Chapter 14
Maya
The day is winding down on set, the energy shifting as people pack up equipment and finalize notes for tomorrow. I move through my checklist carefully, marking off completed tasks and confirming the schedule, but my focus keeps slipping.
No matter what I'm doing, I'm aware of all three of them.
I’ve always been aware of them—it’s part of my job to know where people are and what they’re doing.
But this is different. This isn’t a professional observation or a practical necessity.
This is my attention snagging every time Adrian laughs at something Bash says.
This is my throat tightening when Elias shifts closer to me, the lessened distance making something inside me ease.
I finish the last item on my list and power down my tablet, avoiding the conversations happening nearby. People have been giving me a wider berth all day. It feels like they can sense the changes within me, even if the blockers are still working just enough to mask the worst of my scent.
“Just about done?” Elias’s voice cuts through my thoughts, calm and matter-of-fact.
“I need to talk to Nadia first,” I say. “She wants to check in before we go.”
He nods once. “I’ll meet you outside,” he says. He moves away before I can answer, heading for the nearest door. I watch him go, aware of more than one glance following his movement across the set. Nobody says anything.
They don't have to.
I grab my bag from my office, checking to make sure I have everything I need.
Phone, keys, and the small bottle of water I’ve been nursing since lunch.
The blockers are definitely wearing off.
I can feel it in the heightened awareness humming beneath my skin, in the way scents linger longer than they should.
But I’m not struggling the way I was this morning.
That realization follows me out of the office.
Like having him here—having all of them here—is helping, even when I’m trying so hard not to need them.
I head for Nadia’s trailer, my steps quick and purposeful.
The set is quieter now, and most of the crew is already packing up for the day.
A few people nod as I pass—the prop master with his clipboard, the assistant director confirming the next day’s call sheet—but no one stops to talk.
No one asks the questions I can see in their eyes.
Elias falls into step beside me without being asked, maintaining the distance that’s become our pattern. I feel... grounded. Like his presence is somehow keeping me from tipping over the edge I’ve been walking since this all started.
“Thanks,” I say as we reach the row of trailers. “For the escort. Although it’s not really necessary.”
He meets my eyes briefly. “I know,” he says simply. “But I wanted to do it anyway.”
The statement causes warmth to unfurl in my chest.
Nadia’s trailer is at the far end of the row, set slightly apart from the others. The light is on inside, the small window glowing yellow against the gathering dark. Elias stops at the bottom of the steps. “I’ll wait,” he says. “Take your time.”
Something in his tone makes me pause. “You don’t have to,” I say. “I can get home on my own. The subway’s not that far, and—“
“I know,” he says. “But I’m staying. That’s already decided.”
The words hang between us, his intentions clear. I nod once, suddenly unable to look at him, and climb the three steps to Nadia’s door. My knock is answered immediately—she’s been waiting, probably watching through the window as we approached.
“There she is,” she says, pulling the door open with a flourish. “The woman who’s been ignoring my texts for days.” Her eyes move past me to where Elias stands at the bottom of the steps, then back to my face. “Come in,” she adds, stepping back to make room. “We’ve got things to discuss.”
She closes the door behind me with a soft click, the sound of the lock engaging oddly final.
The trailer is warm after the cool evening air, the small space lit by a single lamp in the corner.
Nadia’s things are everywhere—costume pieces hung carefully on the rack by the door, makeup spread across the small counter, a half-empty coffee cup beside the script open to tomorrow’s scenes.
“Sit,” she says, nodding toward the small couch against the far wall. “And start talking. Because something’s happening, Maya. Something beyond just presentation. I’ve been watching you all day, and whatever‘s going on with those blockers, it’s not working like it should.”
The directness catches me off guard. I sink onto the couch, suddenly aware of how tired I really am. “They’re helping,” I say automatically. “Just not as much as yesterday. But I’m managing. I can get through the production, through whatever this is.”
Nadia sits across from me, her expression softening just slightly. “That’s the thing,” she says. “I’m not sure you can. Not the way you’re thinking.”
Something cold settles in my stomach. “What do you mean?”
She leans forward, her voice dropping. “Your timeline’s shorter than you think.
A lot shorter. The blockers are losing effectiveness faster than they should.
Your symptoms are accelerating. And being around multiple compatible alphas...
” She hesitates, choosing her words carefully.
“It’s pushing you closer to full heat faster than normal. ”
The word—heat—hits me like ice water to the face. “How much time do I have?” I ask, my voice sounding strange in my own ears.
“Days,” she says simply. “Not weeks. Maybe four or five, if you’re lucky. Less if you’re not.”
“But that’s...” I start, then stop, not sure how to finish the sentence. Impossible? Unfair? Exactly what I’ve been afraid of since this started?
“I know,” Nadia says. “But it’s happening, Maya.
Your body’s making the call, not your brain.
And there’s something else.” She hesitates again, her eyes on my face.
“The way those three are responding to you. The way you’re responding to them.
It’s not just presentation. It’s compatibility.
Real compatibility. The kind that doesn’t come around very often. ”
The words hang between us as I stare at her, heat crawling up my neck. “That’s not possible,” I say, though we both know it’s not true. “Scent matches are rare. Like, one-in-a-million rare. And I’ve known them for months. If we were compatible, I would have—“
“Would you, though?” Nadia interrupts. “Think about it, Maya. Really think. How long have they been watching you? How long have you been watching them? The way Adrian includes you in conversations without making it a thing. How Bash teases you just enough to get a reaction, but never crosses the line. Even Elias—and don’t think I haven’t noticed how careful he’s being with you—has been tracking your movements since week one. ”
Each word carries more impact than it should because Nadia is forcing me to look at it all at once.
Adrian making room for me without asking permission first.
Bash noticing things I never say out loud.
Elias showing up every time I need him before I've figured out how to ask.
None of it feels accidental anymore.
“It’s not true for Elias,” I say, the words coming out before I can stop them. “Adrian and Bash, maybe. But Elias is just... doing his job. Making sure I’m safe. That’s all.”
Disbelief flashes across Nadia’s expression.
“Elias Stone,” she says, each word precise, “has been noticing you since the first week of filming. I watched him track you across the set while you were still firmly in beta territory, Maya. He’s just more subtle about it than the other two.
He doesn’t wear his reactions where everyone can see. ”
“He’s just doing his job,” I repeat, though we both know it’s not that simple. “Making sure everyone’s safe. That’s what security does.”
“Sure,” Nadia says. She lets a beat pass. “And I’m actually an alpha.” The eye roll is small, almost fond. She lets that sit for a beat, then tilts her head. “So. Now that we’ve established we’re both liars— what’s actually going on with you?”
The question hangs between us, impossible to answer.
Not because I don’t know, but because knowing means facing things I’m not ready to name.
“What am I supposed to do?” I ask finally.
“If you’re right about the timeline, if the blockers are wearing off faster than they should, if being around them is making things worse—what am I supposed to do? ”
Something shifts in Nadia’s expression—relief, maybe, or understanding.
“First, you need to accept that this is happening,” she says.
“Your body’s making the call, not your brain.
And second, you need to understand what your omega will need when things get worse.
” She holds up a finger with each point.
“ A safe enclosed space. Comfort. Stability.” She hesitates, then adds a fourth with a small wiggle of her eyebrows.
“And compatible alphas. Plural intended.”
The teasing note breaks the tension, makes me laugh despite everything. “You’re impossible,” I say while shaking my head.
“I’m right,” she counters. “And you know it. The question is what you’re going to do about it.”
The question sits in my stomach like a stone. A line I’m not ready to cross, a conversation I’m not prepared to have.
“I don’t know,” I say finally. “It’s all happening so fast. One minute I’m just doing my job, moving through the world without being seen, and the next...” I gesture vaguely, unable to name what’s happening. “Everything’s different. I’m different. And I don’t know how to be this person yet.”
Nadia’s expression softens. “Hey,” she says, her voice gentler now. “Whatever happens—whatever you need—I’m here. Okay?”
Something in my chest loosens at her words. “Thanks,” I say, the word coming out soft.
She nods once. “Now, practical matters. I need you to text me when things start escalating. If you can’t—if it happens too fast or you’re too far gone to reach your phone—have one of them do it. I’ll come immediately. Just tell me where you are and I’ll be there if you need me.”
Heat crawls up my neck at the implication—that things might get bad enough that I can’t text, that I might need one of them to reach out for me, that whatever’s happening is already bigger than I’m ready to admit.
“It’s not embarrassing,” Nadia says, reading my expression easily. “It’s biology. Your body’s doing exactly what it’s designed to do, Maya. The only question is whether you’re going to fight it every step of the way or accept that some things are beyond your control.”
“I should go,” I say, pushing to my feet. “Elias is waiting, and I’ve kept him long enough.”
Nadia studies my face for a long moment, then nods. “Text me,” she says. “Tonight. Let me know you got home okay. And Maya?” She waits until I meet her eyes. “Whatever happens next—whatever you decide—it’s okay. However this plays out, you aren’t alone.”
“Thanks,” I say. “For everything.” My throat is tight enough that I’m surprised the words come out at all.
She nods once, then moves to the door, pulling it open with plenty of space between us so she doesn’t overwhelm me with her scent. “Go,” she says. “Your alpha’s waiting.”
The word catches me off guard. Not because I believe it or because anything’s been decided, but because some part of me likes the implication more than it should—the idea of someone waiting, of someone choosing to stay, of being seen as someone worth showing up for.
It would be easier if I could blame the omega.
But even as I think it, I know it’s not that simple.
Elias is exactly where I left him, standing at the bottom of the steps. He looks up as the door opens, his eyes finding mine immediately.
“Ready?” he asks.
I nod, suddenly unable to speak. Something’s changed—not just in my body or my scent or my understanding of what’s happening, but in something deeper. Something about how I see myself, my place, my worth.
We walk back to the parking lot together.
The night has fully settled now, the studio lot is deserted after the chaos of the day.
Most of the crew has gone home, just a few people are still packing up equipment or confirming tomorrow’s schedule.
They nod as we pass—the night security guard by the gate, the PA hurrying to the production office with an armful of clipboards—they all give us space.
Elias’s car is where he left it, parked in the employee lot. He unlocks it with a soft beep, moving to open the passenger door before I can reach for it myself.
“I can get my own door,” I say, though there’s no heat in it. Just a statement of fact, a reminder of the independence I’m still trying to maintain.
“I know,” he says, but he doesn’t step back. Just holds it open, waiting for me to make the choice.
I slide into the seat careful to avoid crushing against him. He closes the door behind me with a soft click before making his way around to the driver's side and sliding behind the wheel.
The car starts with a rumble, the interior warming quickly against the cool night air. Elias pulls out of the parking spot carefully and heads for the exit. Neither of us speaks as we drive through the dark streets, the only sound the soft hum of the engine.
It feels... routine.
We’re halfway to my apartment when he speaks. “Any plans for this weekend?” he asks, the question casual on the surface but weighted underneath. “Besides resting, I mean.”
“No,” I say. “Nothing specific. Just the usual. Laundry. Maybe some reading. Nothing exciting.”
He nods, eyes still on the road. “Makes sense,” he says. “You’ve had a long week.”
The conversation dies there, neither of us pushing to fill the silence, but I keep thinking about the question. Not my plans for the weekend, but whether he was trying to find his place in them. The thought should make me uneasy. Instead, it settles somewhere warm.
Like part of me had already started making space for him without realizing it.