Chapter 20 #3
They probably all can—Alphas with their enhanced senses, trained to detect weakness and vulnerability the way predators detect prey.
But I didn't give them fear.
Didn't give the asshole who threw the volleyball fear.
Didn't give anyone in this room the satisfaction of knowing they got to me.
"Fear doesn't help," I say quietly. "I learned that a long time ago. Being afraid doesn't stop bad things from happening. It just makes you easier to hurt."
Something flickers in Jett's expression.
Recognition, maybe.
Understanding.
His hand rises again—this time to my cheek, palm warm against my skin, thumb tracing across my cheekbone in a gesture that feels more intimate than it should.
"I'll be with the others," he says, voice low enough that only I can hear. "Don't leave once class is done. We need to regroup as a pack."
As a pack.
The words send warmth flooding through my chest.
We need to regroup as a pack.
Like I'm part of them now.
Like I belong.
I nod, not trusting my voice.
His hand drops.
He turns and walks away—fluid, silent, moving through the gymnasium like a shadow that's temporarily taken human form. The crowd parts around him automatically, students instinctively creating distance from something their hindbrain recognizes as dangerous.
I watch him go.
Watch him rejoin Sage and Blaze and Kai, the four of them forming a unit that radiates power and menace and the particular kind of unity that only comes from genuine connection.
My pack, I think, and the thought feels strange.
Foreign.
Wonderful.
The silence in the gymnasium finally breaks.
Voices start up again—cautious at first, then building as everyone processes what just happened. The gossip will be legendary, I'm sure. The Lawson pack defending their new Omega. The retribution delivered without hesitation. The statement made without words:
Touch her and suffer.
She's ours now.
Ours.
The Omegas around me are staring.
Not with the usual hostility—this is something different. Something that looks almost like... awe? Or maybe confusion. Like they can't quite reconcile what they just witnessed with their assumptions about who I am.
Protecting her, one of them whispers, not quite quietly enough. They're actually protecting her.
The crazy bitch, another responds. Why would anyone—
Doesn't matter why, a third voice cuts in. Did you see what happened to Marcus? He's still on the ground.
This is so unfair, someone else complains. She doesn't deserve—
I stop listening.
The words don't matter.
What matters is the warmth still lingering on my cheek where Jett touched me. The way my heart is racing. The unfamiliar sensation of being defended, being valued, being claimed in a way that's protective rather than possessive.
"Heart rate abnormally elevated."
Ro's voice cuts through my thoughts, clinical and matter-of-fact.
The announcement is loud.
Loud enough that several nearby Omegas hear it, their expressions shifting from confusion to something that looks almost like vindication.
See? She's affected. She's not as cold as she pretends.
I feel heat rise to my cheeks.
Blushing.
Actually blushing, like some romance novel heroine instead of a killer with a body count.
But instead of embarrassment, what I feel is... amusement.
A smirk curves my lips as I look across the gymnasium, finding my pack.
My pack.
They're standing together near the Alpha section—four men who should be my enemies but somehow aren't. Four Alphas who just demonstrated, publicly and violently, that messing with me has consequences.
Sage catches my eye and winks.
Blaze grins, sharp and satisfied.
Jett nods once, barely perceptible.
And Kai—Kai is watching me with an expression I can't quite read. Something calculating, maybe. Or something closer to approval.
They protected me.
Without hesitation.
Without being asked.
Without expecting anything in return.
The realization settles into my chest like a weight.
Heavy.
Grounding.
For three years, I've survived alone. Fought alone. Bled alone. Built walls around myself so high that no one could reach me, because reaching meant vulnerability and vulnerability meant death.
But these men just reached through anyway.
Just reached out and caught a volleyball and drew blood and made a statement to everyone watching:
She's one of us now.
And we take care of our own.
I don't know what to do with that.
Don't know how to process the emotions churning in my chest—gratitude and fear and hope and the desperate, aching need to believe that this is real.
It's temporary, I remind myself.
The alliance ends when Kai's father is dealt with.
Then we're enemies again.
But even as I think it, the words feel less certain than they did before.
Less final.
Because enemies don't protect each other.
Enemies don't catch volleyballs and draw blood and touch your cheek like you're something precious.
Enemies don't make your heart race with a single look across a crowded gymnasium.
Maybe, I think, watching them.
Maybe this isn't what I thought it was.
Maybe this is something else.
Something more.
The thought is terrifying.
Wonderful.
And as the PA instructor finally arrives to start the class, forcing everyone back into their assigned positions, I find myself smiling.
Not the manic grin I use as armor.
Not the sharp expression I deploy when I want people to back off.
Just... a smile.
Small.
Private.
The expression of someone who's starting to realize that maybe—just maybe—she's stumbled into something worth keeping.
One-two-three-four.
My toe taps against the gymnasium floor.
One-two-three-four.
The counting helps.
The rhythm grounds me.
But for the first time in years, I'm not counting to suppress panic or contain chaos.
I'm counting because I'm trying to slow down enough to appreciate this moment.
This feeling.
This unexpected gift of belonging.
My eyes find the pack across the gymnasium—four men standing together, watching over me, ready to defend me against anyone foolish enough to try again.
Maybe this is something I can work with.