, the image of my sister storming through the airport with a gun tucked into her waistband somehow not entirely out of the realm of possibility. She was fierce like that, always ready to go to war for the people she loved.
“Thank you, Dove,”
I said, my voice softer now, touched by the way she always had my back. “I mean it. But… I think the help they’re giving me here is actually working. I can’t believe I’m saying that, but it’s true.”
There was a pause on her end, and I could almost picture her scowling in disappointment. “So, you’re telling me I don’t get to use my gun?”
I shook my head, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Sorry, sis. No shoot-outs this time.”
Dove groaned dramatically. “Fine. But you better believe if anything changes, I’ll be on a flight so fast you won’t even have time to blink.”
“I know,”
I said, my chest tightening at the thought of how far she was willing to go for me. “And Wren’s still coming next week, right?”
“Yeah, she’s got her flight booked. But if you need me before then, don’t hesitate to call. You know I’ll drop everything for you, Phoenix. Everything.”
“I know,”
I whispered, the weight of her love and loyalty hitting me in a way that made my throat tighten. “I’ll let you know if anything changes.”
“You better.”
Her tone softened for the first time, the fire in her voice fading into something warmer. “And be careful with those guys. If they pull any more crap, just say the word, and I’ll personally castrate them. Got it?”
“I got it,”
I said, trying not to laugh at how serious she sounded.
Before we hung up, she added, “Love you, sis.”
As the line went dead, I let the phone fall into my lap, staring at it for a long moment. It was comforting, knowing Dove was always just a phone call away. Even though she couldn’t be here right now, her fierce love and determination were like a protective shield around me, keeping me grounded when everything else felt uncertain.
But despite her words, I couldn’t bring myself to call her for help, even though I knew she’d come in a heartbeat. Something inside me told me that I needed to face this on my own, to figure out how to heal without running back to the safety of my old life.
I sighed, running a hand through my hair, letting the thoughts swirl in my mind as I stared out at the still pond. I didn’t know how long I had been sitting there when I heard footsteps approaching from behind. I stiffened for a moment, instinctively pulling the blanket tighter around me, but when I turned, I saw it wasn’t one of the Alphas.
It was a young woman with striking blue eyes and light blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail. She was bundled up in a thick coat, her cheeks flushed from the cold, and she hesitated for a second before walking over to the bench. I blinked, trying to remember her name. I hadn’t really left the Omega suite since I arrived, so I hadn’t spent any time around her.
“Hey,”
she greeted softly. “Mind if I sit?”
I shook my head, scooting over a little to make space. She sat down beside me, leaving enough distance that I didn’t feel crowded, and we sat in silence for a few minutes. It was surprisingly comfortable, the quiet between us. She didn’t try to push me into conversation, which I appreciated. I needed time to gather myself.
After a while, she turned to me and said, “I’m Charlotte, by the way. Zeph’s sister.”
I nodded slowly, the name clicking into place. I had heard about her, but this was the first time we’d actually met. “Phoenix,”
I replied, even though I knew she already knew that.
“I know you’ve been… going through a lot,”
she started carefully, her tone soft but direct. “And I’m not here to try and explain away what my brother’s pack did. I just wanted to check on you. See how you’re doing.”
I appreciated her honesty, but her words still caught me off guard. How was I doing? That was a loaded question if I’d ever heard one. I shrugged, unsure of what to say. “I’m… trying,”
I finally said, though even that felt like an understatement.
Charlotte nodded, as if she understood the weight of my words. “It’s not easy, I know.”
She paused, glancing at the pond for a moment before speaking again. “I’ve been watching my brother and his pack for a while now. They’ve made some mistakes, especially when it comes to you. But… they care about you, Phoenix. I can tell that much.”
I bit my lip, not knowing how to respond to that. Caring about someone didn’t erase what had happened. It didn’t erase the hurt.
Seeing my hesitation, Charlotte continued, her voice a little softer. “Zeph… he’s complicated when it comes to Omegas. He’s got a lot of baggage. Our mother…”
She paused, eyes flickering to the side as if the memory weighed heavy. “She wasn’t the best role model. She left us when we were still kids, picked a wealthier pack and walked away like we didn’t matter. We never even knew our dad.”
I blinked, surprised by the sharp pang of sympathy that tugged at my chest. I hadn’t known any of this.
“Kage’s mum was the one who stepped in,”
Charlotte went on quietly. “She became our guardian, looked after us like we were her own. But she got sick. And when she passed, I was thirteen. Zeph was barely legal himself, but he stepped up. He became my legal guardian. Took on everything while still trying to make the band work.”
I swallowed hard, a lump forming in my throat. I couldn’t imagine being that young and carrying that kind of weight.
“There’s a nanny who stays with me while they’re on tour,”
she added with a small shrug, as if to brush off the seriousness of it. “She’s great, but Zeph still calls every night. Checks in, makes sure I’ve eaten, done my homework, all that stuff. He drives me crazy sometimes, but… he’s never stopped looking out for me.”
I frowned, the pieces of Zeph’s cold exterior shifting in my mind. I hadn’t known about their past, and hearing it now added a new layer to the puzzle that was him.
Charlotte sighed. “I’m not excusing what he did. What any of them did. But I think… I think his actions were driven more by fear than anything else. Fear of getting too close, of losing someone again.”
She met my eyes, her gaze steady but kind. “He’s got a lot to work through, but I think he’s trying. They all are.”
Her words hit harder than I expected, and I didn’t know what to do with them. I had been so wrapped up in my own pain that I hadn’t considered what had been driving their actions. Fear. It made sense, but it didn’t make it any easier to deal with.
“I don’t know if I can forgive them,”
I whispered, more to myself than to her.
Charlotte nodded, not pushing me. “That’s okay. You don’t have to decide that right now. But maybe… just maybe, you can give them a chance to show you that they’re trying. That they want to do better.”
I swallowed hard, my emotions swirling inside me. I wasn’t ready to forgive, but maybe I could take that first step. Maybe.
For now, I would sit with the words Charlotte had given me and try to find some clarity in the mess that was my heart.