Chapter 29
I wake up warm.
Not the dull, impersonal warmth of a room with the heat turned up too high, but the kind that wraps around me in layers—soft, living warmth that breathes and shifts and hums faintly beneath my skin.
For a long moment, I don't open my eyes.
I just lie there, half-asleep, floating in the unfamiliar comfort of it.
The bed beneath me isn't mine.
That realization comes slowly, drifting in around the edges of consciousness.
The mattress is softer than the one in my room, the sheets smoother, the blanket heavier.
And it's certainly more comfortable than my chair.
Someone is pressed along my back, solid and steady, an arm draped loosely around my waist like it belongs there.
I stretch instinctively, toes flexing beneath the blanket, shoulders rolling as I arch slightly into the warmth behind me. A small, content sound slips out of my throat before I can stop it.
My body answers itself.
My omega instincts stir—gentle, pleased, stretching like a cat in sunlight. I preen without thinking, rubbing my cheek against the pillow, inhaling deeply. The air smells faintly of soap and fabric softener and something warmer beneath that, muted by blockers but still unmistakably him.
Finn.
The name drifts through my mind lazily, unthreatening.
I shift again, careful and slow, turning just enough to tuck myself more securely into the curve of his body. His arm tightens slightly around me in response, a quiet reflex, and I feel a soft exhale against the back of my neck.
It's peaceful.
For a heartbeat, that's all there is.
Then memories crash back in.
The zoo footage. Marie's heat. Ragon's roar. The promise to "talk later." The door closing behind them.
I gasp.
My eyes fly open, heart slamming into my ribs as panic surges up fast and sharp. I jerk away from Finn, scrambling upright, the blanket sliding off me and pooling at my waist.
"Oh gods—"
I'm not in my room.
I'm not in Ragon's house.
I didn't go home.
Cold terror floods my system, drowning out the warmth, the comfort, the safety I woke up in. My breath comes in short, ragged bursts as I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stand too fast, dizziness flashing through my vision.
Ragon is going to be furious.
The thought hits me with absolute certainty. He told me to stay in the house. He told me he'd check on me. And instead, I ran. I crossed the lawn. I fell asleep in another pack's home like it was nothing.
My stomach twists violently.
He's going to punish me.
The fear is automatic, ingrained. My hands shake as I stagger toward the door, not even bothering to grab my hoodie.
I yank the door open and bolt straight into a solid chest.
Strong hands come up immediately, gripping my arms to keep me from bouncing off entirely.
"Vee—hey. Whoa. Easy."
Alex.
I barely register him beyond the fact that he's there, blocking my escape. I try to pull back, panic roaring in my ears.
"I have to go," I babble, words tumbling over each other. "I didn't go home, I—I shouldn't be here, Ragon's going to—he's going to be so angry, he's going to punish me again—"
Alex growls.
It's low and sharp and absolutely not directed at me.
"What did you just say?"
His hands tighten—not painfully, but firmly—anchoring me in place. I shake my head, breath hitching, tears burning behind my eyes.
"He'll punish me again. I left and I wasn't supposed to and he's going to think I ran away and he'll—"
"No," Alex says, voice firm, cutting cleanly through my spiral. "That's not happening."
I laugh hysterically, the sound broken. "You can't stop it. He's my alpha."
Alex's eyes darken.
"He won't touch you."
I stare at him, disbelieving. "You can't promise that."
"I can," he says, without hesitation.
Behind me, I hear movement.
Finn's voice, soft but urgent. "Vee?"
I turn just as Finn steps into the hallway, concern written all over his face. He's fully dressed now, hair still a little mussed from sleep, eyes sharp.
He moves closer, careful not to crowd me.
"It's okay. You're safe. You didn't do anything wrong."
I shake my head violently. "I disobeyed him. I didn't mean to stay away so long. I just—I was so warm and comfy—I guess I fell asleep."
"You left a situation that was hurting you," Finn corrects gently.
"That doesn't matter. He told me to stay."
Footsteps pad down the hall behind Finn.
Malcolm steps out of his room, shirtless, wearing only pajama bottoms slung low on his hips. He stops short when he sees me, eyes immediately softening.
My gaze drops without permission.
His chest is broad and solid, muscles clearly defined even at rest. My omega instincts react instantly, sharp and unexpected, a pulse of want flickering through my body.
I want to touch him.
The realization hits me so hard it makes my stomach lurch.
I squeeze my hands into fists, nails biting into my palms. This isn't supposed to be happening. My instincts have been muted for weeks.
Why are they awake now?
"Oh no," I whisper, mortified. "I'm—something's wrong with me."
Malcolm's brow furrows. "Vee?"
"I shouldn't be feeling this. I'm going to be in so much trouble."
The panic overwhelms me completely. My body folds inward, knees buckling slightly as a small, broken sound slips out of my throat.
Alex catches me easily, pulling me against his chest.
His arms wrap around me, firm and secure, and he starts purring.
It's deep and strong, vibrating through me like a steady anchor, and my omega instincts surge toward it instantly, desperate and relieved. I cling to him without thinking, pressing my face into his shirt as the sound wraps around my nervous system.
"It's okay," he murmurs over the purr. "You're okay."
Finn moves closer, hands gentle as they smooth over my hair and back. Malcolm steps in on my other side, his warmth radiating, presence solid and protective.
The three of them surround me without trapping me.
I whine softly, the sound slipping out before I can stop it.
Alex's purr deepens in response.
"There you go. Let it out."
I bury myself against him, shaking as the fear drains out in uneven waves. Something inside me shifts—uncoiling, waking up fully—and I realize my suppression feels thinner.
Like it's breaking through instead of crushing everything flat.
I feel like an omega again.
The realization is both comforting and terrifying.
I cling harder, my body seeking the steady reassurance of Alex’s chest, his heartbeat, his purr. Finn’s hand remains in my hair, slow and careful. Malcolm’s presence looms close, solid as a wall.
“Good,” Alex murmurs when my breathing finally starts to slow. “That’s it.”
I sniff, exhausted and embarrassed, and pull back just enough to look at them. My face feels hot and tight with tears.
“I didn’t go home,” I say weakly.
Finn nods. “We know.”
Alex shifts slightly, still holding me. “Do you want to check your phone?”
The suggestion makes my stomach clench again, but I nod. I go back for my hoodie, fingers shaking so badly I fumble twice before managing to fish my phone from the pocket.
No missed calls.
No texts.
Nothing.
The screen is empty.
The realization settles slowly, painfully.
They don’t even know I’m gone.
Or they know—and they don’t care.
My shoulders slump, the last of my panic draining into something quieter and heavier. Sadness spreads through me, dull and aching.
Alex notices immediately. He tips my chin up gently with one finger, forcing me to meet his eyes.
“What is it?”
I shrug weakly. “My phone’s empty.”
He waits.
“They probably don’t even care that I’m gone,” I whisper. “They have Marie. She’s more important.”
The words come out flat, stripped of drama, and that somehow makes them worse.
Malcolm makes a sound under his breath—low, angry. He steps forward and pulls me out of Alex’s arms and into his bare chest without hesitation.
The contact steals my breath.
His skin is warm, firm, and his scent—still blocked but stronger than yesterday—hits me immediately. It curls around my senses, rich and grounding and frustratingly just out of reach.
I inhale deeply before I can stop myself.
My omega instincts light up like someone flipped a switch.
I whine again, frustrated this time, my fingers curling into his sides. I want more. I want to understand his scent, to sink into it properly, but the blockers keep it just beyond my grasp.
Malcolm exhales slowly, holding me steady. “Sorry,” he murmurs. “I think I was late taking my blocker.”
“I can almost smell it,” I complain softly, miserable. “Not enough. Why do you take blockers anyway?”
Finn watches us with concern and something else—calculation, maybe. “Breakfast,” he says suddenly, distracting everyone from my question. “She needs to eat.”
Malcolm nods. “Yeah. Food first.”
I shake my head, pulling back reluctantly. “I really need to go back. Before they notice.”
Alex snorts quietly. “You’re not walking back into that mess on an empty stomach. Not with the way you’re feeling.”
Finn smiles gently. “Just eat. Then we’ll talk.”
They herd me into the kitchen without rushing me, setting me on a stool at the island while Finn moves efficiently around the space. Malcolm hands me a glass of juice. Alex leans against the counter nearby, watchful.
The kitchen fills with the comforting smells of food—eggs, toast, something warm and hearty. My stomach growls traitorously, and I flush.
Finn grins. “There it is.”
We sit together around the island, the mood lighter despite everything. They ask me small, normal questions. They tease me gently. Malcolm makes a terrible joke that makes me laugh before I can stop myself.
I eat more than I realize I need to.
For a little while, it feels… easy.
Too easy.
The thought of going back—of the noises, the scent of heat, the waiting—makes my chest tighten again.
I push my plate away reluctantly, dread settling back in.
“I don’t want to go home,” I admit quietly.
Finn’s smile fades, but his voice stays warm. “I know.”