18. Storm
Chapter 18
Storm
"K eep your eyes down. Don't speak unless directly addressed. If my father’s ask you a question, answer as briefly as possible. No sarcasm, no attitude, no challenges." Jonathan paces back and forth in front of me, his voice clipped and precise. "You are to be seen and not heard."
I'm sprawled across the couch, deliberately taking up as much space as possible just to annoy him. We've been at this for over an hour now. Jonathan drilling ‘proper omega behavior’ into me for tomorrow's dinner with his fathers.
"And if they say something completely awful?" I ask, examining my nails with exaggerated casualness. "Do I still keep my eyes down like a good little omega?"
Jonathan stops pacing to glare at me. "Yes."
"What if they suggest something like, I don't know, bringing back omega breeding farms?" I press, watching his jaw tighten. "Still quiet?"
"Those don't exist anymore," he snaps.
"But they did," I counter. "And from what I've gathered about your father’s, they probably miss the good old days."
Jonathan pinches the bridge of his nose, a gesture I've come to recognize as his 'Storm is giving me a headache' move.
"This isn't a debate. This is about survival," he says, his voice lower now. "My father’s aren't men you want to antagonize."
"I know how to handle assholes," I say, sitting up straighter. "I've been doing it my whole life."
"Not like my father’s, you haven't," Jonathan insists. "You have no idea what they're capable of."
Reed emerges from the hallway, looking as stern and brooding as ever. He pauses when he sees us, his stormy eyes lingering on me a beat too long. I resist the urge to shrink back, memories of last night flashing through my mind. His body pressed against mine, the growl in my ear, the iron control that kept him from giving in to what we both wanted in that moment of weakness.
"She giving you trouble?" Reed asks Jonathan, as if I'm not sitting right here.
"Does she ever not?" Jonathan replies dryly.
"I'm sitting right here, assholes," I snap.
"We're aware," Reed says, his voice deceptively calm. "I can smell your defiance from across the room."
I flip him off, which only makes his lips twitch in what might be the ghost of a smirk. Smug bastard.
Alexander strolls in from the kitchen, carrying a mug that smells like herbal tea. "How's the etiquette lesson going?" he asks, dropping into an armchair with graceful ease.
"Fantastic," I say with mock enthusiasm. "I'm learning all about how to be a proper doormat."
Alexander laughs, earning a glare from Jonathan. "You'll have to forgive my brother," he tells me. "He gets tense before the father’s visits."
"I don't need forgiveness. I need cooperation," Jonathan says, turning back to me. "Tomorrow night will determine whether my father’s decide to take a more active role in managing this situation. Trust me when I say you don't want that."
I sink back into the couch, feeling a flicker of genuine anxiety beneath my bravado. I've seen Jonathan's father’s exactly once, and that was enough to know they're dangerous in a way most people aren't. Cold, calculating, powerful men who view the world as something to be controlled.
"Fine," I concede with a sigh. "Eyes down, mouth shut, pretend I have no thoughts in my pretty little omega head. I get it."
Jonathan's shoulders relax slightly. "Thank you."
"But you should know," I add, unable to help myself, "this goes against everything I believe in."
"Noted," he says, the word clipped but not unkind.
Frankie enters from the direction of his room, hesitating when he sees all of us gathered. He's been more relaxed since our dinner last night, but still moves with caution around the alphas. Our eyes meet, and he gives me a small smile that instantly makes me feel better. At least I'm not alone in this madness.
Reed's phone chimes with an alert, drawing all of our attention. He pulls it from his pocket, glances at the screen, and lets out a growl so vicious it makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
"He fucking found us," Reed snarls, his knuckles white around his phone.
Jonathan's eyebrow rises. "Already? How did?—"
"Fucking Holloway," Reed cuts him off, his voice tight with barely controlled rage. "He's in the lobby of the building. Right now."
My heart stops, then restarts with a thundering beat. Rook . Rook is here. In this building. So close I could touch him if they'd let me.
"How the hell did he find this place?" Jonathan demands, but I barely hear him over the roaring in my ears.
"Does it matter?" Reed retorts. "He's here. Security just notified me."
I leap to my feet, my entire body electric with hope. "Let him up," I demand, my voice shaking with emotion. "Let him up right now."
All three alphas turn to look at me, their expressions ranging from pity to frustration to cold fury.
"That's not going to happen," Reed grits out through clenched teeth.
"Please," I say. "Please let him up. I need to see him."
Jonathan shakes his head. "You know how this would look. He can't be here, especially not with our fathers visiting tomorrow. If they find out?—"
"I don't care what they think!" I cry, desperation making my voice crack. "He can stay hidden in my room. I won't tell your fathers. I'll be perfect at dinner, I promise. I'll be whatever omega you want me to be. Just let me see him. Please, Jonathan."
The words pour out of me, raw and pleading. I hate begging, hate the vulnerability of it, but for Rook, I'll do anything.
"Stay in your room?" Reed repeats, a low growl building in his chest. "Absolutely not."
Jonathan and Alexander both join in, all three alphas growling in unison, their combined scents thick with territorial aggression that fills the room like a physical presence.
The sound hits me like a wave, triggering every omega instinct I've fought so hard to suppress. My knees go weak, and before I realize what I'm doing, I reach for Frankie's hand, gripping it tightly as I shrink into myself.
The alphas' eyes lock onto our joined hands, and something dangerous flashes across Reed's face. Fear spikes through me. Not for myself, but for Frankie. I let go immediately, scrambling backward until my back hits the wall, putting as much distance between us as possible.
No one moves. The tension in the room is suffocating, the alpha pheromones so thick I can barely breathe through them. My omega instincts are screaming at me to submit, to bare my neck, to beg forgiveness for daring to touch a beta in front of them.
I hate this feeling. Hate how small and helpless they can make me feel with just their presence. I wrap my arms around myself, trying to stop the trembling that's overtaken my body.
Jonathan's expression shifts as he watches me, something like regret flashing across his face. He exchanges a look with Alexander, some silent communication passing between the twins.
"Let him up," Jonathan says suddenly, his voice cutting through the tension.
Reed's head whips around. "You can't be serious?—"
"Let. Him. Up," Alexander repeats Jonathan’s words, his voice firmer than I've ever heard it. He gestures toward me with a nod of his head. "She needs him. Look at her."
Reed's stormy eyes find me, and for a brief moment, I see something flicker there. His jaw tightens, but after a moment, he gives a sharp nod and strides toward the elevator without another word.
The tension in the room eases slightly with his departure, but the lingering scent of angry alphas still makes my skin prickle. I'm frozen in place, afraid to move, afraid to hope that they're actually going to let Rook come up.
"Sit down, Storm," Jonathan says, gesturing toward the couch. It's not quite an alpha command, but it's close enough to make my omega instincts respond automatically. I move to the couch on shaky legs.
Frankie follows, sitting beside me but keeping a careful distance. I want to reach for him again, to anchor myself with his steadying presence, but I'm afraid of setting the alphas off again.
Jonathan sighs, running a hand through his dark hair. "I don't care if you touch the beta," he says, surprising me. "I'm not Reed. Just don't do it in front of my fathers, that's all I ask. You can hold his hand. That's allowed."
I want to snap back that I don't care what's "allowed," that I don't need his permission for anything. But I bite my tongue, knowing that in a few moments, I'm going to see Rook, and that's the only thing that matters right now.
Cautiously, I reach for Frankie's hand again. He takes it, giving a gentle squeeze that calms some of the storm raging inside me. Jonathan watches, his green eyes fixed on our joined hands with an intensity I don't understand.
"Thank you," I manage to say, the words feeling strange in my mouth.
Jonathan nods once, then turns away, moving to stand by the windows with his back to us. Alexander takes up position near the elevator, his posture deceptively relaxed, though I can sense the tension running through him.
The seconds stretch into minutes, each one feeling like an eternity. My heart is beating so hard I'm sure everyone in the room can hear it. Frankie's thumb traces small circles on the back of my hand, a silent comfort I desperately need.
Finally, the elevator pings, and I'm on my feet before I even realize I've moved.
The doors slide open to reveal Reed and Rook, standing as far apart as the small space allows, glaring at each other with barely contained hostility. Reed's hand is visibly gripping Rook's upper arm, his knuckles white with the force of it.
But I barely register any of that, because there he is. Rook. My Rook.
He's wearing a black hoodie that's seen better days, worn jeans, and scuffed boots—exactly the Rook I remember, though somehow he looks older, harder. His dark eyes flash with fury as he glowers at Reed, his jaw set in the stubborn line I know so well.
"Rook," I manage to choke out. His name a prayer on my lips.
His head snaps toward me, and the transformation is instant. The anger melts away, replaced by such raw emotion that it steals my breath. He tears his arm from Reed's grip with a force that makes the alpha growl a warning.
"Storm," he breathes, and then he's moving, and I'm moving. I let go of Frankie's hand as I run toward him.
Reed says something sharp and commanding, but I don't hear the words, don't care about anything except reaching Rook. The world narrows to just him, just us, everything else falling away.
We collide in the middle of the room, and I launch myself into his arms without hesitation. My legs wrap around his waist as his arms encircle me, holding me so tight it's almost painful, but I never want him to let go. His scent—strawberries and cream—surrounds me, familiar and perfect and home.
"I found you," he whispers against my hair, his voice rough with emotion. "I've been looking everywhere."
I can't speak, can only bury my face in his neck as tears spill down my cheeks. Four years apart, of not knowing if I'd ever see him again. It all crashes over me in a wave that leaves me trembling.
"I never gave up," he says fiercely, his arms tightening around me. "I'll never give up on you, Storm. I love you. I'll never let you go again. I should have run away with you that day. I’m so sorry."
I sob against him, unable to form words, clinging to him like he might disappear if I loosen my grip even slightly. He's real. He's here. After everything, after all this time, Rook found me. He never gave up.
"I love you," I finally manage between sobs. "Rook, I love you so much."
For a moment, the world shrinks to just us, his heartbeat against mine, his scent wrapped around me like a shield. Then, still in Rook's arms, I look over his shoulder at the alphas standing like statues across the room.
My eyes find Reed's, his stormy gaze unreadable as he watches us.
"Thank you," I say, the words catching in my throat, surprised at my own sincerity. "For letting him up."
Reed stares at me, genuine shock flashing across his face at my gratitude. He holds my gaze for a long moment before giving a single, sharp nod. Without a word, he turns and leaves the room, his shoulders rigid with tension.
I watch him go, puzzled by his reaction. I don't know why my thanks affected him that way, don't understand the storm I glimpsed behind his eyes.
But honestly, I don't care. Not right now.
Because Rook is here, solid and real in my arms. His hands are in my hair, his scent surrounding me, his heart beating against mine. Four years of separation and now this moment that feels like coming home.
For the first time since Choosing Day, since the moment Jonathan threw me over his shoulder and carried me away from freedom, I feel something like hope.
Rook is here. And now that we're together again, I know we'll find a way out of this mess.
We have to.