Chapter 28 | Dante
Dante
T he bed Bennett had designed for our future Omega could have housed a small village, its massive frame stretching across most of the master bedroom like an altar built for worship and protection.
Custom-built from solid oak with reinforced joints that could support our entire pack plus the children who'd claimed sanctuary in its embrace.
The children had arranged themselves around Heather’s sleeping form like protective satellites, their small bodies instinctively seeking the warmth and security that came from pack closeness.
Loubie Lou curled against Heather's left side, her rescued bunny clutched between them like a bridge connecting their dreams. Tomas had claimed the space by her right shoulder, his blanket finally released from its death grip but still within easy reach.
Dylan and Denson flanked the foot of the bed, their breathing finally steady after hours of smoke-damaged coughing.
Even in sleep, Heather remained the center of our makeshift family's gravity, her strawberry and cream scent gradually returning to something closer to normal as her body processed the trauma and began the long work of healing.
Her face had finally relaxed from the mask of grief and determination she'd worn since Angus had carried her from the burning house, allowing me to see traces of the woman who'd captured all our hearts with her fierce independence and hidden vulnerability.
Bennett sat on the edge of the massive mattress, his phone pressed to his ear as he spoke in low tones with contractors who specialized in emergency construction.
Even in the catastrophe’s aftermath, he was already planning renovations that would transform this mansion into a proper home for seven traumatized children and the woman who'd claimed them all.
"Individual bedrooms for each child," he was saying, his free hand stroking Heather's hair with gentle repetition that seemed to soothe them both. "Safety glass in all windows, reinforced doors, security systems that won't make them feel like prisoners but will keep them absolutely safe."
I occupied the chair beside the bed, holding her hand and humming a faint lullaby that seemed to emerge from somewhere deep in my chest. It was one my mother used to sing to me, a sweet tune that offered both protection and love.
The sound seemed to settle into the very walls of the room, creating an atmosphere of safety that eased even my own nerves.
From where I was sitting, I could see the entire room— every window, every doorway, every potential threat that might dare to approach our sanctuary.
Even though I was beyond raging about what had happened to my family, I kept my breathing steady and controlled for the sake of the children, who needed to feel safe rather than sensing the violence that simmered just beneath my calm exterior.
They'd seen enough terror for several lifetimes; what they needed now was the absolute certainty that their guardians were strong enough to keep them safe.
But beneath the tender care we were all providing, I could feel something darker building among my pack brothers.
The same fury that burned in my chest was reflected in the set of Bennett's jaw, in Angus’s clenched fists, and in the clinical precision that had characterized Cole's handling of Heather's mom’s body.
We were all thinking the same thoughts, making the same predictions, reaching the same inevitable conclusions about what needed to happen next.
The soft sound of the bedroom door opening announced Cole's return from his grim errands. He moved with the quiet precision that characterized everything he did, his toffee scent carrying undertones of finality that suggested important arrangements had been completed.
"Everything's handled," he said quietly, settling into the remaining chair with movements that spoke of exhaustion carefully controlled.
"She will be honored properly. The funeral home understands our needs, and the arrangements are both dignified and true to her life story.
.. at least what she had told me when I looked after her each evening.
" His head lowered, and he kicked off his shoes.
Heather stirred slightly at the sound of his voice, but didn't wake. It was probably the first real rest she'd managed in days. Her fingers twitched against the blanket, as if reaching for something that wasn't there, and my grip on her hand tightened in response.
Cole's gaze found mine across the room, and I saw something shift in his expression. His clinical mask gave way to something harder, more personal. "The medical examiner confirmed cause of death as smoke inhalation," he said. "She didn't suffer. The medication kept her unconscious throughout."
The information should have been comforting, but it only fed the fire burning in my chest. Heather’s mom had died peacefully, but she'd died because Jude and his pack had set a fire specifically designed to kill everyone in that house.
The fact that she'd been spared suffering didn't change the reality that her death had been murder, calculated and cold.
Bennett's phone call concluded with sharp efficiency, his attention shifting fully to our group as he processed Cole's words.
"It's now or never, lads," Cole said, his voice carrying a quiet finality that preceded irreversible action. "Every hour we wait gives them more time to cover their tracks, more time to hurt Susie and more time to think they've won."
The words hung in the air between us, heavy with implications that went far beyond simple justice.
This wasn't about legal proceedings or official channels; no, this was about the kind of retribution that left no room for mercy or second chances.
The men who'd burned our Omega’s home, murdered her mom, and stolen Susie had crossed lines that couldn't be uncrossed, had earned consequences that would be delivered without mercy.
I felt my free hand curl into a fist that could crush steel, every muscle in my massive frame coiling with anticipation of violence that would finally, properly, address the wrongs done to our family.
Around the bed, I could sense similar tension building in my pack brothers.
The careful control that had sustained us through hours of crisis was giving way to something darker and more primal.
“I’ve had a ‘friend’ watch them. They’re downtown in the warehouse district,” Cole said, his lips pursed into a sly smile.
“Well, what are we waiting for!” I said, trying not to yell the words.
Bennett stood up. “Gear up men, we’re going hunting!”