Chapter 45
TESSA
THE VAULT…
Hovering in the lounge doorway, I watched Ryder, Dixon, Mac and Tray stride onto stage.
I wasn’t sure why, but the way they moved in a straight line, evenly spaced, put me in mind of this classic album cover. Four men crossing Abbey Road. A funeral procession, apparently. That wasn’t my guys though. My guys looked like… life. A brand-new life. No more death.
As my Alphas warmed up their instruments, my eyes kept roving over them from head to toe.
The way they looked tonight, I could almost, almost, imagine that we’d all traveled back in time.
These were the guys from those posters I’d put up at the tender age of twelve.
These were the guys I’d laid in bed at night dreaming about.
Being here with them was still so surreal.
I caught Ryder’s eye, and he gave me a wide, guileless smile.
The others were seemingly already locked in and ready to go.
“We’ve got a treat for you tonight,” Ryder spoke into the microphone, voice almost seductive.
“A brand-new song debuted here tonight as a thank you for your contributions to the Southern California Coastal Preservation Fund! Your donations will go directly to protecting the East Pacific Green Turtles!”
Clapping followed, a few hoots, and then Tray opened the song, slowly building on the drums. After a while, the other guys joined. The song came together, piece by piece, and it began casting its spell over the crowd.
I’d read magazine articles—granted they were mostly in fluffy teen Omega fashion magazines—that claimed scent was the strongest tie to memory. From the moment I heard my first Oblivion Haze song, I knew that was wrong.
Music floods a room.
It seeps into walls and carpeting, and it clings to clothing and hair.
The right lyrics become embedded in our brains, and we suffer days on end fighting an earworm that won’t die. So not smell, but hearing. Not scent, but music.
Of course… now I could also admit that the right scents, from the right Alphas, could also be just as memorable.
Barely into their first song, and my pack’s music was already saturating The Vault and sinking beneath my skin.
The song wasn't just music—it was their collective energy, four Alphas pouring their souls out to their fans.
I watched, just as entranced as the audience, as Ryder commanded the stage.
His voice was more mature than it had been when Oblivion Haze started, yet it still had that raw, exposed quality that made every person in the room feel like he was singing just for them.
When the chorus hit, goosebumps scattered across my skin.
The lyrics of “Sinner’s Kiss” still came as a surprise, even though I’d heard the song several times already.
Ryder had really felt like I was beyond his reach, like he’d ruin me if he got the chance.
Part of him was glad when I’d disappeared that night, even if he had desperately searched for me after.
We’d both been lost souls after Seattle.
It had taken so long to be found again. Moisture built in my eyes and before I could bite back the tears, they began to fall.
I swiped away the first few, the back of my hand coming away streaked with black liner.
I looked at my Alphas. God, they were amazing.
My heart jolted when my gaze landed on Mac.
He was staring back at me. So much longing.
Questions in his expression. I had to turn away from him.
The intensity of it made my chest tighten.
I was on the verge of sobbing. Someone in the crowd would notice if I stayed in view.
Walking away from the entrance, I moved towards the more private back of the room stopping just short of the coffee table with its bowl of snacks.
Lord, why had those stupid lyrics hit me so hard? As if they were brand new. They’d landed like darts thrown by an expert hand, square in the heart. Bullseye. Target decimated. My eyes burned. I choked back the wail that wanted to escape.
I felt on the cusp of nineteen again, the world at my feet.
Concert tickets for my birthday; all I wanted.
My parents laughing, and finally giving in.
Watching them roll their suitcases out of the mansion, disappearing into chauffeured sedans that would whisk them to the private jet.
From there, they’d fly to Switzerland. What would I do if I woke up in my room, on that day, with them all alive again?
Could I scare them into staying? If I couldn’t, would I join them?
The dam didn’t burst like it had several times since moving in with my Alphas.
Instead, the dam gates lifted just enough to allow my overflowing feelings out.
I hugged myself, letting the emotions level out.
“Sinner’s Kiss” ended and there was a gap in the set.
It was enough of a distraction, that unexpected pause, that I found myself stable again.
I cocked my head, listening intently, and my heart jumped when I heard a piano.
Mac was playing. Mac was playing the piano.
I felt elated. So proud of him. For the first time, I realized I was helping my Alphas as much as they were helping me.
I wasn’t just an Omega matched to tame them, not just a cure for ferality and breeding machine, me being with them meant more.
I moved to the vintage sofa and sat down.
Leaning back, I closed my eyes. Mac played so beautifully.
I hated how his childhood had stolen that joy for so long.
The other’s joined. Ryder didn’t sing any lyrics.
They just offered up the “Ghost of Us” in a way that would no doubt leave an eternal mark on this venue and the patrons.
Fresh tears, shed for a very different reason, skimmed down my cheeks.
I don't know when I’d started talking to myself. Had I been whispering for a while? Or had my thoughts just felt like I’d spoken them aloud? Either way, my lips were moving, and my words were loud enough that they couldn’t be dismissed as imaginary.
“I miss you," I said to the dust motes and the patterned carpet and the spirits of everyone I'd ever loved.
"I miss all of you. I still wake up sometimes and forget you're gone. I want to argue with my idiot brothers. I want to hold my little sister after she’s born.
I want to hear Mom laugh. I want Dad to teach me how to change a tire again, because honestly, I spaced out the first time.
And I'm so sorry I stayed behind. I'm so sorry I got to live, and you didn't. But—”
I hesitated, because I'd never said this part out loud. It was always the silent truth that hit me after every panicked memory.
"I'm glad, too. I'm glad I survived, because sometimes, for like two seconds, I'm happy. Like really, actually happy. And I don't know what to do with that. It scares the shit out of me. I feel ashamed and selfish."
More tears. How did I have any tears left?
The walls around me and floor beneath my feet vibrated with the music. Oblivion Haze wasn't just playing. They were destroying. There was no way the audience would forget tonight. I knew I wouldn’t.
“I love you,” was the last thing I said to the past. I wiped my face clean with the billowing sleeve of my top.
I smiled softly to myself, eyes still closed.
For the next several songs, I just sat there existing.
Nothing else. And I told myself that was enough.
Just to exist. Just to have survived. I knew I wanted more in the future.
I didn’t want to just be an Omega, matched for marking and mating.
Music had been my first love. And then I’d blamed it for ruining my life.
I knew it hadn’t. That was just a child’s need to blame something tangible.
I wanted music to be part of me again, beyond standing on the sidelines as my men basked in the spotlight.
What could a woman who’d disappeared from society soon after graduating high school do in the music industry? I didn’t know. Yet.
Then, in a lull between tracks, Ryder’s voice boomed. “This is our last one tonight.”
The crowd booed affectionately.
The guys laughed. Dammit, I loved their laughs. Each so unique.
Ryder continued as the audience quieted. "You know what it is. Oblivion Haze always finishes the way it started—angry and loud as hell!"
The opening to "Requiem for Rage" was intense, with Tray pounding the skins like he was trying to literally bring down the building.
When the guitars came in, the chandelier above me shook.
I knew every note and lyric of this song, but I'd never heard them play it so ferociously.
They were attacking their hardest song as if tomorrow depended on it.
I wasn’t the only one looking to the future. Looking to make the most out of every second.
Suddenly, I didn’t want to keep sitting.
I wanted… No, I needed to see them playing.
I had to see their faces; had to see what they were feeling.
I stood up, ready to march back across the room and watch my guys.
I'd survived. I'd made it here. That meant something. We’d fight for our future together, as a pack.
Just as I took my first step, a stranger stumbled into the room.
He wore a burgundy jacket, and there was a large green stain down the white button up shirt beneath.
Obviously very drunk, he was talking to himself with one eye shut and the other darting around trying to land on something.
Though, even if he did pick something to focus on, I doubt he’d actually be able to see it clearly.
I couldn’t smell him beneath the stench of Absinthe.
Didn’t know if he was Alpha, Omega, Beta.
I just knew he shouldn’t be in the room with me.
A lot of good beefing up security had done.
I backed away instinctively.