#itsos

Morning comes to me slowly.

Warmth presses against my back in a way that makes me feel almost boneless beneath the blankets. For a few blissfully quiet seconds, I don’t move. I just exist there in the dark cocoon of my nest, listening to the steady sound of breathing behind me.

Then my brain catches up.

Simon.

My eyes open immediately.

The room is still dim, pale morning light only barely beginning to creep through the curtains. Everything feels soft around the edges, worlds away from the emotional hurricane of yesterday.

Carefully, I shift just enough to glance over my shoulder.

And there he is.

My chest blooms painfully with love at the sight of him.

Simon’s asleep behind me, one arm wrapped tightly around my waist like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he lets go. His face is half-buried in the mountain of pillows surrounding us, looking more peaceful than I think I’ve ever seen him.

But even sleeping, the exhaustion is impossible to miss.

Dark circles hollow out the skin beneath his eyes, making him look worn down to the bone. Fresh scars I don’t recognize cut across skin that already carried far too many. His blond hair is longer than I remember, still a little damp and messy from the shower he’d taken shortly after dinner when König finally forced everyone to stop talking long enough to eat.

Apparently, spending almost a year and a half hunting for your missing mate does terrible things to a person.

My throat tightens at the thought.

Yesterday’s conversation replays slowly through my mind.

It had started awkwardly. Not bad, just… strange.

I remember Simon’s hand locked around mine so tightly it almost hurt. Konig hovered close enough to intervene if Ghost had begun to spiral again. And then I remember Rhea taking one look at the state of us and wrinkling her nose.

“Absolutely not,” she’d said immediately.

Ghost had paused, like he hadn’t understood the words.

“You smell insane,” she said, looking at Ghost, “And you’re covered in dirt. Shower, both of you. Now.”

I’d actually laughed before guiding him to my room. I waited for Konig to drop off some clothes for Ghost before moving into the bathroom, unable to leave him for long.

He had taken off his mask, and it was like I found him all over again. We were a blur of desperate kisses and gentle touches before we made our way into the shower.

Neither of us spoke as he let me take care of him. I washed the grime off of him as he just gripped my hips, like he needed to touch me to ensure that he was really here. Every now and then, his hands would tighten suddenly and I’d look to find him staring at me with this raw, devastated expression that made my chest ache.

Like he still couldn’t believe he’d found me. Like if he blinked, I’d be gone again.

I think part of me felt the same when.

When I’d finally finished rinsing the shampoo from his hair, he’d leaned down and pressed his forehead against mine, water still pouring over both of us.

“You’re alive,” he’d whispered so quietly I almost hadn’t heard him.

Not a question.

Not even relief, really. 

Just pure disbelief.

I remember my throat tightening so badly I couldn’t answer him right away. Because what do you even say to that?

Sorry you thought I was dead? Sorry it took so long to find me? Sorry I can’t remember a damn thing that could have helped make any of this easier?

Instead, I’d just cupped his face with both hands and kissed him again. It was slower this time, more careful. The bond exploded between us, making us act out the words neither of us seemed to be able to express. Simon made a rough, broken sound against my mouth that nearly shattered me. 

We stood there in each other's arms, neither of us wanting to leave.

Eventually, though, Rhea started banging on the door.

“If you two drowned in there, I’m not dragging your bodies out,” she yelled from the other side.

Simon had actually laughed at that, making my heart clench.

“We’re just finishing up,” I called out.

She made some crude comment about finishing that had me rolling my eyes before we both moved to get out of the shower.

By the time we made it into the living room, everyone else was already spread out waiting for us. 

Konig took up almost the entire chair by himself. Nikto leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, with Horangi and Krueger sitting on either side of Rhea on the couch. 

The second we stepped into the room, every single pair of eyes snapped toward us.

Toward Simon, who was now unmasked with me tucked to his side. 

The silence stretched just long enough to become uncomfortable before Rhea took the reins.

“Come on, Mira,” she said warmly. “Come take a seat with your alpha and introduce us.”

Simon had tightened his grip on me before we moved to the loveseat that had been saved for us.

“Mira?” he asked cautiously as we sat down.

I looked at him, brows furrowing slightly. “That’s my name…” I said, though even as the words left my mouth, I wasn’t sure they felt right anymore.

“That’s what she was called when I found her,” Rhea explained gently.

We could all tell instantly that there were already infinitely more questions than we had expected. So, Rhea started from the beginning. After some brief introductions of her and her alphas, she explained how she found me and how we ended up here.

The whole time, Simon stayed silent, letting her talk while grief and sorrow rolled steadily through the bond.

The other alphas occasionally jumped in to clarify something, but none of them spoke much. It wasn’t until Rhea started explaining my recovery that Horangi finally stepped in. He sounded more like he was giving a mission briefing than talking bout a person.

“Her memory is… compromised,” he said carefully. “She has flashes and fragments, but not much beyond the last few weeks she spent in containment.” 

Something in his expression softened after that. “But she’s made good progress,” he added quietly. “Even with a few setbacks.”

Guilt flooded from my side through the bond, and Simon tracked my gaze to Horangi’s arm.

Not wanting the conversation to linger there much longer, I poke up before anyone else could.

“So, um… what’s actually my name, then?” The question came out sort of cautious. Like maybe the answer would hurt more than not knowing.

Wimon looked at me for a long moment before answering. He gave me my name before following it up with, “But in our pack, you’re known as Boo.”

A flicker of recognition shot through me as multiple facts reemerged from my mind. 

My name is Boo.

I have a pack.

There are three other omegas besides me. Each one of us has an alpha.

Thoughts came in broken fragments, slamming into each other faster than I could process them.

Rhea immediately moved from the couch, slowly crossing the room toward me as I struggled to piece everything together. She must’ve seen the panic starting to creep in because her voice softened even further.

“You wanna try talking through it?” she asked carefully. 

Her scent rolled over me gently, grounding me enough to breathe through the sudden rush in my head.

“I have packmates,” I started slowly. “There’s… there’s four pairs of us,” I start.

I look to Simon for support, but he just nods, letting me try to remember on my own. “I… I don’t remember names.”

“That’s okay,” Rhea says, reaching out for one of my hands. “What do they look like? What do they smell like?”

A cent flickered through my memory.

“Lilac…” I said slowly, like going too quickly would have chased it away. “One of them smelt like lilacs… And honey? No… why are they making me think of honey?”

“Bee,” Simon offered gently.

The name ignited my memory like a match to a haystack.

A blonde girl with freckles and a giant smile. Bee. Yes. It felt so right.

“Yeah,” I smiled. “Bee… Bee and…”

My thoughts stumbled again as another girl surfaced through the haze. Dark hair, lots of giggles… the faintest bit of mint under pomegranate. I could almost see the two of them wrapped around each other, laughing.

“Bun!” I gasped.

Simon smiled and nodded. “Good girl. What about the last one?” 

His praise made warmth flicker through the bond despite everything else happening. But the third omega was harder.

Bee and Bun had always felt connected somehow, making them easier to remember together. The last one lingered at the edge of my mind like a shadow I couldn’t quite reach. I leaned harder into the back of the loveseat, squeezing my eyes shut as I focused.

A floral scent drifted across my thoughts. Something clean and elegant. Like blossoms…

I cocked my head a little bit as a conversation came back to me. 

“Eh, don’t fret, Red. You get used to it.”

“Red?”

“Sorry, I’m unoriginal.”

My breath caught. It felt like something unlocked in my head. Memories crashed into me all at once. 

A tear slipped down my cheek as my eyes flew open. Worry surged through the bond as Simon shifted closer.

“Red,” I whispered, saying her name like a prayer. “Red… and Price… And Sop and Gaz.”

More names came spilling out before I could stop them.”

“And Mo and Henry and Roscoe and—”

My voice broke completely.

My hands flew to my face as tears started pouring down my cheeks.

It was too much too soon, but such a relief to have so many of my memories back at one time. The room was silent as he held me while I cried.

Rhea kneeled in front of us, doing what she could to help me through my emotions without just ripping me away from them.

“You’ve been fighting so hard for so long,” she soothed. “It’s okay to let go. We’ve got you.”

Simon’s arms tightened around me as her words helped me to release the tension in my body. He started murmuring my name in my ear as I continued to cry.

After a few minutes, I was able to calm down enough to look at the others. They all had varying looks of pity and concern on their faces.

“Sorry,” I said, trying to wipe at my face again. “I just…” I trail off, not really knowing how to finish.

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Rhea says gently. “This is a huge breakthrough.”

Nikto gave a grunt in agreement as I took a deep breath, trying to collect myself as I leaned back into Simon’s arms. Rhea settled back on her heels, looking between Simon and I.

“Alright,” she says finally. “Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way… I think it’s your turn to talk, Mr. Ghost.”

A wave of pure, crushing dread slammed through the bond so strong that it made my own stomach clench.

Konig leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees.

Simon took a deep breath before starting all the way back to the day he’d lost me. 

He talked about the search first. About the frantic scramble to find me and the others in the train. About how Laswell had eventually gotten involved. 

Her name caused a stir among the other alphas, but no one addressed it. He started talking about the train, and memories of my own started to spring up.

“...after the train stopped, I was the one who found the others,” Simon had said quietly. “Bee practically threw herself at me, cryin’ that you were gone.”

Grief surged sharply through the bond, so heavy that it made my chest ache. 

“We searched everywhere,” he continued. “High and low. But there wasn’t a trace of you.” His gaze drifted somewhere far away. “Ended up stayin’ at Mo’s place for a bit.”

He went quiet for a second before speaking again. 

“Think that’s when I stopped sleepin’. Just kept walkin’ around all night. Needed to keep movin’ or I was gonna lose my bloody mind.”

More tears slipped down my cheeks as his emotions bled through the bond.

God. I had put him through so much.

“After a few days,” he continued. “Rosco and his dog—”

“Murphy!” I interrupted. A few people chuckled at my outburst, making my cheeks warm.

Simon just looked down at me, a surge of love cutting through all the grief.

“Yes, love. Murphy.”

The nickname made my chest tighten.

“He picked up your trail near a set of tracks deeper in the woods,” Simon continued. “Tracks weren’t marked on any maps. Ended up bein’ some of the first sold proof we had of Shadow Company’s trafficking routes.”

Konig shifted in his chair at that, eyes darkening some.

Simon continued anyway, explaining how while he and a handful of others searched through Mexico trying to track me down, Laswell had apparently made dismantling Shadow Company her personal mission.

“You were the project she was working on, weren’t you, kätzchen?” Konig asked, surprising all of us.

I blinked at him. It was a rhetorical question, not meant for me, but I still couldn’t help but wanting to give him an answer. 

“Laswell was on the team that originally gave our company the orders to go after Ormond,” he offers as explanation.

He turns his head toward Rhea. “This whole time, we were looking for her and didn’t even know it.”

Rhea nodded thoughtfully, her eyes softening as she looked at me.

“It seems like it,” she murmured. “Do you think Laswell knows the soldier who helped us?”

“Probably does,” Simon had replied. “She was deep into working on finding Boo before I had split off to do my own thing.”

Shame curled through the bond then, thick and ugly. Not mine this time, but his.

“After you had been sold off in Mexico,” he’d continued, “I did lose my bloody mind.”

Nobody interrupted him.

“Took it out on the boys. Was a right prick to everyone.” His jaw tightened slightly. “Couldn’t focus on anything. Price eventually had to put me on medical leave before I did somethin’ really stupid.”

To my surprise, it was König who jumped in to placate him. “Losing your omega is not easy,” he’d kept his eyes on Rhea as he spoke. “I was ready to tear out every single person’s throat if it meant I could get her back…”

The unspoken ‘and I would have, too’ hung heavy in the air. For a moment, something silent passed between the two alphas. An understanding.

Nothing I would consider friendly, but recognition for one another certainly. Since the head alpha had accepted some part of Simon’s grief, and that alone was enough for the others to accept him. They were visibly more relaxed after that.

Simon took a slow breath before continuing.

“I tore through Mexico, tryin’ to retrace everythin’. Every route, every ransacked and abandoned base. I just needed somethin’ to figure out where they’d taken you last.”

“Nothing,” he’d said bitterly. “Found bloody nothing.”

Then his eyes flicked toward me.

“Didn’t help that you kept blowing up operations, love,” he added dryly.

My eyes widened. “I did?”

Rhea snorted.

“Sounds about right,” she said with a grin. “You used to mumble about it when things got back. Honestly, that’s part of what pushed me to do what I did.”

Heat flooded my face even now at the memory.

Simon started laughing suddenly, making everyone stare at him with surprise. Their shock only made Rhea start laughing too, and just like that, the heaviness in the room had loosened. 

I could tell by the crease in his eyes that even Konig had cracked a faint smile. Once the laughter had faded, Simon leaned back slightly against the loveseat.

“After ransackin’ Mexico,” he continued more quietly, “I separated from the pack. Figured if there was even the faintest trail of you somewhere, I’d find it faster on my own.”

Nikto shifted subtly then, like he was going to say something but decided against it.

Konig tilted his head slightly. “And what was the trail that led you here,” he asked carefully, “after all this time?”

The question settled heavily over the room, the brief warmth from the laughter disappearing.

Because this was it, the missing piece.

“It started with Ormond,” Simon said evenly. Everyone went still again.

“Like we’ve established…” A faint flicker of amusement crossed his face. “Explosions seem to be her thing.”

Rhea pressed her lips together, visibly trying not to smile.

“ So… I started tracking explosions, fires, anything unusual.” Simon shrugged slightly. “Read about Ormond and his trafficking operations in the papers. Whole thing just felt… right. No, not right, but just as if it had your name all over it. It was like I’d picked the trail back up again.”

His hand absentmindedly tightened around mine as he continued.

“Heard about two omegas escaping the scene. Then, a few weeks later, there was a raid on a fighting ring not too far from there.”

Simon’s gaze shifted toward the other alphas.

“I managed to get into the system and found out that my pack had been involved in the raid.” His jaw tightened slightly. “Figured they were probably there trying to recover Boo.”

My stomach dropped. 

If they’d been there… They would’ve been so close. They were probably still looking for me now. Fear spiked through me hard enough that my head snapped toward Konig before I could stop myself.

He immediately lifted a hand, like he already knew where my thoughts had gone.

“We’ll deal with it,” he said quietly. “Let's let him finish first.”

The reassurance loosened some of the panic squeezing my chest.

When I looked back at Simon, he was watching Konig carefully before continuing.

Did some more digging after that. Found out a van had left the scene with two omegas inside, including the target they had been searching for.” A small breath left his nose. “Tracked it for a whole. Then hit another dead end.”

Konig gave an easy shrug at that, entirely unapologetic.

Which… fair.

His pack had needed to disappear after all of that.

“That’s when I watched the footage from the raid,” Simon continued. “Knew it was her the second I saw you leading them to the van outside.”

His eyes locked directly onto Konig’s. The tension between them sharpened, and it was at that moment I realized that these two had history together. Not good history, either.

“Wasn’t exactly sure where you would’ve taken her,” Simon admitted. “But your home country seemed as good a starting point as any.” He shrugged slightly. “Been wanderin’ around, chasin’ scraps since then.”

His gaze shifted toward Rhea.

“Then I saw you at the market a few days ago.” His voice roughened slightly. “Caught the faintest hint of her scent and just…” He shook his head once. “Lost my fuckin’ mind.”

My breath catches softly.

“When I saw her out in the yard,” he continued, quieter, “I thought maybe you were keepin’ her here against her will or somethin’.”

A wave of shame rolled through the bond immediately afterward.

“Snapped before I could think better of it.”

And now we’re here, we all seemed to think.

After that, Konig stepped in and declared the conversation over for the night before anyone could spiral into darker territory again. We’d have some dinner and pick up plans on what to do next in the morning.

Dinner ended up being strangely normal. Or as normal as things could possibly be with my long-lost feral alphas suddenly sitting at the kitchen table with me. 

The conversation softened considerably once food was involved. Krueger and Rhea mostly carried it at first, steering things away from painful subjects whenever they could. Stories about me slowly replaced the darker topics.

The bond hummed happily as Rhea talked about me learning to purr and nest again. 

Nikto, who had been mostly silent since Simon’s arrival, even chimed in.

“She cried over forgetting baby goats existed,” he commented. 

My face had heated up at Simon, and Rhea laughed at my expense.

“It’s true,” she’d confirmed. “Went into a full-blown crisis for a bit as we watched some videos online.” Simon’s shoulders shook with silent laughter, the warmth of it flooding our bond.

For a little while, it almost felt like everyone might get along. Then, as we were finishing up, Simon finally addressed them directly.

“Thank you,” he’d said, looking from Rhea to her alphas. “For taking care of her when I couldn’t.”

The sincerity in his voice seemed to have caught everyone off guard. The table went quiet again, but this time it was different. Not tense, just… heavy. Konig and Rhea shared a look that seemed to hold an entire conversation before Rhea’s expression softened into a genuine smile.

“Of course,” she said simply. “Anything for a fellow prime. Even one as stubborn as you.”

And that had been it. Konig had all but pushed us out of the kitchen, telling us to get some sleep. And now I’m here, staring at his face while he gently stirs.

“Mornin’ love,” he rasps out.

My stomach flips, making me shift to face him completely. “Morning…” 

He leans forward, and our lips connect. It’s soft and tender, so different from the desperate, fumbling kisses we shared last night before passing out. His tongue traces the seam of my lips, asking for entrance. 

I open for him, my body pressing closer as he explores my mouth. It’s so utterly perfect that a soft moan escapes me. He’s gentle with me as his arms pull me flush against him. I can practically feel the restraint in his muscles as I settle against the familiar bulk of his body.

The bond thrums between us, a steady flow of love and longing flowing through it as we savor one another. One of his hands drifts from my waist down to my hip, lightly gripping me. He breaks the kiss to trail his lips along my jaw, nipping gently at the skin just below my ear. A wave of pure need floods through the bond, followed by a surge of something possessive. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, pulling back to look at me properly. “I’m not being too rough, am I?”

I shake my head before nuzzling into the crook of his neck. “No,” I purr. “If anything, you’re being too light. I’m okay, Simon. You can touch me… I… I need it.”

A deep rumble starts in his chest, matching my purrs. The hand that’s on my hip moves to my thigh and hooks under my knee. He’s pulling my leg over his hip to open me up for him within a heartbeat. The position is so intimate and familiar that it makes my heart ache. 

“Is this better?” he asks with a hint of amusement as he lazily rocks against me. 

I shake my head. “No,” I whine. “Need more. Please, Simon. Need to feel more of you.” 

A dark look flashes in his eyes. He slowly maneuvers us so I’m on my back with him looming over me. I spread my legs for him without thinking.

“Tell me what you need, love,” he coaxes, pressing his lips to my throat where his mark sits.

I shiver under him, arching my back, trying to get closer. “Need you inside me… Need you to claim me again. Need… God, Simon, I want you to make me forget again.”

A pained expression crosses his face at my words, the bond flooding with so much guilt it hurts.

“Boo…” he whispers, voice cracking slightly. “I would never—”

“I’m not asking you to hurt me,” I say, cutting him off. I bring up a hand to the side of his face so he can look at me. “I’m asking you to love me. Please… I’ve been without you for so long, and I just need to be reminded that I’m yours again. I… I need a new beginning. A moment to put everything else behind me.”

His expression softens slightly. His head dips down, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead.

“Alright, love,” he murmurs. “If that’s what you need.”

He presses another kiss to my lips, more demanding this time. I respond eagerly as his hands roam my body.

“I love you so much,” I whisper as I lean into his touch.

His expression crumbles for a split second. Guilt and love flood the bond before he deepens our kiss. I melt into him, letting him set the pace as I try to convey all the feelings that I can’t bring myself to say. 

When we finally part again, the grief that had managed to sneak in had been pushed away, replaced by something else entirely.

Desire.

My scent starts to bloom around us as slick begins to pool between my legs. Simon lets out a low rumble as he catches a whiff of my scent. His lips trail down my body, making me squirm beneath him.

He doesn’t linger on my breasts like flashes of memories remind me he would. Instead, he moves lower and lower until his head is resting against my thigh. He takes a deep breath that has my cheeks warming.

“Fuck,” he growls. “Your scent… It’s so intoxicating.”

He looks up at me. The sheer, raw need in his eyes makes my stomach flutter. “Can I taste you, love?” he asks, voice impossibly ragged.

A soft whimper leaves me as I nod. He delves in without a second thought, licking a long strip up my center that has me bucking into his mouth. He repeats the motion a few more times before he focuses on my clit. 

I can’t help but to cry out as he sucks my clit. My hands fly to his hair as I flood the bond with a mixture of pleasure and relief that makes my eyes water. I didn’t realize how much I needed this until the feeling of rightness washes over me.

“Simon,” I gasp out. “Close… please… don’t stop…”

He keeps licking the way I like, his predatory eyes locked onto every movement of mine. My hips roll on their own, grinding my clit against the flat of his tongue. A coil of pleasure gets tighter and tighter as I have to will myself not to come a few times.

I want to wait for him, to feel him inside me when I come, but it’s too late. His determination to work me over first wins out. My release crashes through me, making my whole body shudder as I ride out my orgasm against his face.

I watch as he climbs back up my body. His eyes are dark with desire as he leans down to kiss me again, letting me taste myself on his tongue. A volley of pleasure passes through us as I enjoy my musky, vanilla taste. 

“So good for me,” he murmurs against my lips. “Wanna make you feel good. Think you’re up for letting me in, love?” The question is so gentle and full of consideration that it makes my chest ache.

I rock my hips up, nodding eagerly as I try to coax him into me. 

“Patience, omega,” he rasps. “I’ll make you feel really good, don’t you worry.”

The casual dominance in his tone makes me whine. I need him so badly that it hurts. He seems to understand because he lines himself up with my entrance and, ever so slowly, starts pushing in. 

A long moan escapes me as he slides inside, filling me inch by inch. He takes it slow, letting me adjust to the stretch. He pauses, checking in with me. 

“You alright, love?” 

I nod, not trusting my ability to speak as I get used to his size again. 

“Talk to me, love,” he says softly, pressing a kiss to my shoulder.

“Just… just need a second,” I breathe out.

He hums, pressing another soft kiss to my mark. His other hand moves down between us, slowly starting to circle my clit. A fresh jolt of pleasure shoots through me, making me clench around him.

“Good girl,” he rumbles, making even more pleasure shoot through me at the praise. “Doing so well for me.”

My purrs start up again as my leg shakes. “Fuck,” I whimper. “You’ve already got me so close,” I whine to him, my face heating up at my admission. 

A breathy laugh leaves him. “I fail to see how that’s a problem,” he says, thumb still expertly twirling around my clit. “I love making you fall apart.”

As if to prove a point, he slowly pushes the rest of the way in, making me cry out. My walls flutter around him as a mini orgasm rushes through me.

“Simon!” I gasp, arching my back.

“There she is,” he grunts, pausing for a second to let me adjust again. “Always so sensitive for me.”

I whine again, pushing my hips up, urging him to move.

“Greedy,” he teases.

He starts a slow, steady rhythm that has my eyes rolling back. I’d forgotten what it felt like to be with him like this. To be so full of him that all I could do was take what he was giving me. 

The bond pulses between us, full of love and so much pleasure that it almost starts to become too much.

His movements are slow and deliberate, making me savor every stroke. I can feel my release building again, getting closer and closer. I try to hold back, wanting to drag this out as long as possible, but he’s making it difficult.

“Simon,” I whine again. “Please… I need…”

“I know, love,” he grunts, picking up the pace. “I know. Let me give you what you need.”

He leans down and captures my lips in a searing kiss as he picks up the pace. The bond floods with an overwhelming amount of possessiveness and love as he continues to thrust wildly into me.

“So good for me, omega,” he murmurs against my lips. “Always so good.”

The praise is my undoing. My hands fly to his back, nails digging into his skin as I try to hold on through the waves of pleasure that crash over me. 

“Alpha,” I whine, hips bucking wildly. “Please… fuck, Simon… I can’t…”

He doesn’t stop, keeping his pace as our eyes meet. A flicker of love shoots through the bond, and I’m tumbling off the cliff in the next breath. My walls clamp down on him, making him groan as he continues to thrust into me.

My whole body is trembling now as he works me through my orgasm.

“Doing so good,” he growls, still not stopping. “Give me another one, and I’ll give you my knot, omega.”

I’m too oversensitive to form a coherent sentence, but my body does the talking for me.

The third orgasm builds so fast that it takes me by surprise as the shaking in my legs becomes constant.

“Alpha,” I sob. “Simon… can’t… please… need… need…”

“Almost there, love,” he encourages. “Come on, give me another one.”

He slows down slightly, fingers focusing on circling my clit faster instead. My hips buck wildly and I scream out his name as the third orgasm tears through me. This one is even more intense than the others, leaving me a breathless, panting mess beneath him.

“Fuck,” he grunts as he thrusts into me one last time, his knot swelling and locking us together.

I cling to him as he stills, the warmth of his release starting to fill me up. The bond glows brightly between us, connecting us in a way I’d been missing for so long.

He collapses on top of me, careful to keep most of his weight on his elbows. We’re both breathing heavily as we come down from our high. My purrs are rumbling steadily in my chest as Simon’s deep, rumbling purrs start to echo mine. The feeling of being locked together like this after so long is so comforting that tears start to stream down my face.

“Shh, love, don’t cry,” he says, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead.

I can’t stop, though, as everything that has happened over the last year and a half finally catches up to me.

“Hey, look at me,” he says gently.

I look up, and my breath catches at the tenderness in his eyes.

“I’m here now,” he says softly. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m so sorry it took me so long to find you.”

I shake my head, reaching up to cup his face. “It wasn’t your fault, Si,” I whisper. “You found me. That’s all that matters.”

He nuzzles into my hand before leaning down to kiss me again. This kiss is different from the others. It’s slow and gentle, full of all the words we can’t seem to find.

The kiss deepens, and soon we’re lost in one another again. The world outside this room fades away as we relearn each other's bodies. My hands roam over his back, tracing the familiar lines of muscle and scar tissue. His hands are just as busy, mapping out every curve and dip of my body as if committing it to memory all over again.

“Si,” I murmur against his lips. “I love you.”

He stills, pulling back to look at me. The raw emotion in his eyes makes my chest ache. “I love you too, Boo,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “More than you’ll ever know.”

The words hang in the air between us, full of all the pain and longing we’ve both endured. For a moment, we just look at each other, saying everything we can’t with our eyes.

The smell of bacon and fresh coffee hits me the second Simon and I step into the kitchen some time later. 

My legs feel a little unsteady beneath me, but there’s a pleasant ache that serves as a reminder of our morning activities. 

The kitchen is already a flurry of movement. Konig stands at the stove, his massive frame somehow gracefully flipping pancakes. Rhea sits on one of the island stools with a mug in her hands, watching everything unfold with a smile on her face. Horangi leans against the counter, slicing fruit with practiced, lethal grace, while Nikto silently sets plates on the table in careful, methodical motions. Krueger lingers away from the rest of them, leaning against the dining room doorway with his arms lazily crossed.

“Morning,” I say softly to everyone.

Every head turns our way.

Oh God. Their reactions tell me that they can definitely know what we were up to. Rhea’s mouth twitches around the rim of her mug.

“Sleep well?” she asks with a twinkle in her eye.

Simon’s arm tightens around my waist. “We did,” he says flatly.

Konig snorts under his breath and flips another pancake. “Coffee’s there,” he says, nodding toward the counter. “Water’s still hot if you want tea.”

“Thank you,” we both chime.

I move toward the counter, and Simon follows close behind me like he’s physically incapable of giving me more than a few inches of space now.

The tension in the room hasn’t disappeared. It’s less than before, but still there. Konig’s pack is protective of Rhea and Simon is possessive in a way that’s impossible to ignore. Neither side fully trusts the other yet, and for good reason.

I pour Simon his tea first and place the mug into his waiting hand before fixing my own coffee.

The first sip settles in my chest, filling me with a pleasant warmth.

Rhea glances between all of us. “So,” she says lightly, “what’s the plan today?”

Konig looks over his shoulder at me. “First, we contact your pack.”

My brows furrow. “I thought we were waiting.”

“We were.” Konig turns his attention back to the stove. “Then I thought about it last night.”

I wait for him to continue, but he just adds another pancake to his stack like the answer should be obvious.

It’s really not, though.

Right as I open my mouth to ask, he sighs.

“You are reunited with your alpha now,” he says. “Your heat will likely follow soon enough.”

I nearly choke on my coffee.

“And,” he continues dryly. “I would prefer not to deal with a territorial alpha in my own house when that happens.”

My face flames instantly as memories of this morning play back in my head.

Yeah… fair enough.

Simon doesn’t even look embarrassed. “Laswell can help,” he says. “If you contact her directly, she can probably arrange a secure call. Transport too, if needed.”

Konig studies him for a long moment before giving a short nod.

“I’ll contact her.”

“I can—”

A raised hand cuts me off.

“I will handle it,” Konig says firmly, but it’s not unkind. He’s more just stating a fact than trying to correct anyone. “If we are doing this, then it needs to be done properly.”

Disappointment twists in my chest, but I swallow it down. Simon’s fingers curl around mine in reassurance. I look back at Konig and nod.

“Alright,” I say softly. “I trust you.”

It’s three days later when we pull up to another cabin buried deep in the woods, this one across the border and somehow even more isolated than the last.

The moment the car stops, Konig and Simon are scanning the tree line before the engine has fully shut off.

It’s safe, they assured me of that when we originally went over the game plan, but old habits seem to die hard for both these men.

Nikto, Horangi, and Krueger had flown in ahead with Rhea to secure the place before we arrived. Since I had absolutely no legal way to cross a border right now, Konig had smuggled me through back roads and checkpoints hidden in the back of his SUV like contraband.

This would all be funny later, I’m sure of it. But right now, my stomach is in knots.

Laswell and part of my pack are already inside waiting for us. Every step toward the cabin makes my pulse pound harder.

Simon left on bad terms. Very bad terms. I know a huge part of him is terrified to see Price again, to face the judgment and pity in his eyes. Anxiety curls tightly between both of us through the bond, but I’m the only one who seems to be outwardly showing it.

Simon’s hand slides to my lower back, helping to pull me out of my spiral.

“It’s alright, love,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my temple. “They’ll be happy to see you.”

Just me? I can’t help to think, but I stay quiet. I nod, even though my chest still feels too tight to breathe properly

“Let’s just get this over with,” I whisper. 

Simon moves his hand from my back, moving to hold my hand as he guides me toward the cabin.

The door opens, and warm air spills over us, sending familiar scents our way. 

Two heads lock onto us immediately.

Price.

Red.

Everything in me stops. 

Red stares at me like she’s not sure she’s seeing the right thing. Her eyes flick over my face, my shorter hair, the weight I’ve lost, the shadows under my eyes.

“Boo…” she breathes. Her voice shatters as she says my name. Tears immediately fill her eyes as she looks past me toward Simon. “You found her.”

Price says nothing at first.

He just watches us carefully. He looks older than I remember, tired in a way that goes beyond lack of sleep.

He takes one step toward me.

Without thinking, I flinch back.

Simon is instantly moving, stepping in front of me with a low growl in his throat.

The entire room tenses.

Price stops immediately, then raises both his hands to show he’s not a threat. “We’re not going to hurt her, Simon,” he says carefully. “We just want to see her.”

Simon doesn’t move. His growl eases slightly, but I can still feel his tension through the bond. He glances back at me, and I give him an encouraging nod. He relaxes, and I step around him.

That’s all Red needs before she breaks. She crosses the room so fast I barely have time to brace before she throws her arms around me.

The force of it knocks the breath from my lungs, forcing me to take in more of her scent when I finally catch my breath.

The smell of sweet, floral trees has me sobbing instantly. I melt into her arms, the sheer relief of her acceptance flooding my system.

“Oh, my god,” Red cries into my shoulder. “We thought you were dead. We all thought—” Her voice cracks. “Boo, where the hell have you been?”

I can barely breathe around my own sobbing.

“I’m sorry,” I manage to choke out. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Red pulls back just enough to grab my face between her hands.

“Don’t,” she says firmly, tears running freely down her cheeks now. “Don’t you dare apologize.”

That only makes me cry harder.

I bury my face against her shoulder again, breathing her in like I’m trying to convince myself she’s real. 

Her arms keep tightening around me.

“Easy, sweetheart,” Price says gently from nearby. “She looks like you could break her if you squeeze too hard.”

Simon bristles from behind me. “She’s not fragile."

Price glances over at him, more exhausted than irritated. “You look like hell, Simon.

Simon snorts quietly. “Felt worse.”

For the first time since we walked in, something almost amused flickers across Price’s face.

“I’m sure you have,” he says with a smirk. “Good to see you anyway.”

“You too, Captain.”

The tension in Simon’s shoulders eases just slightly after that.

Price steps closer again, slower this time, giving me plenty of room to pull away if I need it.

I give him a small smile, turning his way to let him know I won’t flinch this time. He reaches out and rests a hand against my shoulder. The touch pulls a soft purr from my chest before I can stop it.

Price’s expression crumples a little at the sound.

“It’s good to have you back, kid,” he says quietly.

Another sob escapes me. I step forward, wrapping my arms around him. “Good to be back.”

He stiffens in surprise for half a second, then settles, one arm wrapping carefully around my back.

That’s when it clicks.

I’m home.

The relief that crashes through me is so overwhelming that my knees nearly give out. Simon reaches out through the bond, sending me some reassurances through the grief that swirls around my chest. 

When Price finally pulls back, I catch the guilt that flickers across his face. It’s gone almost instantly, buried beneath the calm, controlled expression I’m more used to seeing from him. 

That’s when I notice the other familiar figure in the room.

“Laswell,” I greet, rubbing my eyes with the back of my hands. 

She gives me a small smile. “Boo,” she greets back. “It’s good to see you again. You had a lot of people worried.”

A watery laugh escapes me. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

Laswell waves off the apology immediately. “You’re alive. That’s all that matters.”

My eyes scan the room, heart sinking a little when I don’t see any of my other packmates.

“Where are the others?” I ask. “Thought they were coming.”

Price lets out a heavy sigh. “There was a slight change of plans. They wanted to be here…” he explains. “...but, we thought it best to keep this small for now.”

He trails off, looking at Red.

I frown. “Why?”

Red scrunches up her lips, then both her and Price look toward Simon. He very pointedly looks somewhere else. And suddenly, the whole room feels different.

Like everyone knows something I don’t.

“What?” I ask, looking between all of them. “What happened?”

Red steps closer and gently touches my arm. “Nothing bad,” she says quickly. “Nobody’s hurt.”

That doesn’t help my anxiety at all.

“Red.”

Her expression softens as I give her a pleading look.

“Bee had a pup while you were gone.”

My brain short-circuits.

A pup.

Bee had a baby. 

The thought hits me so hard I almost feel dizzy. I’ve been gone long enough for an entire pregnancy to happen. I swallow, trying to alleviate my suddenly tight throat.

“A pup?” I whisper.

Red nods, smiling through tears of her own now. “A little boy,” she says softly. “Her and Johnny named him Archie.”

The tears are back instantly. 

“Archie,” I repeat weakly.

I can almost picture it. Bee holding a baby with Soap hovering nearby. He’s trying not to cry while absolutely crying. Joy and grief twist painfully inside me.

I’m so happy for them.

But I missed all of it.

“We didn’t want to overwhelm you,” Price says quietly. “Bee’s… protective right now. More than usual.”

“Especially after everything,” Red adds quietly.

Price nods solemnly. “We figure it’d be better to ease into things… just in case.”

I nod quickly before they can mistake my expression for anger.

“I understand,” I say, even though my voice still sounds strained. And I do. But it doesn’t make this hurt any less.

“And how’s Soap?”

“He’s doing well, staying close to Bee,” Price says. “Gaz and Bun stayed back to help keep things running at the main horse.”

I wipe at my face again, trying to pull myself together. “Main house?”

Price and Red exchange another look.

“Why don’t we get you settled first,” Price suggests, “then we can explain everything.”

Before I can push any further, Rhea pops in from the hallway.

“They you are,” she says, waving both Red and I toward her. “Come on. Leave the brooding alphas to do their weird dominance posturing things.”

A laugh slips its way easily from me.

Behind me, I can feel the tension in the room thickening already.

Possessiveness rolls sharply through the bond from Simon, enough to make me glance back.

He’s watching Price carefully, and Price is watching him right back.

I send a pulse of reassurance through the bond right as Rhea whispers to me, “They’ll be alright.”

I know that, just as much as I know that they need to work through whatever happened between them while I was gone. I still can’t help but to feel a little nervous to leave them alone. Rhea seems to catch onto my thoughts.

“Konig will make sure there’s no bloodshed, I promise.”

Rhea leads us down the hallway and into one of the bedrooms. 

The room itself is warm and soft in a way that immediately eases something tight in my chest. Thick curtains block out most of the daylight, a familiar rug rests next to the bed, while a duffel bag sits at the foot of the large bed. 

I stop short.

“Niky brought your things in,” Rhea says softly. “And Red brought the rug.”

Red shifts a little beside me. “I figured you’d want something familiar.”

I stare down at it, my throat suddenly tight.

I remember buying this rug with the girls, the memory hitting hard enough to ache.

“Rhea said you were starting to nest again,” Red continues. “So I thought you might want something you picked out before…”

I turn and pull her into another hug.

“Thank you,” I whisper against her shoulder. “It’s perfect.”

She laughs softly and hugs me back. “Are you sure you’re my Boo?” she teases. “You’re way cuddlier than I remember.”

I huff a laugh.

Rhea raises a hand. “That might be my fault,” she says with absolutely no shame. “I’ve been aggressively treating her with cuddles. Think I've made it second nature by now.”

Red snorts. “You know what? Fair enough.”

Then her expression softens as she looks over Rhea properly. “Thank you,” she says, voice filled with emotion. “For taking care of her. We owe you a great debt.”

Rhea shakes her head, giving us both a soft smile. “No debt. We’re pack now, just in a different way.”

Rhea hesitates just slightly at that. Not in rejection, more caution than anything. Like she’s not fully ready to let her guard down. After everything that’s happened, can’t say I blame her.

“You sound like quite the head omega now,” I muse.

That earns me a tiny shrug.

“Well,” she says dryly. “It’s not like you really gave me a choice.”

I laugh weakly before the guilt can really settle in.

“You’re good at it,” I tell her honestly. “Better than I was.”

Red’s expression hardens. “No,” she says firmly, reminding me of her mate. “We’re just different. You held everyone together in ways I couldn’t. I’ve just stepped up where I had to.”

My throat tightens. 

“We worked because we worked together,” she continues. “All of us.”

I look over to Rhea who nods encouragingly at me. A purr rumbles up from my chest, making Red pause. Her eyes widen slightly as she also turns toward Rhea. 

“You did this?” she asks, sounding genuinely impressed. “Took us forever to get to this point. We might need to steal you for ourselves.”

Rhea grins. “Good luck with that.”

“I’m serious,” Red teases. “She’s made more progress with you in a few weeks than we managed in months.”

“Hey!” I say, acting offended.

Rhea giggles. “I did not change her,” she says softly. “I merely allowed her omega to find itself again. She was always there, just needed the guidance to come out.”

Before Red and I can spiral into a complete sobbing disaster again, Rhea firmly pushes me toward the bathroom to wash my face and change my clothes.

By the time we all make it back to the living room, I feel at least a little more human, and certainly ready to deal with whatever is awaiting me.

The tension from earlier seems to have simmered down some. It’s not gone entirely, but Simon and Price must have reached some kind of temporary understanding while we were gone.

At the very least, neither of them looks ready to kill the other anymore.

Konig gives me a small nod from where he stands near the kitchen, and Laswell offers a matching nod from her seat beside Price.

I make my way over to the couch and sit close enough to Simon that our thighs press together immediately. His arm settles across the back of the couch behind me on instinct.

The other slowly settle too, taking their place next to their alphas as we all settle in.

“So,” I say lightly, “before we get into all the doom and gloom… What else have I missed since I’ve been gone?”

A few chuckles bounce around the room.

Price exhales through his nose and leans back slightly in his chair. “A lot, unfortunately.”

“Ah,” I sigh dramatically. “Straight into the trauma. Excellent.”

That earns me the tiniest twitch of amusement from him before his expression settles again.

“Things changed after you disappeared,” he says carefully. “The house stopped feeling safe for any of the omegas.”

The humor drains out of me a little at that.

“So,” he continues, “a couple of months after moving into the house you knew about, we bought land.”

My brows lift.

“How much land?”

“Too much,” Red comments.

“Enough,” Price corrects.

Red snorts and crosses her arms. “It’s in the middle of nowhere,” she explains to me. “Kinda like this place. It’s kind of the point, really. Guys say it’s easier to monitor who comes and goes.”

“We built the main house first,” Price continues. “Big enough for all of us to stay there temporarily. Eventually, it’ll act more like a central hub.”

I shift against Simon slightly. “Temporarily?”

Price nods. “Everyone’s building separate houses around it.”

I stare at him. “You made a compound?” 

Price shrugs. “Yeah,” he says easily. “Bee and Bun’s houses are already finished. Ours is next.

“And…” I hesitate slightly. “Would Simon and I get one too?”

The room goes a bit quiet, and Price looks toward Simon.

“If that’s what you both want,” he says carefully. 

Simon’s jaw shifts slightly before he turns to me. “I left before deciding anything,” he admits. “Needed to find you first.”

There’s another pregnant pause in the room before Price clears his throat.

“For now, you’ve got a room for the both of you in the main house,” he says. “No pressure beyond that.”

I nod slowly. “Okay. Yeah. That sounds… nice, actually.”

The conversation lulls for a moment, and I take the chance to squeak in a question.

“How’s Bun doing? You guys didn’t mention her much earlier.”

Red immediately looks down, making my stomach tighten.

“She’s better now,” Red says carefully.

Now. Not before. Something cold slips down my spine. 

“What happened?”

Red rubs her palms together nervously before answering.

“She took your disappearance really hard,” she says quietly. “We all did, but… bun especially.”

My chest aches. Flashes of us half-feral and terrified play through my mind. Guilt pulses sharply through the bond. Simon reaches over and rubs his thumb against the back of my hand.

“She started having feral episodes,” Red admits softly. “Really bad ones. She wouldn’t let anyone near her except Gaz, and even that wasn’t certain.”

“She stopped sleeping properly,” Price adds. “Stopped eating unless Gaz physically stayed beside her.”

Red nods solemnly. “We were scared she was going to hurt herself.”

“Okay,” I whisper slowly. “That sounds really bad…”

“It was bad,” Price says honestly. “Gas did everything he could. But eventually, we needed outside help.”

Something about the way he says it immediately makes my skin crawl.

Simon goes still beside me as anger starts to creep through the bond.

“What kind of outside help?” I ask carefully.

Price keeps his tone calm and measured. “We got her into an omega treatment facility. They specialize in regulation therapy.”

Every instinct in my body goes on high alert. 

I glance over slightly at Simon, and he’s already staring Price down.

“...Okay,” I say cautiously. “And that helped?”

“It did,” Red says just a little too quickly for my liking.

“She’s doing much better now,” Price adds.

Red's posture starts to change, getting a hint more defensive, like she already knows I’m not going to like where this conversation is heading.

“The program was actually really good,” she says carefully. “They help omegas recover after trauma, feral episodes—”

“Where is this going?” I interrupt flatly.

Neither of them immediately answers. It’s Price’s heavy sigh that lets me know this isn’t going to be good. 

“We think it might be a good idea for you to spend some time there before coming back to the pack house.” The room explodes. 

Simon is on his feet instantly. “No,” he barks. 

Konig’s growl cuts through the room a moment later, deep enough to make my chest rattle. “She does not need a facility.”

 “I just got her back,” Simon snarls. “You are not sending her away again.”

“That’s not what we’re saying,” Price shoots back, clearly exhausted. “Christ, Simon, we weren’t even planning on discussing this yet—”

“Then perhaps it is good we discuss it now,” Konig says coldly.

The tension spikes so fast it makes my pulse jump.

Red sits forward immediately. “We’re not trying to punish her,” she says. “We just want to make sure she’s okay.”

“I am okay,” I say firmly, even as my anxiety starts to spark. “I just want to go home.”

Simon’s anger floods the bond, only serving to feed my own panic even more. 

All of a sudden, there are too many emotions, too many instincts, too many people talking about me like I’m not right here in front of them. My panic starts to rise more and more until Rhea steps into the middle of the room. 

Her scent hits everyone like a brick wall, immediately bringing the tension to zero.

“Enough,” she says, not loudly but enough that every single person listens. “We can discuss this later, but not like this.”

Red exhales shakily. “Rhea, you’re not going to be there for her. If she goes feral again—”

“You have not heard her story,” Rhea cuts in.

The room quiets.

“You do not know what she survived,” she says, looking directly at Price and Red. “You do not get to decide her future without knowing her full past. She has come a long way, she is no doubt different than you remember her.”

Nobody speaks for several long seconds.

Eventually, Price rubs a hand over his face. “...Fair enough.”

After a long silence, Price looks back toward me. “So,” he says gently, “why don’t we start, then?”

My stomach sinks again. Insecurities about how they’ll take everything, especially now that I know they might try to send me away, flood my system.

I grimace slightly. “I mean… is that it? Is there anything else that I missed?”

To my surprise, Laswell answers first.

“They spent most of their time looking for you,” she says dryly. 

I blink at her.

“When they weren’t actively trying to erase evidence that the pack existed,” she continues, “they were calling me at all hours with leads they swore would pan out.”

Price looks mildly offended. “Some of them did pan out.”

“John,” Laswell says flatly, “one of your leads was a woman in Prague with braids.”

“They looked just like hers,” Price defends.

“The woman was a different race,” Laswell deadpans.

Despite the lingering tension, a laugh escapes me.

Laswell gives me a soft smile before it’s back to business with her. “Boo,” she says gently, “before you start, there’s something I need to ask your permission for.”

I tilt my head. “Permission?”

“I’d like to record your statements,” she explains. 

My brows knit together.

“You’re not in trouble,” she quickly adds. “And this is entirely your choice. If you don’t want to, I can head out on the next flight.”

I pause and look over to Simon for his input. He gives me that blank expression before shrugging, telling me that it really is my preference and that nothing bad should come out of it if I do say yes.

“We have several of Ormond’s men in custody,” Laswell continues. “We’re just looking for testimonies from his victims that could help place them behind bars.”

I take a moment to think. “Am I going to have to like, go to court or anything like that?” I ask hesitantly.

“This would be in place of going to court,” Laswell replies. “We get your statement so we don’t have to subpoena you.”

“Oh,” I say with a heavy breath. “Well then, I’ll tell you everything I can.”

Another round of chuckles bounce around the room. 

“Alright,” she says, reaching into a nearby bag and pulling out a small recording device. Horangi, Nikto, and Krueger seem to make themselves scarce as Kate starts to say a few words into the recorder. She mentions her name, the date, as well as my name, designation, and a few other details.

She sets it on the table in the ottoman in the middle of the room.

I stare at it as a tiny red light stares back at me. “Is… is that actually going to pick me up?”

Laswell nods. “It should pick up everyone in the room.” Her gaze flicks around the group, already seeing that it’s been thinned out. “So if anyone doesn’t want to be recorded, now’s the time to leave.”

Konig glances over to Rhea. 

The two of them have a silent conversation before he leaves with a reluctant nod. Rhea stays, leaving just the six of us behind. 

Laswell settles back into her seat before speaking again. “Boo, do you consent to this interview being recorded for investigative and prosecutorial purposes?”

“Yeah,” I answer with a nod. “That’s fine.”

My hands twist together in my lap. “Um, do I just like get started or…?”

Laswell nods, a faint smile on her face. “Whenever you’re ready,” she says gently. “Start wherever makes the most sense to you. Don’t worry about getting everything perfectly in order. Just tell your story the way you remember it. If I have any questions, I’ll just ask you later. Sound good?”

I nod again before she smiles at me. I realize my mistake and quickly scramble. “Yes, yeah, sorry.”

My nerves build up, but Simon’s quick to try and balance me out through the bond. “Well, then… I, uh. I guess I’ll start as best as I can in Mexico…”

Just like last time, my story takes a few hours.

It wasn’t one long, uninterrupted confession. We took breaks for food and bathroom trips as they were needed, but I told them everything I could.

I talked about Shadow Company, about Ormond and his island. About the cages I was kept in, and as much of the conditioning and abuse as I could manage. 

Some parts came easier than others. The practical details were the easiest: names, layouts, procedures, anything I could remember. The emotional parts were where I stumbles. 

More than once, Simon had to call for a break so I could regulate myself with him and Rhea. 

Red cried quietly more than once, and Price looked ready to commit murder about the same number of times. Simon held me closer as I talked about the island, more memories surfacing since the last time I’d spoken about it.

At one point, I stopped mid-sentence as something suddenly clicked into place.

Then I burst out laughing.

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” I said, covering my mouth as I tried to get myself under control. “I just remembered where my name came from.”

“Your name?” Laswell prompted.

“Mira,” I clarified. “I was confused where that name came from. I was thinking maybe it was just a common name for his omegas or something, but no.”

I had to stop myself from laughing again.

“In Mexico, when he bought me, my handlers were speaking Spanish, right?”

Laswell nodded for me to continue. 

“Well, they were trying to get Ormond to look at me. Probably just really trying to get rid of me or something. They kept saying, ‘mira, mira’. You know, like, ‘look, look’?”

A few giggles escaped before I could stop them.

“I think he just assumed it was my name.”

Rhea snorted, making me laugh harder, and even Laswell had looked away for a moment. I saw her fight a smile before she composed herself again. 

I continued from there, the mood quickly turning more down again.

By the end of it, I felt hollowed out.

Currently, I’m curled up sideways on the couch with a blanket over my legs, silently working my way through a pudding cup Konig had given me when Laswell picks up the recorder again.

She glances down at the notepad she’d been taking notes on.

“Think you can handle some follow up questions?” she asks.

I nod, settling myself for whatever comes next.

“Alright,” she says, switching the recorder back on and setting it in its place on the coffee table. “If you don’t remember something, just say so. I may ask a few follow-up questions to see if anything jogs your memory, but if it doesn’t seem productive, we’ll move on.”

I nod.

We spent another two hours going over every detail Laswell had questions about. At some point, it started feeling less like a conversation and more like I was in the middle of an interrogation.

I didn’t mean to, but I started answering mostly in yeses and nos. It felt better, like I was less attached to the situation. Laswell seemed to catch on quickly and adjusted to it, keeping her questions short and direct. It really helped once we started getting into the harder topics, like my time on the island, and especially the conditioning.

She asked about the other omegas, and my chest ached thinking about the ones who never made it out the way I did. I gave descriptions wherever I could. Faces, voices, scars, anything that might help to identify who I was talking about. Especially when it came to the people I’d seen visiting Ormond’s “collection” as he so lovingly called us.

Eventually, the questions shifted toward prime alphas and omegas.

She asked if I’d seen any while I was being held captive or on the island. I answered as carefully as I could without risking Simon or Rhea’s names or designations ending up anywhere in the case files.

“Have you kept up with the news lately?” Laswell asks.

I shake my head. “No. I’ve been more focused on my health.”

“So you’re currently unaware of any movements regarding prime alphas and omegas.”

Again, I shake my head. “No.”

“Have you looked into any of the alphas or omegas that have escaped from Ormond’s facility, besides yourself?”

“No.”

“Have you had any contact with any of the other alphas or omegas you had seen under Ormond’s care?”

I glance at Rhea. She gives me a small shake of her head.

I look back to Laswell, and she only shrugs, expression unreadable.

“No,” I lie.

Laswell accepts the answer easily and moves on.

“I’m just going to ask a few questions about your physical health,” she says.

I straightened a little. 

“Have you experienced any dizziness or chronic headaches since your rescue?”

“Yes.”

“Any nausea or vomiting?”

“Yes.”

“Shortness of breath?”

“Yes.”

“Any loss of vision or hearing?”

“Some.”

“Chronic pain? Particularly in your lower abdomen or back?”

“Yes.”

“Have you had any memory issues?”

“Heavily, yes,” I answered with a small snort. 

“Alright, and last question about your current health,” she says, looking down at her pad. “Have you had a medical exam since your rescue?”

“Yes.”

“By a licensed medical professional?”

“...No.” I look down at my hands. “I, um. I’m not really a fan of doctors.”

“May I ask why?” Laswell presses gently.

I look at her with an expression that read, Seriously?, but then I remembered that this is for the recording.

“I, uh…” I rub my arm. “I grew up on a farm. Doctors weren’t really something you went to unless you were missing something important.”

I swallowed. “And lately, whenever I do end up in a doctor’s office, they’re either actively trying to harm me… or kill me.”

Price stiffened and Simon’s arm tightens around me for half a second before he forces himself to relax again.

Thankfully, Laswell seems to recognize that she’d reached the limit.

“Alright,” she says quietly. “I think that’s everything I need for now.”

She clicks the recorder off, and the entire room seems to exhale at once. 

“I must say,” Laswell muses, sounding almost impressed. “I didn’t think you’d make it through all of that in one sitting. I was expecting this to take a day or two.”

“My strong girl,” Simon murmurs, making my cheeks heat.

Not too long after that, the night finally comes to an end, and everyone drifts back to their rooms. Mentally exhausted from the day’s conversations, I was asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow.

The next day passed in a blur.

One moment, I was sitting at the breakfast table with everyone, and the next, I was holding Rhea tightly as we said goodbye.

It was harder than I expected, leaving the pack that had cared for me during the worst period of my life. I don’t think any of us walked away from those goodbyes with dry eyes.

Getting into the car afterward felt right and wrong all at once.

Rhea gave me a way to contact her before we left, promising we’d see each other again someday, but I knew how life worked. We weren’t teenagers promising to stay in touch after summer vacation. We were adults with separate lives, responsibilities, and obligations pulling us in different directions. 

I didn’t know when I’d ever see her again, but I was grateful for the time we’d had together.

Thankfully, the trip home was much less stressful than the journey to the safehouse.

With Laswell’s clearance, crossing borders and catching a flight back was surprisingly easy. Even so, I spent most of the flight gripping Simon’s arm hard enough to leave marks, constantly teetering on the edge of going feral. It was the first flight I’d been fully conscious for and I hated it.

By late afternoon, we were landing back at the base I used to call home.

It felt so strange being there. Nothing had changed, yet everything had all at the same time.

We weren’t there long, just enough to load the few belongings I’d collected from Rhea and her pack into the back of an SUV before we were back on the road again, heading toward my new home.

I couldn’t stop staring out the window.

The world outside felt almost unreal. It was familiar in a way that made my chest ache. Every passing street and storefront pulled fragments of memory back to the surface. 

Simon sat up front beside Price while Red rode in the back with me, filling the silence with easy chatter about anything and everything she could. I tried to follow along, really I did, but my attention kept drifting back outside.

I couldn’t stop looking at it.

At the life I’d once believed was gone forever.

I don’t realize we’ve arrived at the compound until the car starts to slow.

My eyes drift across the forest around us. A long driveway branches off into smaller paths, each leading to houses tucked between the trees. 

Price takes the center road. The main house sits at the end of it. The place is massive, big enough to house a small army.

Even from here, I can see the other homes scattered through the woods, close enough to feel connected without sacrificing privacy. Bee and Soap’s place sits off to the left, Gaz and Bun’s is farther to the right. 

“Here we are,” Price says as he parks. “Home sweet home.”

My throat tightens immediately.

Red reaches over and squeezes my hand. “We’ll get you all settled in.”

The sharp sounds of doors opening, boots hitting gravel, and voices pulling luggage from the back yank me back into the present. Simon is at my side almost immediately, opening my door and guiding me out against him.

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t need to. I can feel his comforting rumble and his reassurance pulsing through our bond. It helps me to ground myself before I can even spiral. 

The front door swings open before we even reach the porch.

Bee and Bun stand there together, framed by warm light spilling out from inside.

My breath catches.

They’ve changed.

We all have, really. 

But Bee… she’s softer now, in a way that suits her. She’s curvier, seems warmer. There’s a glow about her that has nothing to do with the light behind her. It betrays her recent motherhood in a way that makes my heart clench.

Bun looks different too. Thinner, in a tired way that I recognize immediately. When her eyes meet mine, relief floods across her face so quickly it nearly knocks the breath from me.

My steps falter.

“Easy, love,” Simon says from beside me, helping me to keep steady.

I barely hear him.

“Boo…” Bee breathes, her eyes filling instantly.

Then she’s moving.

Before I can fully process it, she’s hurrying down the porch steps and I’m meeting her halfway. 

We collide hard enough to make my bones rattle.

“Thought we lost you,” she sobs into my shoulder. “Every day, we thought…”

My throat tightens.

I just hold onto her, burying my face against the familiar sweetness of her scent like I’m afraid she’ll disappear if I let go.

When we finally pull apart, Bun is standing there waiting. She’s watching me with wide, hesitant eyes.

Bee glances between us before stepping aside reluctantly as I open my arms.

Bun approaches slowly, cautiously.

When she hugs me, it’s nothing like Bee’s crushing grip. It’s careful… fragile. Like she’s afraid I’ll break apart in her hands.

“It’s good to have you back,” she whispers against my hair.

I squeeze her tighter, and after a moment, she does the same.

“It’s good to be back,” I whisper.

Bee’s gaze drifts over me, her head shaking slightly like she still can’t fully believe I’m standing here. Honestly, I can’t blame her.

“Your muscles,” she mourns with a small pout. 

I snort out a laugh, slapping at my softer upper arms. “They’ll come back eventually. Just means I’m gonna have to spend way more time in the gym than I want to.”

I grab the ends of my hair. “My hair’ll probably be back to my old length by the time they’re back.”

“Nah, you should keep this length,” Bee says with a grin. “I like it. Makes you look dangerous.”

Her giggle hits me right in the chest. It’s such a normal sound and it just makes everything feel so right again.

“Don’t listen to her,” Bun says softly. “You look good.”

Her eyes flick over me carefully. “Healthy, even.”

Before I can answer, Gaz and Soap finally step outside. Soap has a small bundle tucked carefully against his chest that has my response dying on my tongue.

The moment Soap’s eyes land on me, his entire face shifts with it. Relief, disbelief, concern, all dash across his face. He himself looks exhausted in the way only new parents can, but he’s happy at the same time, too.

“Boo,” Gaz breathes.

He walks up, pulling me into a hug the second I’m free.

“You look like you’ve been through hell and back.”

“Pretty much,” I admit with a weak laugh. “It’s good to see you, Gaz.”

He squeezes me once before stepping aside so Soap can move closer.

“Lass,” Soap says quietly, staring at me like he still isn’t convinced I’m real. Then his eyes lift toward Simon.

“You found her.”

I glance over my shoulder just in time to catch the way Simon’s head slightly dips.

“Aye,” Simon says. “Found her.”

The awkwardness that settles afterward is thick enough to choke on, so I focus instead on the bundle in Soap’s arms. I look between him and Bee carefully.

“Can… can I meet him?”

Soap’s expression softens instantly.

Bee smiles and gently takes the wrapped pup from Soap’s arms, turning him slightly so I can see him better.

I catch onto the dynamic quickly. 

I can see him, but Bee needs to be the one in control.

Taking a careful step forward, I look down at Archie’s tiny face. He’s sleeping peacefully beneath his blanket, looking all peaceful and warm. He’s got Bee’s nose and Soap’s jawline somehow already visible in miniature. 

A perfect little mix of both of them.

Something painful twists in my chest.

Not jealousy. Just grief, for the time I lost.

I missed this. This huge, life-changing moment.

“He’s so small,” I whisper. My voice cracks halfway through the words, tears slipping free before I can stop them. “Beautiful.”

Soap practically glows with pride.

“He’s a braw lad,” he says, his accent thickening with emotion. “Keeps us busy, he does.”

Bee leans lightly against my shoulder, bringing him closer to me without actually physically handing him over.

“You’ll tell me everything when you’re ready, right?” she asks softly. “And I do mean, everything.”

I nod quickly, wiping at my face.

“I will. I promise.”

Behind me, Simon settles close enough that I can feel the steady warmth of him at my back. His hand comes to rest at my side, grounding me again as Bee takes a step back.

“We should head inside,” Price says after a moment, his voice cutting gently through the emotion hanging in the air.

The others murmur their agreement, and slowly, the group starts toward the house.

As we reach the porch steps, Bun glances back at me with a small smile.

“Welcome home, Boo.”

Epilogue

10 Years Later

“I’m honestly so happy that you agreed to let him stay here for the summer,” Mo says to me as I flip another burger on the grill. “He already looks like he’s having the time of his life.”

I grin, glancing toward Henry just in time to watch him get tackled by a swarm of children trying to wrestle him into the grass.

“Of course,” I say easily. “I’m just happy he got into college over here. Still blows my mind that he’s out of high school already,” I shake my head. “Feels like I blinked and suddenly he was grown.”

Mo laughs as she cracks open a beer. “You’re tellin’ me.”

“Wish you were over her too,” I admit. “Kinda sucks I’m only getting you for a few days.”

“God, me too,” Mo groans dramatically. “I was looking at townhouses around London, but Rosco’s still wrapped up in the omega program, training the new recruits and all that.”

She takes a sip of her beer, wrinkling her nose slightly. “Probably gonna be a few more years before he’s finally done with it.”

“I get it,” I say with a sympathetic nod. “I don’t think Simon would’ve retired as early as he did if it wasn’t for my little adventure.”

Mo snorts into her drink at the understatement.

“But the two of you have been married, what, four years now?”

“Five,” she corrects immediately.

I whistle softly. “Damn. Still newlyweds, then.” I bump her shoulder with mine. “He’ll figure out eventually that your best interests are his best interests.” 

She laughs, shaking her head.

Movement across the yard catches my eye.

“Aye! Thomas Riley!” I shout. “You know better than to be bitin’ people!”

My five-year-old immediately unlatches his teeth from Henry’s arm.

“Eh, it’s alright, Ma,” Henry calls back through the chaos. “He barely got me.”

I sigh dramatically. “Point is, he shouldn’t bitin’ people in the first place,” I mutter to Mo. My attention drifts toward Simon, wondering what he’s up to, and just like that, all the irritation drains right out of me.

He’s sitting with the other alphas nearby, Noelle perched on his knee while he talks. Every so often, she bounces impatiently against him while trying to joining the conversation, despite being all of three years old.

Mo follows my line of sight.

“She’s the one getting big,” she comments. “Couldn’t believe the size of her when you guys picked us up from the airport.” She squints towards Noelle. “You sure she’s only three?”

I laugh under my breath while continuing to tend to the grill. “Honestly? Sometimes I wonder myself. She’s growin’ like a weed.” I shake my head. “Poor Tommy is furious she’s almost taller than him already.”

Tommy suddenly abandons the pile of children and barrels toward me across the yard. Every time I look at him, all I can see is Simon. 

He got my dark hair, but everything else belongs to his father. Noelle, on the other hand, is the exact opposite. You wouldn’t know she was my child unless I said something. Everything from her cute blonde hair to her big brown eyes is all Simon. 

I finish the last burger and transfer it to the tray before shutting down the grill. Mo helps grab some nearby trays so we can carry the food over to the long tables set up across the yard.

Technically, everyone here was celebrating Henry graduating high school.

But honestly, with Mo and Nikolai around, it felt more like a family reunion than anything else. 

The only ones missing were…

As if summoned by the thought, two SUVs roll up the driveway.

I glance over toward Price and Nikolai, who are already making their way over. 

Then the passenger door swings open and a familiar face steps out.

“Rhea!” I cry out.

She’s barely out of the vehicle before I’m hurrying toward her.

Three pups end up spilling out after her, one little boy and two older girls, while the rest of her pack gets out of the second SUV, immediately moving to help their very pregnant omega.

“Oh my god, look at you,” I laugh, meeting her with open arms. “You look ready to pop. I can’t believe you came all this way. I would’ve thought your pack would’ve chained to a bed before letting you travel.”

“And miss this?” Rhea beams. “Never.”

“She prefers rope to chain," Nikolai comments, making us both laugh.

Rhea rubs her belly fondly as she waves him off. “I had to come see my kuschelbär and her little bärchens. It’s been too long.”

Her eyes flick toward the yard nervously. “Hopefully we’re not imposing.”

I pull back just enough to stare at her.

“Rhea, we practically built his place to hold a whole army.” I gesture toward the tables. “And your timing’s perfect. I literally just finished cooking.”

By the time everyone settles in, the entire yard is alive with noise. There’s laughter, conversations overlapping one another, and silverware clicking against plates. Children scream as they run around the yard, all blending together in one big blur.

For just a moment, I sit there, taking it all in.

Simon catches my eye from across the table, a soft smile tugging at his mouth as he watches Noelle attempt to feed pieces of burger to one of her dolls.

Our gaze lock. 

And just like that, everything settles.

Ten years. 

A full decade since we thought we’d never see each other again. Yet every day feels like that day we reunited.

Here we are, living in a future that once felt impossible.

A tug at my sleeve pulls me from my thoughts.

Tommy stands beside me with ketchup smeared across his face.

“Mama,” he asks hopefully, “can we have ice cream now?”

I laugh softly and wipe his face clean with my thumb despite his dramatic protests. 

“After everyone’s done eating, sweetheart.” I nod toward the yard. “Why don’t you go dit with Georgie and Charlie? Looks like Uncle Gaz and Uncle Soap are tellin’ stories again.”

His entire face lights up before he tears back across the yard.

George and Charles were Bun’s twins, the result of the heat cycle we’d all accidentally synced up on years ago.

Thomas had been my result from that whole debacle. 

Bee, meanwhile, ended up with her third pup, a little girl named Daisie.

At the time, the heat sync had been terrifying. Now, it was one of our favorite stories to laugh about. Especially because all three of us ended up pregnant together.

Bun’s twins arrived first after an emergency c-section nearly a month early. The rest of our pups followed not long after, all born within the span of a single, chaotic week.

Archie had naturally appointed himself leader of the younger pups from the second he was old enough to boss people around. His sisters, Maisie and Daisier, were never far behind him.

The three of them moved through the compound like the three musketeers.

Price and Red only had one pup, Theodore, who was Red’s pride and joy. He was not as outgoing as the rest of the pups, but far more intelligent than his pack siblings.

I sigh happily. My pack… My family…

It hadn’t all been easy.

The nightmares still come sometimes. Certain memories still hit hard enough to leave me shaken for days afterward. There were moments where I felt the instinct to pull away from everyone, even my own pups, just to keep them safe from the parts of me that still hurt.

I was still healing, but I was far better than I ever thought I’d be when I first came home.

Eventually, I did go to the treatment facility Price had recommended. I stayed far longer than any of us originally expected. More memories surfaced, making me regress for a while. I had to learn how to regulate myself without any help which was the hardest challenge.

Simon was there as much as was allowed, and Laswell also visited several times during my stay. I called her, needing to give her more details, especially once the investigations into Shadow Company and Ormond’s operations began to fully unravel.

In the end, I’d say it was worth it.

Shadow Company, though partially disbanded at the time of my rescue, became fully disoperational. Many of the remaining members ended up imprisoned alongside several wealthy clients and public figures that were connected to Ormond’s operation.

The exposure also forced the existence of prime alphas and omegas into the public eye.

Like with everything, chaos initially ensued.

Then activism.

Then change.

Before the pups came along, Simon and I worked closely with several prime advocacy groups. We stayed away from the research side of things, but we helped support primes who’d been exposed or displayed after everything became public.

With Laswell’s help, and occasionally KorTac’s, we ended up helping hundreds of primes across the world find housing, safety, and the support they needed to live normal lives.

I smile quietly to myself as I watch Price and Nikolai talking with Rhea and her packmates across the yard.

They’re all maskless now, something that’s been a thing for years, but still feels strange seeing it. Gray streaks through their hair and beards these days, but honestly? I think it suits them.

Nikolai catches my eye and winks at me, the gesture making me roll my eyes with a quiet laugh. Even after all these years, the cheeky bastard still loved pushing Simon’s buttons.

 But he was also one of our strongest allies when it came to transporting primes. His network of safe houses and contacts saved more lives than I could count.

Simon’s arm wraps around my waist, pulling me into his side before pressing a kiss to my temple.

“You’re thinking too hard,” he murmurs. 

“Am I?” I ask, leaning my head against his shoulder. “I was just thinking about how much has changed.”

He hums, his gaze floating around the pack around us. “Aye. That it has.”

I tilt my head to the side, kissing his shoulder with a small smile. “Good news is, we have an au pair for the summer,” I tease, jerking my head to where Henry is currently sneaking Noelle and Tommy some ice cream.

Simon snorts quietly. 

“Poor bastard doesn’t know what he’s signed up for.”

“No one ever does,” I drawl.

The afternoon sun filters through the trees surrounding the compound, washing everything in a warm light. Children’s laughter echoes through the yard while somewhere Soap and Gaz argue over the correct way to tell Jack and the Beanstalk to the kids. 

Bee’s giggling with Bun, as always, but this time Mo joins in with them, creating a symphony of giggles that warms my heart. 

Price looks exhausted next to Nikolai as they watch over everything, scanning trees as nonchalantly as they can while they pass a flask back and forth.

Rhea’s girls are chasing Archie through the grass, trying to enlist the twin’s help to grab him.

Red and Theo lay sprawled out on the grass, taking a brief nap while the KorTac alphas help to start cleaning things up.

The ache in my chest doesn’t come from grief anymore. It seems to settle with the weight of the love for my pack. 

Something I thought would never be achievable for me, now part of my daily life. I used to think strength meant being able to survive alone. Enduring whatever the world threw at me without breaking. 

But being here now, surrounded by the people who carried me when I couldn’t carry myself, I finally understand what strength actually looks like. 

It’s not the absence of fear. It’s this. Family, trust, healing… People choosing to stay and help despite how hard it gets.

Simon squeezes my waist gently, grounding me back in the moment, and I look up at him with a soft smile. 

For so long, I thought I was trapped in the shadow of terrible men. Now, surrounded by the people I love, I realize something else entirely.

I’m proudly standing in the shadow of strength.

THE END 💜

PREVIOUS

A/N: Had to do the dumb thing and end it with the title somehow hahaha 💜

Genuinely, genuinely, genuinely, thank you so much for reading this fic. It came out almost two years ago to this day (June 6, 2024) and has been such an incredible journey. I am both super sad and super relieved to bring this story to a close. Hope you all enjoyed a peek into the pack's future. 💜 I had so much fun coming up with each pair's little family. Teared up the first couple of times I wrote the epilogue because I was just so happy for everyone, ahaha. 💜💜

I'm working on a typeset for this fic so you can print it out for yourself if you're interested, but it will most likely be posted on my Tumblr so please follow me there if you're interested!

Ghost - January 1st

She’s going to kill me. 

My beautiful, brave, strong omega. She’s going to fucking kill me.

I thought this when I first met her. And now, as I stare at the body in front of me, bloodied and torn to shreds, I know it to be true.

When she finds out what I am, what I’ve been hiding…

…she’s going to fucking kill me.

Boo - Present Day

It’s almost terrifying how back-to-normal everything goes after the holidays. We’ve been back at base for about two weeks now, and it’s like nothing ever happened. Or, at least, what I went through.

At first, I’m a little grateful for the return to normalcy. Everyone falls back into their routines, the new recruits that they were starting to train taking up most of the guys’ focus. 

But as the days pass, the more this strange, hollow sense of disconnection begins to grow in my gut.

I mostly feel fine.

But sometimes, when I’m alone, I catch myself replaying the attack in my head. I think about what I could have done differently. How we all missed something like this… 

I’m left feeling… not really scared. Just… off.

It doesn’t help that Simon is the only one really acting differently since the trip.

It’s not super obvious. Not in a way that anyone else seems to clock. 

He’s still going to work, taking me to our weekly workouts, doing his early morning routine with the guys.

Everything he does feels the same, but the quiet is back. That heavy, guarded silence that reminds me of when we first met.

When every word felt measured.

When I couldn’t tell if he was pulling away or holding himself back.

I catch him watching me when he thinks I’m not looking. His jaw is tight, eyes tracking me like he’s assessing a threat that isn’t there or one that already passed.

He’s wearing his full mask a lot more now, sometimes not even taking it off when we go to bed.

And the worst part?

No one says a word.

Whatever happened at the cabin has been buried so deeply, it’s like it never happened.

Everything is back to normal again.

And I don’t think I’ve ever felt less normal.

It’s an early Friday morning when everything seems to come to a head. 

The smell of sweat, dirt, and the remnants of paintballs lingers in the air on the training field this morning.

It makes my nose twitch.

The research team dragged us out here at the crack of dawn, and not even Simon’s thick jacket can keep me from shivering.

The simulation they’re running today seems rather simple. They’re having the alphas navigate through a course littered with obstacles while dodging gunfire from the other alphas. 

The goal is to get to the building at the center of the course and extract the omega waiting inside without either of the two getting hit.

The recent testing has shown significant improvement on the alpha’s physical performance, and no doubt the research team wants to see that in action, but I think they’re also probably looking to see how these results affect the pack as a whole. 

The research team told us that it was always going to be a surprise for the alphas which omega was going to be in the center, so they may or may not be paired up with their own omega.

I silently hope that Simon gets me, because he didn’t come to bed last night, and I find myself longing to be next to him, despite acting like everything’s still okay.

Currently, it’s Bee sitting inside the building, and Gaz is working his way to her. I watch from the sidelines with the other girls and the research team as he maneuvers quickly through the chaos.

The guys seem relentless towards one another, not easing up on their fellow packmates. Gaz, much to his credit, doesn’t seem bothered by this. He ducks low, using cover like it was made just for him, dodging paintballs like he’s in the matrix.

A burst of red splatters near his shoulder, but it doesn’t slow him down. Within moments, he’s through the door of the building, and then just as quick, he’s hustling Bee out from another exit. 

Neither of them ends up taking a scratch.

“Clean run,” I hear one of the researchers mutter, jotting down their notes.

My name is called out next, and I yawn, removing my jacket before making my way through the field. One of the researchers leads me to the building, making sure my path doesn’t allow me to be seen or immediately smelled.

I sit down in the chair that’s in the middle of the room and wait for the simulation to begin. The walls are made of a thin plywood, so every sound from outside easily bleeds through. 

Bursts of paint fire rattle off almost immediately, making me lightly jump. Commands are barked as boots pound against the dirt. Price’s voice is clear to catch right away, followed by Gaz’s.

So either Soap or Ghost are going to be coming in, and by the string of smothered curses that come from right outside the door, I have my answer.

Soap.

He sweeps inside, a flurry of shots hitting the wall behind him. He catches my eye before scanning around us. He jerks his head to the door opposite the one he came from.

“C’mon, lass.”

I get up, following him closely until he guides us to duck behind nearby cover. His hand holds firm around my arm as we start to weave through the field to get to the side of the course instead of down the center.

With every step, he’s checking corners, crouching low, and making sure we’re staying out of sight.

The snap of paintfire cracks nearby, making me flinch again. Soap, on the other hand, doesn’t slow. He shoves me gently toward cover, then peeks around a corner.

Only to freeze.

When I peek up to follow his gaze, my breath catches.

Ghost.

He’s standing out in the open, still as a statue.

God, his mask is so intimidating when you’re on the receiving end of that cold, harsh stare of his.

It pins me in place, more threatening than any weapon could be.

Soap tenses, shifting his stance, moving to pull me back the way we came, when movement flickers on our other side.

Price steps out from behind cover, quiet as a shadow, cutting off our retreat. Another man who’s terrifying to be on the opposite side of, I don’t care what the other girls think.

My heart pounds in my chest as I try to look for a way out of this. I can’t help but let out a little wave of fear as we stand caught between two men I’d rather not be right now.

Soap yanks me behind him, his shoulder square as he shifts to now shield me. His head snaps between Price and Ghost, still calculating a way out of this while staying on the defensive.

I know that this drill is probably blown, an instant fail, but that’s not what makes my pulse start to climb. It’s the scent that hits the air.

It’s aggressive, and completely unsuppressed… the smell of a feral alpha.

My head snaps to Ghost, getting a better look at him now. He’s practically vibrating. 

Every line of his body is strung tight, tension rolling off of him so heavy that I can practically feel it in my clenched teeth.

His eyes are locked onto mine from behind the mask. His head is angled down, breathing raspy as he glares at me from behind the mask. 

Every ounce of me freaks out, even my omega is screaming at me to get away, that he’s not safe. 

A sound breaks from behind his mask, confirming just how feral he is.

The hairs on the back of my neck and down my arms raise instantly as I try to back up, only to find myself pressed up against a wall that’s behind me.

Price locks onto Ghost, his voice cutting sharply through the air.

“Ghost!”

The masked man doesn’t even twitch, still locked onto me, not bothered by the others. The paintball gun in his hand drops as he takes a step towards me, looming over Soap and I even more. 

I can’t look away. For the first time in my life, I don’t run or fight.

I freeze. 

My feet feel like they’re digging into the ground, like he’s got me hypnotized.

Soap follows Ghost’s actions, dropping his gun, almost to see if that appeases him, before raising his hands.

“Simon,” he tries, voice scarily soft.

Nothing.

Bootsteps scuff the dirt. Gaz rounds the corner, confusion written all over his face. He opens his mouth to speak, but Price cuts him off with a command I can’t even process. The words blurred into static.

I’m prey caught in the gaze of a predator. My breath stutters in my chest, fear freely rolling off of me as my body locks up tight, every instinct screaming but refusing to move.

The alphas’ voices rise, arguing, but it all falls away to just Ghost and I. His next growl is deeper, like thunder rolling through a field.

Soap’s hand closes tight around my arm. It jerks me out of my paralysis, my whole body jerking back to life.

Wrong move.

Ghost’s eyes snap to something sharper, pupils shrinking. The burn behind them is fierce, and the snarl he lets out shakes through me like a shockwave.

Then his voice hits.

“Don’t. Move.”

The command cracks in the air like a whip. Everything goes still.

Price freezes.

Soap freezes.

Gaz even stops mid-step.

My breath wavers as realization hits me like a fist to the ribs.

He just commanded them. With an alpha command.

And they obeyed.

Simon is a prime.

The fact rings in my head, over and over.

A prime.

The alpha of alphas. A rare, unstoppable force that’s born to command others without lifting a finger. 

Everything makes sense. The past couple of months play in my head in just mere seconds. The way he’s been so coiled up, like a storm that’s wild and barely leashed.

But the leash is gone now, whatever it was.

And the storm’s about to hit.

Fear overtakes me as I think about what he might be capable of doing. Not to me, but to the others. He’s completely gone, his alpha clearly having taken over, and it looks like he’s about to pounce.

My heart hammers in my chest so hard it hurts. 

I know what I have to do.

…But we can’t do it here. Not in front of everyone else.

So I do the stupid thing.

I run.

He follows me without hesitation.

My lungs burn, boots tearing through the dirt as I make my way through the chainlink fence and into the trees that surround the base. My body merely follows instinct, knowing what needs to be done, what my omega is screaming for.

Part of me feels giddy that this is finally happening, but it's quickly overridden by the need for self-preservation as I hear my feral alpha running after me. 

Branches lash at my arms, snapping across my skin as I push deeper into the woods. I have to get as much distance as possible, give us as much time as possible…

Behind me, a growl rolls out. It’s low and primal, barely even human anymore, vibrating through the ground and up my legs.

It’s a sound meant to freeze prey, and my instincts scream to obey it, but I can’t stop. Not yet.

Leaves whip against my face, logs blur beneath my feet as I jump over them. I don’t dare to look back. I don’t want to see him chasing me, can’t bear to see him like that. I know it’ll just cave instantaneously. 

I’m also far from stupid. I know can’t outrun him. That’s a very obvious fact. And lord knows, I don’t even want to. 

I want what happens next.

He’s getting closer, though. He’s close enough that he can reach out at any moment and grab me, but it’s like he’s playing with me, testing how far I’ll go before giving in.

When the trees open into a clearing, I realize that this is it. This is as far as I can get.

So… I let my stride falter.

He rams into me a heartbeat later.

The impact rips an involuntary scream from my throat as the ground rises up to meet me. Dirt and leaves scrape my cheek as his weight crashes over me. He’s quick to press me down, pinning me like the prey I am.

My survival instincts have me clawing at the ground. Tree bark and grit get under my nails as I try to wrangle myself free, but I end up getting nowhere. 

He leans forward, getting right next to my ear as he lets out another growl. The way it vibrates through my bones has me submitting instantly as my omega stirs beneath my skin.

I tremble, caught somewhere between terror and some dark, twisting need.

“Omega.”

The word doesn’t even seem like it’s spoken. More like it’s branded into me. My body shudders in response, answering an ancient call I didn’t even think I knew.

“Alpha…” I breathe. My voice is wrecked and smaller than I’d ever care to admit.

Above me, I can feel Ghost adjust. He reeks of adrenaline and feral hunger, and it just serves to stir my need even more. His scent slowly starts to change into something softer… more familiar…

Simon.

It’s like a piece of him breaks through, letting me know he’s there, he’s okay. Ghost’s mask rubs against the back of my neck with another small growl. There’s a pause before it’s tossed next to me, where I can see it.

I twist slightly, moving so I can turn my head some more, able to catch a glimpse of the man above me.

Simon is staring down at me, but his eyes are wrong. Dark, pinpricked, still feral.

“S-Simon…?” My voice cracks.

It’s like tossing a match into dry grass.

The alpha above me starts tearing at me. His hands fist into my clothes, yanking and shredding anything that doesn’t give way fast enough. 

My breath catches at the violence of it. Shock flares in my gut, only to melt away instantly into a fierce, electric thrill.

Yes, yes. This is what I want, I feel my omega calling out to the alpha.

He starts taking off more of his clothes, like they’re painful to wear. When his hands finally find my skin, heat explodes between us. The spark of pleasure I was feeling turning into a full, roaring flame in the blink of an eye.

It coils in my gut, taking over my senses completely.

“Please,” I find myself sobbing, voice ragged. “Alpha… Need you…”

In the next moment, he’s pressing me down, keeping me pinned down the way he needs before his cock is nudging against my entrance.

The amount of slick I feel him rub against startles me. I didn’t realize just how worked up I was, how much my body was responding to him. I stay still, finding myself clenching down against nothing, as if trying to coax him to fill me already.

That’s all he needs, easily grabbing my hips and sliding into me in the next breath. A broken cry rips out of me as my body strains to take him. It’s too much, too fast, but I don’t want him to stop either.

He keeps me pressed down, hips grinding me into the earth below. His breath rasps in my ear, growls spilling out with every exhale, primal and unrestrained.

“M-mine,” he fights to snarl out.

Tears slip hot and fast from my eyes. He’s claiming me, it’s finally happening, what I’ve been waiting for.

“Yours,” I speak the word, as if sealing my fate.

My body is molten. I feel hot and slick everywhere, like I’m nothing more than nerve endings and trembling flesh. His thumb finds my clit, circling and rubbing, as if demanding my body to open up more for him.

A fresh gush of slick spills between us as I clamp around him. It’s just enough to ease the last of the brutal stretch of his cock inside of me.

He chuffs, as if pleased by my complete surrender. 

Then he starts to move.

It can only be considered sex in a technical sense. This is a claim. A true, feral claim for both of us. 

It’s ruthless, punishing… Nothing like I’ve ever felt from him before… but I find myself completely addicted to it. 

The way his hands clamp down on my hips, knowing there’ll be bruises there for days, makes my eyes roll to the back of my skull. I’m dragged up and down his cock, each motion perfectly controlled by his strength, grinding me exactly how he wants.

The second I bolted, I knew this was where I’d end up, accepting his claim in whatever way he wanted to give.

Against the harsh thrusts, I force my trembling body to tilt, baring my throat. My neck stretches, making me even more vulnerable. 

My body goes slack, every muscle surrendering.

“Alpha,” I whimper. “Please… W-want your mark…” The words spill out pathetic and desperate, but they’re everything. My permission, my offering, my way of telling the bit of Simon that’s there that I’m okay.

I want this.

He rips himself from me without warning. I gasp at the sudden emptiness, clenching around nothing, a sound of protest catching in my throat.

Then he flips me.

I’m tossed onto my back like it’s nothing. I hit the ground hard enough to see stars, disoriented just long enough for him to slam back into me, sharp and unrelenting.

The world collapses into sensation. His weight crushes me into the earth, cock splitting me open. The relentless twirl of his thumb over my clit makes pleasure surge over me, blurring everything around me.

I’m shaking, sobbing, clawing at him as heat floods through me. It almost feels as if I’m in heat with how hot and dizzy I feel. 

An orgasm tears out of me with a violent shudder, my body arching helplessly as his knot starts catching at my entrance.

Another clue to this whole prime alpha thing that just completely went over my head.

After a few rough tries, the knot gets slammed into me and immediately starts to swell. The pressure has my vision going completely white.

My hands scramble for something solid to help keep me grounded in reality. They settle on his arms, raking down hard enough to draw blood without realizing it.

Red streaks bloom under my nails as I dig in deeper, desperate to find that anchor while everything spirals away.

Simon’s knot locks us together, and I swear I go completely blind for a few seconds. My lungs seize, pulling in frantic gasps as he shifts above me.

He lowers himself just slightly, licking up and down my neck. I wait with bated breath for it to happen.

I want this more than anything. It’s time. I’m ready.

“M-mark,” I whimper, frustrated that he hasn’t given it to me already.

I bare myself wider, every inch of my throat exposed, trying to coax him. The sound that leaves me isn’t human, a reflection of the feral energy he’s emitting. 

He pulls back, jaw flexing as his teeth spread open dangerously, almost as if it’s unhinging like a snake. His hand grips my head, holding me in place. His fangs are on full display, and there’s a part of me that can’t help but admire how large his canines are.

Large, strong alpha. Mine, mine, mine, my omega chants.

Then he strikes. It’s fast and terrifying. I’m expecting the crook of my neck, but his teeth close around my throat.

Everything stops.

My breath. My thoughts. The world.

I died. I had to have died. I’m absolutely dead.

The world feels exactly like that moment when you’re driving in the rain, and you go under a bridge. That short moment where everything stops. Goes silent. There’s just a small bit of peace against the loud downpour outside.

Every instinct crumbles.

Every thought crumbles.

There’s an explosion in my chest as there’s just an overwhelming sense of… rightness. This. This is where I belong. This is what I’ve been living for. This is my purpose.

An omega, fully submitting to their alpha. 

A flood of heat and emotion wells up through me, and I swear I can feel something in my chest pull toward him, trying to move the heat to him.

The silence doesn’t last.

Just as quickly as everything went still, everything comes back full force.

Pleasure.

Pain.

Ecstasy so raw it feels like I’m being torn apart from the inside out.

My eyes sting with tears I can’t even feel spilling, my breath breaking on a sob as my alpha eases back just a fraction.

He looks down at me, my blood coating his mouth. My instincts flare white-hot, and without question, I submit to them. Before he can go anywhere, say or do anything, my hands shoot up. I fist the back of his neck, effectively scruffing him.

I drag him down as I lift up, turning his neck to the side. I force him to bare his neck to me, force him to submit to me with a snarl of my own. The second he’s limp, my teeth are locking around his scent gland without any thought.

Something in me snaps. Not breaking, but locking into place, like a key sliding into the only door it was ever meant to open. I feel something quickly build between us.

And then it hits.

A flood of feelings that aren’t mine crashes through me.

Pleasure, confusion, concern, a thousand tangled threads. All of it’s muted, blurred by the overwhelming bliss that’s radiating through every nerve I have.

People had described the feeling of getting marked by an alpha one of two ways. Either they had described it as a formality, jusy a bite and nothing more. Or, it was like the most intense orgasm of you life. 

I realize now that both ways are wrong.

This isn’t just simple pleasure. This is something soul-deep. Like someone’s set my very essence on fire.

“A-alpha…” My voice trembles like the rest of my body.

The haze of heat and instinct starts to thin, just enough for me to recognize that Simon’s trembling above me. His whole body is shuddering, muscles locked tight, breath coming out ragged as his knot pulses between us.

He rolls his hips again, and it makes me cry out, because the pleasure just doesn’t stop. My need and his loop together.

It’s dizzying. I can feel him.

Not just his body, but him.

His release and mine tangle together.

I break with a strangled moan, my head throwing itself back as another wave crashes through me. He spills into me again, and we both moan out.

We’re both spent and panting, our bodies slick and shaking. The cool morning air clings to my damp skin, a sharp contrast to the fever that had just consumed us.

“You’re mine,” he rasps, like he needs to hear it out loud to believe it.

“Yours,” I manage, nodding faintly. My head lolls to the side as exhaustion drags heavily at my limbs.

The bond hums between us, pulsing like a second heartbeat under my skin. It thrums in my skull, in my veins, until it’s too much.

Too hot. Too loud. Too everything.

My body convulses slightly, nerves still sparking as the last aftershocks from my orgasm roll through me. Each one wrings me out further until I’m trembling on the edge of something I can’t hold anymore.

My vision blurs, black creeping in at the corners.

“S-Simon…” 

His name leaves my mouth, broken and slurred. My hand twitches against him, trying to anchor myself, keep myself here, but it’s no use.

The world is shifting, tilting out from under me.

Panic floods through me, and something more. Something that isn’t mine slams into me just as hard.

Through this connection we’ve made, fear and desperation spike. It’s sharp enough to steal the breath from my lungs and drag me down into the darkness faster.

I think I hear him say my name, out loud, over and over, but it’s already distant, muffled. Physical sensation slips away until it’s nothing but the bond left between us, a taut wire humming with everything he feels.

You’re scaring him, let him know you’re okay. Say something. 

My mouth opens, trying to say anything… but I’m just so tired. My heart reaches for him, a pulse of warmth through the tether.

He’s saying something again, but I can’t hear it. His fear chases me into the dark, the last thing I feel before I fall under.

The fire is so much taller now. It’s brighter and fuller than I’ve ever seen before. It feels like it’s burning the way it was always meant to. The warmth rolls over my skin, soothing me. I try to remember the last time I felt cold here, but the memory slips from my grasp the longer I sit here, soaking in its heat. 

Simon sits behind me, one arm wrapped around my waist while the other rubs slow, steady lines up and down my arm. 

The woods around us feel different as well. The dark isn’t quite so pitch-black anymore. 

Or maybe that’s just because he’s here. With him behind me, nothing really feels big enough to fear right now.

I tilt my head back and look up at him. His eyes catch the firelight, warm and soft in the way they only ever are when it’s just us.

Home.

That’s what this feels like. 

We lean in at the same time, sharing a kiss that’s slow and deep and steadying. His hand slides up the front of my neck, thumb brushing my jaw in a way that has me sighing. When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine for a breath.

Then his voice changes. 

“I need you to wake up for me,” he murmurs, so gentle it doesn’t match the words at all.

I blink, confused. My brow furrows. “What?”

“It’s okay,” he whispers, thumb brushing my cheek. I can feel it, but it’s wrong… why can’t I see him doing it…

“I’m right here. But you’ve gotta wake up for me, love.”

A flicker of unease slips under my ribs. The fire crackles, a little too sharp. The woods shift, shadows stretching where they hadn’t been a moment ago.

Confusion swells into something heavier, and before I can reach for him again, his panic crashes over me.

The fire vanishes right in front of me, and everything goes black. I feel myself moving, but everything feels odd, foggy.

Not safe, my omega tells me. 

Exhaustion rolls over me, making me sink further and further into the darkness. I should be panicking, fighting off my instincts more. But instead, I let exhaustion take over. The familiar haze of ferality sinks into my bones and I surrender to it.

Fear and panic that’s not mine tries to push at me, but I push it away. 

I take care of us, my omega says.

And I believe it.

A/N: How we feelin? We survivin, lol? Sorry for such the long wait for this chapter, again the next one should be out in about a week, life has just gotten crazy. The rest of the story is planned out and about 50% written, but I'm making sure that it's all finished before posting it.

Thank you all again for all of the comments and love on this story, it's helped keep me going while I deal with real life drama. 💜 Wishing you all the best, see you in the next chapter!

The sun dipped behind distant hills as the SUV crept down the long driveway toward the manor. The place rose out of the valley like a relic. Wide stone walls, dark windows, and rows of oaks shadowing the path made the place feel out of place from the rest of the town’s quaint sprawl.

On the front porch stood a blonde woman with her arms folded, a cardigan wrapped tight around her shoulders. She didn’t move as the vehicle slowed, watching it park in her driveway.

Price was the first out, his hat tipped low, eyes sunken from lack of sleep. “Appreciate you taking us in,” he said, offering a hand. His voice carried that low rasp of someone running on caffeine and stubbornness.

The woman took his hand with a firm grip. “‘Course,” she said. Her voice carried a soft, somewhat familiar Southern drawl, but there was steel under it. Her gaze shifted past him to Ghost as he climbed out of the driver’s seat. 

The moment she saw him, something in her face changed. There was a hint of recognition. Not of him specifically, but of what he was to Boo.

“Damn,” she murmured. “Y’all look like you’ve been chewed up and spit out.”

Ghost didn’t answer, just nodded once and adjusted the strap of his duffel. The dark circles beneath his eyes were dramatic even under the light of the porch.

The woman stepped aside, pushing the door open. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s get y’all settled before you start haunting the place.”

She chuckles to herself before leading the two men in.

Inside, the manor smelled faintly of coffee, lemon polish, and something floral that had long since soaked into the wood. The hallways were neat, the furniture expensive, but lived-in. Blankets draped over couches, a toy truck was tipped on its side near the stairs, small little details that showed the manor was more than just looks, it was a home.

Price thanked her again as she led them to the guest rooms upstairs. Ghost dropped his bag on the bed with a dull thud and didn’t bother to unpack before heading straight back downstairs.

“I’ll give you some space,” the woman told Price, before disappearing into another part of the large manor.

By the time the woman rejoined them, the dining room had been transformed into a makeshift command center. 

Files from Laswell were spread across the table, laptops open to maps and satellite images. Coffee cups sat half-drunk and mostly forgotten between reports.

She leaned up against the doorframe, watching the two of them work.

Ghost stood hunched over the table, unmoving except for his hand dragging across a trackpad. Price lingered nearby, rubbing his jaw, eyes scanning but not really landing on anything.

“We’ve gone through every checkpoint, every report from the locals,” Price muttered. “There’s not a single trace of her.”

“Then we’re missing something,” Ghost said.

His voice was flat yet raw at the same time.

He leaned forward, elbows braced on the table, eyes flickering from map to photo like he could will a clue into existence. “She didn’t just vanish.”

The steady hum of laptop fans was the only sound in the room. Price exhaled slowly and sat, elbows resting on the table beside a crumpled mission report.

“You should rest,” the woman said finally. “Both of you. You can’t track anyone running on fumes.”

Neither man moved.

The doorbell rang. 

The woman pushed herself off the wall with a sigh and padded toward the front door, cardigan slipping slightly off one shoulder.

The second she opened it, a small voice chirped. “Mama!”

She softened instantly, tone melting into a motherly warmth. “Hi, baby,” she murmured with a smile.

“Mo,” a man greets.

“Rosco,” Mo greets back with a nod. “Come on in, they’re back here.”

Mo walks back into the room, a blonde boy on her hip, wide eyes staring at the strangers in his house, while curling up against her neck.

Rosco followed behind, his presence filling the space in a quieter, steadier way than the soldiers that were already inside.

All three men exchanged nods and quiet, mumbled greetings. Rosco’s gaze lingered a second longer on Ghost, taking him in, but not saying what he very much would like to.

He clears his throat a little. “Thought y’all might want some help,” he said finally. “I’m familiar with the area. Probably less biased than any witnesses you’ve got.”

Price’s eyes narrowed slightly. “What do you mean, biased?”

Rosco hesitated, glancing briefly at Mo. She furrowed her brows slightly and gave him a quick nod, as if giving him permission to continue.

“Because the cops are on Shadow Company’s payroll…” he says, slow and unsure. Like he figured the men knew, but weren’t addressing it for some reason.

The silence that followed hit like a gunshot.

Ghost’s head tilted slowly, eyes lowering on Rosco. “Say that again,” he said, voice low and chillingly calm.

Rosco did his best not to flinch. “Half the precinct’s bought, maybe more. Won’t file reports, won’t follow leads unless Shadow gives the word.” His jaw tightened. “They’ve been running things here for a long time. ‘Specially when it comes to omegas.”

Henry shifted slightly in Mo’s arms, and she took it as an opportunity to remove him from the tension in the room with a small, “Excuse me, gentleman.”

There’s a few beats of silence as the sound of her footsteps recedes into the manor.

“She could be anywhere,” Ghost said coldly. “They’ve probably covered every track.”

He starts to spiral, eyes lost on the piles of documents, looking at words that mean nothing now. Boo’s own words come back to him.

“My choice of words were ‘yessir’ and ‘no sir’. Anything besides that usually led to more issues for me.”

“...you know how they have it in with the law, so there wasn’t nothin’ I could do afterward.”

Price finally places a firm hand on Ghost’s shoulder, snapping him out of his thoughts. “We’ll find her,” said as a statement, not encouragement.

Ghost shook his head. “It was right in front of us this whole time.”

“And we have no time to dwell on that.”

Rosco clears his throat again, breaking the tension and doing his best not to overstep with the two alphas. “I’ve got a few folks who still owe me favors,” he starts slowly before gaining a bit more confidence. “People Shadow don’t bother watching. Truck stops, freight yards, back routes… People who have most likely seen something without realizing that they have.”

He straightens a little as the two alphas give him the air to talk. “Murphy can help, too. If there’s a trail, he may be able to sniff out anything they failed to cover up.”

Price nodded. “Alright, good. Let’s go through some routes and contacts. Simon, get some rest.”

“Negative.”

“That was an order, Lieutenant. See you in eight.”

Mo looks down at her wrist before addressing the phantom in the doorway. “You made it six,” she says, lowering her arm. “Longer than I expected.” 

It’s dark outside, but not quite the deep, suffocating black that indicates the early hours. The kind of dark where the world hasn’t fully gone to sleep yet. It’s just quieter.

A familiar bottle of whiskey sits loose in her hand, her phone rests in the other. It’s screen casting up onto the large TV across from her.

Shaky footage plays, showing her and Boo, younger and louder.

Mo finally glances over her shoulder.

Ghost stands in the doorway, not saying anything.

She jerks her chin and pats the couch beside her. “C’mon, Ghost,” she says with a small giggle. “You’re making the place look haunted.”

He doesn’t move.

Mo shrugs like she expected that, taking a long swig straight from the bottle before setting it against her thigh. “Suit yourself.”

She flicks to the next video. 

Music bursts through the speakers. It’s loud and obnoxious, playing over some footage of what appears to be a phone propped up on a table at a bar. Boo is in the center of it, already squared up with a group of alphas twice her size.

“Nova,” Mo says, hanging off her arm, clearly trying to pull her back.

The alpha says something that the phone doesn’t pick up, but Boo does. Her expression shifts instantly, eyes going feral.

Right as the beat drops, she swings. Her fist connects with the biggest one’s jaw, snapping his head back before he even registers the hit, making him crumple.

Mo breaks out into laughter, shoulders shaking as she leans forward. “Oh my God—” she breathes, wiping at her eye. “I always forget how hard that first guy falls.” 

She points lazily at the screen. “Look at the way he just drops.”

The video loops, and Mo pauses it, her laughter starting to die down.

“Ah,” she sighs, eyes lingering on the frozen frame. “What a wild one she was.”

Ghost’s gaze doesn’t waver from the screen.

“She still is,” he says quietly.

Mo hums, tipping her head side to side like she’s weighing that. “Yeah,” she draws, taking another sip of whiskey. “Bet she is.”

She flicks her finger, bringing up the next video. 

It’s a compilation of Boo riding horses set to Pretty Little Devil. The horse's hooves sync up to the beat before it switches to a video of Boo removing her jacket in the snow, steam billowing around her from her body heat.

“These are all the silly little TikTok videos I’d make when I was bored. At least, of her,” Mo explains to Ghost. “It’s one of my little doing-nothing projects. I document everything, take a million photos and videos. When I have time, I get them all organized so I can watch them later.”

Another swipe.

Now it’s Mo wrapped around the neck of a massive bull, grinning like it’s just an oversize puppy, while Boo stands a few feet back, hands on her hips.

“That fucker is a menace,” Boo drawls on the screen. “How he puts up with you is a damn mystery.”

The light from the TV flickers across Mo’s face, catching the way her smile doesn’t quite hold.

Ghost steps further into the room, but doesn’t take a seat. Mo notices, but doesn’t comment on it.

Instead, she lets the next video play.

It’s Boo again, this time quieter. She’s sitting on a fence post, staring off into the distance. The video picks up the world around her. The occasional bug or bird making their presence known. 

Mo watches it for a long time, letting it loop.

“She’d get like that sometimes,” she murmurs. “Real quiet. Like she was somewhere else entirely.”

Ghost’s voice is low. “Planning.”

Mo glances at him, something like approval in her eyes. “Yeah,” she says. “Something like that.”

Silence stretches between the two as the video keeps looping.

Mo exhales slowly, leaning her head back against the couch and closing her eyes. “She’s gonna be okay.”

Ghost doesn’t answer right away.

“You don’t know that,” he says eventually.

“I do,” she replies easily. 

Her eyes open again, but she doesn’t look at him yet. “Did you know she’d been sent there before? The Shadow facility.”

Ghost's head lifts slightly. “No,” he says carefully.

Mo lets out a long, slow breath through her nose. “Figures. She hardly told me ‘bout it.”

She adjusts the bottle in her hand before taking another sip. “After Noah passed… Nova lost it. Not all at once, just…” She vaguely gestures. “...bit by bit.”

She shifts in her seat slightly before continuing. “She had a temper on her already, but after that?” She lets out a breath. “She was just… mean. Wouldn’t hardly listen to a damn thing anyone said.”

A tired smile tugs at her lips. “Kinda admired it, honestly. But that kind of attitude doesn’t last long ‘round here.”

Ghost’s jaw tightens.

“Dave didn’t appreciate the change in her behavior. Said she needed to be ‘fixed’...” The word sits heavily in her mouth. “So, he sent her off to the Shadows. Made a point of sayin’ he didn’t want her used for breedin’, just wanted her ‘attitude adjusted’.”

Mo’s fingers curl around the neck of the bottle.

“And boy,” she murmurs, “did they do just that…”

She sniffles slightly, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. When she speaks again, it's clear she’s fighting off the urge to cry. “She never told me what they did,” she says. “Just came back… different.”

Ghost doesn’t move.

Mo shifts again, curling her leg beneath her. “She found a way out,” she continues. “Came back to Dave, beggin’ for forgiveness, and then kept her head down.” Her voice dips. “She was quiet, wouldn’t say a damn word unless she had to.”

Her thumb starts picking at the label on the bottle.

“She wouldn’t sleep unless she could see the door,” Mo says. “Wouldn’t eat until Dave did. Flinched if you moved too fast.” She shakes her head. “All sorts of weird shit she didn’t do before.”

The room seems to get smaller the more she talks.

“Took months,” she goes on. “Months before she started to seem like herself again. Was little things at first. Snappin’ at people, rollin’ her eyes…”

Mo’s lips twitch in a quick smile.

“It was all going good,” she says before giving a small shrug. “And then she went and bit Jackson.”

Ghost tenses slightly.

“Ripped out that fucker’s gland like it was nothin’.” She tilts the bottle, realizes it’s empty, and sets it aside her on the couch.

“After that… well. You know the rest. Jailed up, then shipped overseas.”

She finally meets his eyes.

“To you.”

They share a long, painful look before Mo blinks, looking away.

“So,” Mo says, finishing off her thought. “This ain’t new for her. She ain’t the type to easily give up… she’ll come back to you.”

Ghost’s gaze shifts back to the screen, staring at the picture of his mate.

I’ll make sure of it, he thinks.

Three Months Later

The desert heat clung to everything. Dust was right along there with it, on the trucks and men that were currently in the shade of an old awning.

Ghost’s mask was damp with sweat, eyes on the tablet in Alejandro’s hands. They scan the security footage Laswell just sent them. A grainy figure slipped through the edge of the screen. Their hood is up, face hidden, and they’ve got a slight limp.

“That’s her,” Ghost said immediately, voice tight.

Rudy glanced over Alejandro’s shoulder. “You sure? The footage isn’t—”

“It’s her,” Ghost snapped, sharper than he meant to. The muscle in his jaw ticked as he watched Boo vanish off-screen.

Alejandro didn’t argue. “Footage is four days old. She was seen in a cantina near a cargo line north of Hermosillo. There’s a Shadow facility about fifteen klicks from there. It’s abandoned now, but it could’ve been a transfer point.”

“Could’ve been,” Ghost muttered. “Or another dead end.”

Rudy gave him a look. “Three facilities down, hermano. That’s not nothing.”

One of those facilities still smelt like fire when they’d arrived, a mess of scorched steel and blood. Boo’s handiwork, they’d realized.

Six confirmed dead, four missing, three of which were recovered omegas. The security feeds had shown her looking bruised, thinner, but alive. She was there for all of three weeks before the place was essentially ash.

“Laswell says she’s got chatter out of Chihuaha,” Alejandro continued, flipping to a map. “Someone fitting her description took a supply truck and tossed the plates. Headed east before they lost her. Sounds like she’s heading towards Las Almas. Our people over there know to look for her. We should find her soon.”

Ghost rubbed the back of his neck, eyes tracking the route. “She’s running. Doesn’t trust anyone.”

Rudy sighed. “After three months of running, can’t say I blame her.”

Alejandro looked at him carefully. “We’ll find her, hermano. You’ve been burning through yourself trying.”

Ghost said nothing, eyes on the horizon. He stared into the endless, empty stretch of sand and sky, willing her to just appear in front of him.

They’d raided three compounds. Dragged corpses out of two, the third had been the one she’d burned down herself. Laswell had confirmed through blood traces and recovered files that Boo had started to go willingly to these new Shadow Company shipments. 

She was freeing omegas, tearing through every guard she could, hoping it would bring her closer to freedom or bring down Shadow Company with her.

Her face flickered in his mind’s eye. Not the one he stared at every night on his phone, all smiles with the girls. The one from the security footage he’d been watching.

Bruised, beaten, but her eyes… there was a fire in them that hadn’t been there before. A fierce, defiant spark that both terrified and awed him.

He needed to get to her.

The three alphas drove until the sun bled into the horizon, the truck’s headlights cutting through the deepening twilight. Rudy drove, Alejandro navigated, and Ghost sat in the back, a coiled spring of pure tension.

They arrived at her last known location. A small, dusty cantina on the outskirts of some nameless town. 

The owner was a woman with tired eyes. Polite, the owner described Boo. Polite, but quiet. She said the girl’s hands were rough, she paid with crumpled bills, and vanished before the sun had set, never saying where she was going.

Deciding to try and get ahead of her, they head back towards Las Almas. The city was alive with noise and light, a stark contrast to the silence of the desert. Rudy pulled his truck into the driveway of their pack’s house.

Marisol, their own little secret omega, called out from the kitchen as they came in through the garage.

“Any luck?” she asks, starting to put plates out for everyone.

“Not yet, Marisol,” Rudy told her, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. “But we will.”

She nodded, but her gaze lingered on Ghost.

Gabriel, a teen alpha Rudy and Alejandro had taken in, came bounding into the kitchen when he heard them come in.

“Hey. Someone left a message for you on the secured line,” he says to Rudy before taking a seat at the table.

Rudy’s quick to dismiss himself as the others take their own seats. He’s gone for a few minutes before he returns, a grim look on his face.

“Was Laswell,” he says, leaning against the doorframe instead of fully coming back in. “She’s got something.”

Ghost is already on his feet.

Rudy exhales like he’s bracing himself. “Interpol flagged a site tied to omega trafficking. They have invite-only auctions and post their listing ahead of time to draw in high-value buyers.”

He hesitates for a second before continuing. “Laswell got eyes on the site through a backdoor.”

“And?” Alejandro asks, posture shifting.

Rudy looks Ghost in the eyes. “She thinks they found her.”

Silence fills the room as the words settle.

Ghost’s hands curl at his sides. “Where is she?”

“That’s the problem,” Rudy says, pushing off the doorframe now. “The site masks everything. The location, the sellers… It’s all routed through layers of proxies and things that Interpol can’t peel back.” 

He shakes his head with a sigh. “All we have right now is the listing and the auction date.”

“Which is?” Ghost’s voice is practically a growl.

“In two days.”

Alejandro swears under his breath. “Two days to find a ghost server hosting a black market?”

“I know,” Rudy agrees. “But Laswell’s working on it. She thinks she can find a weak point, but nothing concrete yet.”

Ghost’s whole body is a tightly wound spring. Every muscle screams to act, to move, to do something, but there’s nothing to do, and nowhere to go.

Two days.

The words echoed in the back of his skull.

“What does the listing say?” The question shoots out of him.

Rudy winces. “Not much. There’s no name or anything from what Laswell was saying, just a photo and her lot number. She’s sending over what she can, but Interpol is having difficulties getting anything from the website, so it’s all just photos of screens.”

As if one cue, Rudy’s phone lights up. 

He glances down, expression turning grim before turning the screen to Ghost.

The photo is grainy, but it’s unmistakably Boo. 

She’s sitting in a chair with her arms bound in front of her. Her lip is split, and bruises cover her arms.

It’s her eyes that hit Ghost the hardest.

She’s glaring into the camera, feral energy radiating from her, even through the screen. Heavy circles line her eyes, showing just how exhausted she is, but the burn in her eyes shows she hasn’t stopped fighting yet.

Beneath the image, blurry text reads: Lot 34. Previously bonded. Feral.

The mark on his neck burns as he reads it.

Two days.

They have two days to find her, or lose her for good.

Six Months Later

The briefing room smelled of stale coffee and sweat, a combination Gary Sanderson had come to associate with off-book operations.

The woman who sat across from him was a familiar face, one who had given him missions many times before.

“We’ve got an opportunity, Sanderson,” Laswell said, sliding a folder his way. “Interpol found a connection between this target and several of the missing omegas we’ve been tracking.”

Gary inclines his head once in acknowledgment, already reaching for the file.

“You’ll be going in as private security,” she continues. “Last-minute hire. Extra coverage for a party that the target is hosting. We need eyes on the inside, more intelligence than action.”

He flips the folder open, eyes moving quickly over the contents.

“Your alias is George Smith,” Laswell says. “Former Royal Marine. Discharged after a training accident. You signed with Shadow Company shortly before they folded.”

There’s a beat of silence before he lifts his head up, signaling he’s still listening.

“You’ll have plausible deniability since your silence will be chalked up to the injury. Most PMCs have a guy like you on payroll.”

Gary gives a faint nod, committing the details to memory as he scans the page.

“You won’t have anyone in your ear for this one,” Laswell adds. “But we’ll meet after to go after anything you might have found.”

He nods.

“Primary objective is information,” she continues. “Anything we can use to build a case, or justify going in harder. We’re looking for routes in, security layout, guest lists, staff rotations, codes if there are any, that kind of thing.” 

He gave the woman a small smile.

This would be easy enough.

He kept his head down during the intake, a phantom among the scattered remains of Shadow Company.

They’re a rough-looking group. The kind of men who don’t ask questions as long as they’re paid well enough not to.

The lead contractor gives him a once-over, lingering a second too long on his throat. “Smith, right? Just got your file. Says you took shrapnel to the neck.” He offers a slight grimace. “Nasty business. You gonna be good for this?”

Gary’s gloved hand rises to give him a thumbs up.

The man huffs a short, humorless laugh. “Well, at least we know you won’t run your mouth.”

The men are bused out not long after. 

It’s a modern-looking mansion that overlooks the Baltic Sea. Inside, the air is thick with the scent of salt and jasmine, and the marble floors gleam under the men’s boots.

Somewhere deeper in the manor, a string quartet plays as the men are dispersed. Gary ends up at the base of a grand staircase, a silent sentinel in black tactical gear. 

He was meant to remain still, b more seen than actually noticed. He was essentially a piece of furniture, and that suited him just fine.

From where he was, he was able to easily observe partygoers as they drifted by in a flurry of silk and laughter. Their faces always lit with that kind of careless ease that only came with obscene wealth.

The camera hidden in his vest captured each one as time passed. Hours into the party, the host finally made his appearance. 

Conor Ormond. 

The owner of the mansion and the financial advisor to many of the guests in the room. At least, that’s ultimately what his cover was.

He clapped his hands together, instantly stopping the festivities.

“My friends,” he calls out, smiling wide. “Dear friends. I have something extra special for you all tonight.”

A ripple of interest moves through the crowd.

“You’ve all been… very carefully selected. And I think it’s time you all get an up close glimpse at my most prized collection.” His grin sharpens. “If you’d all follow me.”

The lead contractor catches Gary’s eyes as the crowd begins to move. A quick nod and a flick of his hand signaling Gary to stay close.

Gary wordlessly takes his new place at the back of the crowd.

They’re led to a lower section of the mansion, the air shifting the further they descend. The jasmine and salt scent gives way to a faint, antiseptic scent overlaid with something sweeter and more acrid.

The corridor stretches out long and narrow, the sound of the partygoers' feet echoing with every step. At the end is a set of double doors that reminds Gary of Willy Wonka’s factory.

Ormond pauses, hand resting against one of the giant doors.

“Ladies and gentlemen…” he says, almost reverent. “After much preparation, I am pleased to bring you a slice… of Paradise.”

With a smile and a dramatic flair, he swings the door open.

Past the doors lies another ballroom that matches the one above them. Omegas are scattered throughout the space, arranged more than gathered amongst various pieces of furniture that have been set up. 

Some come bounding up to the guests, greeting them with smiles and flounces, pulling them towards furniture. Others sit perched on their furniture, a chain connecting the collar around their neck to the piece they’re on.

“Lovely, aren’t they?” Ormond says lightly, stepping into the room as if presenting fine art. “My pets.”

He gestures broadly. “Collected from all across the globe. Each one carefully chosen for their own unique… abilities.”

The partygoers murmur their appreciation, eyes gleaming with a mix of curiosity and lust.

Gary’s stomach knots as he does his best to steel his expression.

His hands, clasped neatly behind his back, tighten slightly before he forces them still. He takes a moment to look around, as if checking the room for security purposes instead of trying to catch everything on camera. 

“Now,” Ormond says, voice lifting with pride, “it’s been quite the adventure trying to get so many of these lovely things from my island to this mansion. But, I found one of the best ways to ensure my pets remain… well-behaved.”

He steps aside to reveal a large alpha standing at attention near the far wall. He’s massive. A broad-shouldered man who looks like he was built for war, not display. His head is slightly bowed as the crowd approaches.

A thick, metallic collar sits locked tightly around his throat.

“As you can see,” Ormond continues, almost conversational, “he’s a prime alpha.”

A ripple of interest moves through the crowd.

“Rare, I know,” Ormond goes on. “Exceptionally so. He’s stronger, faster, and far more lethal than your average alpha. Put him in a room, and lesser alphas will feel it, even if they don’t necessarily know it.”

His smile widens slightly. “Which, as I’m sure many of you know, makes them quite dangerous when left unchecked. But fear not,” Ormond continues, flourishing a small, silver remote. “A little shock is all it takes to remind this beast who’s master here.”

Gary watches as Ormond presses a button on the remote. The alpha’s body locks, muscles seizing as a low, guttural growl tears from his chest.

The alpha forces himself to take a step, then another, before he’s at Ormond’s side. He lowers himself so he’s kneeling next to his captor.

A few guests laugh, some clap, crude remarks fly from one partygoer to another.

Gary feels something dark twist in his chest.

“Remarkable, isn’t he?” Ormond says, resting a casual hand against the alpha’s shoulder like he’s nothing more than a trained animal. “Power easily redirected.”

He tilts his head slightly. “Conditioning, of course, is key with any pet. And with this one, pain is a very effective teacher.”

His gaze sweeps the room. “Beyond the strength,” he gestures lazily, “he serves a more practical function as well. For one, my pets are far calmer with him present.”

There are some small murmurs as he talks.

“They’re easier to manage, and not just in terms of behavior. We’ve noticed that there’s been far less illness since incorporating him into Paradise.”

His eyes gleam as his voice lifts in excitement. “We’re almost done with research, and then I’ll be posting my findings on the forums.”

A few guest murmur their excitement as Gary’s jaw tightens at the term ‘research’. Ormond begins to move the group once more, leading the group through the ballroom, showing off his “collection” further, like a twisted curator.

“Now,” Ormond smiles. “You’ll have plenty of time to play with these pets here. But first, I must show you some of my more… exotic pieces.”

The partgoers follow him deeper into the mansion, their anticipation evident in the way they jostled each other for a better look.

Gary hung back, a silent, brooding presence in the back. Movement draws his attention as one of the omegas approaches him.

She had a small smile on her face, hips swaying as she walked. She’s beautiful, dark hair tumbling around her shoulders in light waves and eyes that seemed to hold a hint of mischief.

“Hello there,” she says, her voice a low purr. “You’re new, aren’t you?”

She’s close enough that he can smell her scent pouring from her. Oranges and something else he can’t quite place, but it’s sweet and intoxicating. 

She reaches out a hand, her fingers brushing against his arm. “You’re so strong,” she comments with wide eyes.

Gary keeps his composure, his expression a mask of indifference, even as a storm rages inside of him. Instincts screaming at him to grab her and bring her to safety.

“Roxy!” Ormond’s voice cuts through the crowd. He’s still at the front of the group, but he’s turned back to look at the omega. 

“You know better,” he says plainly. “Don’t bother the help.”

A flash of annoyance crosses Roxy’s face before it’s replaced with an excessively sweet smile. “Yes, sir,” she says, her tone dripping with the same sweetness her smile is made from.

The group moves on, leaving Gary to continue his post at the back of the group, a new block of lead in his stomach.

They pass through another set of doors, and the hallway here is different. Colder in both temperature and presence. 

The walls are lined with reinforced doors, each one paired with a large observation window. They’re essentially cages, all of them containing sparse rooms and chained omegas. 

Some pace, others lie in bed or on the floor. All of them are very clearly some stage of feral, eyes all flickering with the same, burning energy.

“Now,” Ormond says, his voice lowering slightly, “this is where I keep my more… volatile assets.”

A few guests lean in, intrigued.

“They’re not as sociable as the others,” he continues, almost fondly, “but they have their own unique charms.”

He slows at one of the doors before stopping. His smile shifts to something almost sentimental. 

“This one,” he says, “is my pride and joy.”

Gary’s attention sharpens.

“The first of my feral collection. Acquired in Mexico a few months back.” A quiet note of satisfaction threads through his voice. “A true feral omega.”

He glances back at the group.

“She was… difficult at first. Violent, extremely unmanageable.” He lets out a small chuckle. “But you know me. I do enjoy a challenge.”

Small murmurs of agreement flitter through the group. 

“With the right incentives, I’ve found she’s actually quite trainable.” He turns to the group. “Would you all like to meet her?”

A ripple of excitement moves through the guests. Ormond turns, punching in a code on the keypad. Gary clocks it instantly, committing the sequence to memory without breaking his bored facade.

The door unlocks with a heavy click, and Ormond steps inside. For a moment, the group is left to stare through the glass. Gary is too far back to see inside of the cage, but it’s not long before Ormond reemerges.

A gold leash is wrapped neatly around his hand, and on the other end is an omega in a flowy, short dress. It’s meant to make her look delicate and pretty, but it does little to hide the scars that run up and down her arms, across her shoulders, and down her back.

Her eyes were wide and unfocused, a clear sign that she’d been heavily drugged.

“Nuh-uh,” Ormond says lightly to someone in the room that Gary can’t see. “I’m taking her for a little walk. She’ll be right back.”

The door shuts behind him with a quiet, final click.

He turns back to the group, smile firmly back in place.

“Meet Mira,” he says. “The crown jewel of my feral project.” He gestures vaguely to her arms. “As you can see, she’s quite the fighter.”

Mira sways where she stands, her balance slightly faltering. The leash tugs slightly as she leans too far.

Ormond clicks his tongue. “Come now, pet,” he murmurs. “Don’t embarrass me.” 

He tugs sharply, making her stumble forward. 

The guests react immediately, cooing and aahing at her. Hands reach out without hesitation, brushing her arms with a sense of curiosity.

Ormond watches it all as if he were a painter showing off his greatest masterpiece.

“She’s still learning,” he continues, “but her progress has been truly remarkable. The cartel I bought her from lost complete control of her. Apparently, she’d built up an impressive little body count.”

He shrugs slightly. “Made it easy to get a good deal for her.”

A few low laughs ripple through the group.

Mira steadies herself on one of the guests at the front of the group. “Oh my,” they say, amused. “What a fascinating little thing. Are her heats available for purchase?”

It takes every ounce of Gary’s sheer will not to react.

“Not yet,” Ormond says, almost thoughtful. “I’m still refining a few… variables before we get there.”

A woman steps forward. She’s blonde, poised, with a heavy set of diamonds that sit across her throat. She gestures towards the leash. “May I, Conor?”

“Of course, of course,” Ormond says, passing it over. “Just be gentle. She’s still learning.”

The woman takes it with a happy little chirp. She guides Mira through the room, slow and deliberate, turning her this way and that as if presenting a prized show dog.

“She’s so well-behaved,” she purrs, a gloved hand trailing down Mira’s back. “What do you use to keep her so docile?”

Gary’s jaw tightens.

“A little concoction of my own design,” Ormond brags. “It dulls the senses just enough to make them pliable, but not so much that they lose their… fire.”

A few guests lean in, listening with clear intrigue.

“She requires a rather heavy dose to maintain this level of compliance,” he continues, almost conversational. “But I’m refining it. Ideally, something more efficient for my normal pets.”

The group resorts with eager murmurs.

“She's been especially good lately,” Ormond adds, watching as she’s carted around through the guests. Some take the opportunity to leave lingering touches on what they can.

“I even allowed her a roommate. Some little omega I wasn’t particularly fond of.” He smiles faintly. “It seems to have a stabilizing effect.”

He clasps his hands behind his back.

“Actually, I’ve been doing quite the little study on her results. That’s another thing I plan to post to the forum once I’m done, so stay tuned for more details on how to replicate this.”

The leash starts getting passed from guest to guest. Each one handles her a little differently. Some are careful, almost a bit fearful of her. Others not so much.

Touches grow bolder as she gets deeper into the group. They laugh, trade comments, and offer praise to Ormond while giving the omega soft, patronizing coos.

Mira doesn’t respond to any of it, merely just floating along. She drifts where she’s pulled, bare feet shuffling across the marble floors. Her balance seems to waver with each tug, her body swaying just a fraction, too slow to correct itself. 

One of the guests, a large, burly man with a thick beard, takes the leash next.

He gives it a short, testing pull. “Sit,” he barks down at her.

Mira drops without hesitation.

The man laughs, clearly pleased at her easy obedience. 

“Think she’d at least suck me off?” he asks Ormond.

Ormond hums in consideration. “Might not be the best idea. We’re still working on her manners.”

He steps up behind her, forcing her head up and pressing his fingers into her jaw. Her lips part under the pressure, showing off sharp fangs that openly hang in her mouth. 

“The downside of her feral nature,” Ormond says, a hint of disappointment in his tone, “is that these sharp things don’t go away.” 

He tilts her head back and forth. A few guests step in front of Gary, cutting off his view as they get a closer look. “She has a tendency to bite… Enthusiastically.”

A few amused chuckles ripple through the group.

“Wouldn’t want you losing anything important,” he adds with a small laugh.

The pair chuckles before the burly man passes off the leash to another guest. Now that she’s a lot closer, he’s able to get a better view of her as her dress rides up on her hip.

In that brief moment, Gary sees it, inked along her hip.

A familiar skull mask amongst flowers.

His mind spiraled as he tried to think of where else that mask might be known besides his old partner. This wasn’t just any skull tattoo. It was stylized and very clearly… his. 

It was like a punch to the gut. The air left his lungs as he did his best to swallow back any sort of reaction.

Another guest gets too bold, lifting up the bottom of the dress to peek at her underwear as Ormond starts rattling off his methods on getting omegas comfortable with thongs.

Sure enough, it wasn’t just some skull. It was shaded to have the stripes he knew Ghost hand-painted on his mask himself.

This… this was Ghost’s omega.

His eyes go to her scent glands, finding them empty, but he can see slivers of silvery marks peeking over her collar.

Ghost’s mate.

He had no way of knowing if Ghost knew about this or not, but a primal, protective rage began to grow in Gary’s gut. 

“I will say,” Ormond’s voice cuts through his spiraling, “the prime alpha has been quite useful in managing her temperament as well.” 

Gary forces his attention back on Ormond.

“In the early stages,” Ormond continues, “his… discipline made acclimation significantly easier. We were able to get injections and medical procedures done far quicker with him present than without.”

Gary feels something in his gut twist hard enough to make him sick. He shifts his stance slightly, making it appear as though he’s making more room for the omega and the guests, but really he’s just trying to make sure this is all on camera.

He can’t afford to miss anything… especially not this.

Eventually, Ormond steps forward, reclaiming the leash, leading her back to her cage. “You’ve had such a big night,” he coos at her. “You’ve done so well, I’ll have to reward you later.”

He can hear her get clipped in before Ormond comes back out, giving her a small “Nighty night,” before shutting and locking the door.

The tour comes to a close soon after. Guests are ushered back into ‘a slice of Paradise’, their excitement barely contained now that they’ve had a taste of what’s being offered.

“Playtime,” someone mutters, amused.

Gary remains at the rear until the last of them makes their way into the ballroom. The lead contractor catches his eye, jerking his chin toward the hallway.

“We need someone posted here,” he says. “Make sure none of them wander off where they shouldn’t. Think you can manage?”

Gary gives him a firm, professional nod.

“Good,” the contractor says, letting out a humorless laugh. “Figured you’d be a good pick. Can’t really talk about anything you’ve seen.”

He jerks his chin towards the cages.

“Don’t let anyone through without Ormond’s say-so. Some of the guests were actin’ mighty friendly with that one omega, and I don’t want any issues.”

Gary nods again.

With that, the contractor leaves him. The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating.

Gary stands guard outside the hallway of glass cells. The sounds of the partygoers and their activities drift their way over to him as he keeps watch.

He does his best to slow his breathing, forcing himself to get a grip on himself and not freak out over what he’s discovered.

Ghost’s mate. He had to get her out.

But not now. Anything he does is going to be sloppy, rushed. He has no way to get her out without it going bad.

He reminds himself that his job here is to just gather intel, not to act. But this… this was something he doesn’t think anyone ever accounted for. 

Time drags on, more hours passing as Gary formulates the tiniest of plans in his head.

The lead contractor passes through more than once, doing lazy sweeps, allowing him the smallest of breaks. Each time, Gary meets him with the same, steady nod, being the perfect hired thug. Reliable, silent, and apparently without a thought in his head.

That was, until he snuck over to the glass cage that contained the feral omega. She and her roommate spooked as he punched in the code, unlocking the door. He placed a finger over his mouth, thankful when the roommate seemed to understand what was going on.

She held his gaze, giving him a sharp nod. He opened the door, ever so slightly, so they could hear when he left.

He goes back to his post, stoic as ever.

He had no idea how this would pan out, how she might get out of this, but he had to give her the chance. 

The contractor approaches him one last time that evening. “One more sweep,” he mutters. “Then we’re done for the night. Enjoy the show, new guy?” he huffs. “Not a bad way to make a buck if you ask me.”

Gary just nods, like he’s done every time before. Once he’s put of sight, Gary counts in his head before checking the room again.

It’s empty.

For a split second, something like relief floods his system. He closes the door behind him and steps back into position. By the time the contractor returns, Gary’s right where he needs to be, like nothing ever happened. 

The next morning, Gary drinks his coffee in silence as he sits in the back of a coffee shop a few blocks from his hotel.

The day feels like any other. Traffic hums outside, people pass by, wrapped up in their own lives. No one gives him a second glance, just like normal.

What’s not normal is the headline he reads on his phone.

Billionaire Philanthropist Financeer Conor Ormond Killed in Suspected Gas Explosion at Coastal Estate Exposing Trafficking Operation

He reads it once. Then again, slower, really taking it in.

According to the article, the explosion hit sometime in the early hours of the morning, way after he left. A structural fire followed. By the time emergency services arrived, most of the estate had been engulfed in flames.

Authorities are still investigating the cause, but foul play is heavily suspected.

The article goes on to explain that Ormond was one of the victims, as well as several high-profile guests. Names and faces he had just seen a few hours ago. 

Further down, it mentions authorities have also opened up a trafficking case after identifying multiple of the survivors as missing omegas.

Gary goes still, the coffee in his cup suddenly tasting like ash. A mix of shock, pride, and a grim sort of satisfaction wars within him.

She’d done it. Somehow, someway, that little omega had not only gotten herself out, but taken down Ormond’s whole operation with her.

His phone buzzes as a message pops up on his phone. 

Footage received. Interpol is already moving on what’s left of the site.

A second message follows almost immediately.

Explosion complicated things, but it gave us legal entry. We’ll take it. 

Gary reads it, expression unchanged as the final message comes through.

Good work, Sanderson.

He locks the phone and sets it back down.

He takes another sip of his coffee.

It tastes a lot sweeter now.

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A/N: Honestly, this was a very hard chapter to write due to some personal experiences, but I felt like it was important at the same time. Originally, I kind of glazed over Boo's experience in Ormond's estate, thinking it may be too much, especially with certain current events. I was finding that it just didn't really relay just how awful of an experience she goes through, and to be honest, I still feel like not a lot of detail is given about how much she actually goes through all these months separated from her pack. There's more coming next chapter. I'm excited to see your thoughts 💜

As always, I was editing chapter 24 and ended up throwing out 7k words, only to decide to just completely redo it. So, I'm now basically redoing all of chapter 24 and 25. We're still on track for posting them once a week, though! Chapter 23 is done and ready for you guys and I'm not going to touch it. I've edited it like 4 times now so we're all good to go hahah!

Socks.

It’s the kind of gift every kid dreads getting during the holidays. At one point in my life, I felt the exact same way.

The first Christmas I spent with Uncle Dave and his wife, I didn’t know what to expect. I sat cross-legged on the rug with a paper plate of half-burnt cookies in my lap when they handed me my one and only present. I remember my mind spinning with possibilities of what it could be.

I tore it open, and there they were. 

Socks.

I tried to smile, but I could feel the disappointment burning behind my teeth. It wasn’t like I’d ever had a huge pile of gifts under a tree before, but somehow that made it worse. My one present… and it was socks? My chest went tight. I almost lost it right there.

That was until Rosco leaned over, that famous grin of his cutting through my pity party.

“Check again,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows. I looked up at him, fighting off tears, confused as hell. He grabbed the socks, still held together by the little plastic piece in the middle, and opened it wide enough for me to see the real gift hidden inside.

I don’t even remember what it was that first year. More often than not, it was a gift card, but sometimes it had money or an IOU scribbled in Dave’s messy handwriting for something I could cash in later, like a morning off from chores or free equipment mending. Regardless, socks soon became my favorite gift.

Every year after that, they changed a little. They went from those fuzzy gas station ones to the sturdy ones with wool linings. Then, once I started to work longer hours, they turned into the really nice compression socks. 

Dave also started getting creative with his delivery. What began as a lumpy, badly wrapped present under the tree turned into a yearly scavenger hunt. I’d find them tucked into my work boots, hidden in the fridge, or stuffed beside the ledger with the day’s chores. 

Sure, I still got little trinkets and candy in my stocking with the rest of the farm family, but those socks were really what I was looking forward to when it came to my pack’s holiday festivities.

So, when I opened the box from Johnny’s parents and saw socks folded neatly inside, my throat immediately tightened.

They were a soft, simple, pale gray pair, with little flecks of white. The label said they were made from Scottish sheep wool, and I could see the fibers fluffing up the socks a little. My fingers brushed the fabric, and suddenly I was ten years old again, sitting in front of the tree, pretending I wasn’t about to cry over a pair of socks.

The feeling hit me hard and fast. I blinked a few times, swallowed down the lump in my throat, and gave them the best smile I could muster in that moment. 

I know they had no idea, had no way of knowing. To them, this was just a cozy, practical gift for their son’s new packmate. But to me, it felt like fulfilling a tradition I didn’t even realize I had.

I laughed to myself, wiping at my eyes before anyone besides Simon could notice. Still, I held onto them the whole night, because they were something precious to me now. New socks for my new life.

Johnny’s family had been nothing short of wonderful from the moment we arrived.

The second we’d stepped through the front door, his mum wrapped us in hugs that could rival my weighted blanket. 

Her smile was wide and genuine, the kind that made her whole face crinkle at the corners. She scolded the boys for not visiting more often, swatting Johnny’s arm before turning to Bee and me, declaring she’d been “blessed with more daughters this year”.

The house itself smelled like roast, pine cleaner, and warm drinks. Every room buzzed with movement. Kids shrieked with laughter, someone shouted over a whistling kettle, holiday music battling for dominance with the noise of family.

Johnny’s sisters welcomed us with the same enthusiasm their mom did.

Maggie, the oldest, swept us into warm hugs the second we met her. She introduced us to her four lively kids like the proud, alpha mom she was before introducing us to her quiet mate, Archie.

Archie had that quiet authority about him that only experienced omega parents had. It was the kind that kept the kids from getting too rowdy with nothing more than a raised brow and a smirk.

Clare, the middle sister, was a sharp-edged beta with pressed slacks, perfect posture, and a quick wit that matched Simon’s dry humor almost too well. 

It was clear that they had years of gentle understanding between them, sharing subtle, amused glances from opposite sides of the room when chaos escalated around them. It was like watching two cats ignore the dog park around them.

And then there was Isla, the youngest of the trio. But, as she liked to remind everyone, not the youngest of the siblings, that title belonged to Johnny. She was a whirlwind of energy, showing off her new alpha husband, Fraser.

They gushed over wedding photos from the ceremony Johnny had missed. Isla spoke with the kind of bright, unshakable enthusiasm only a newlywed could manage, describing every hiccup of the day with glittering eyes. She said that ever since she’d presented as a beta, she’d been determined to have the most “fairytale wedding” imaginable, and by the photos, it looked like she had done just that.

It was all very charming in a loud, slightly overwhelming way.

Bee fit right in almost instantly. Her easy laugh and open warmth seemed to mesh seamlessly with the chaos. She jumped into helping in the kitchen, got roped into board games with the kids, and chatted with the sisters as if she’d known them for years. 

Watching her shine like that, especially after she’d spent the car ride worrying herself sick about first impressions and not knowing what gifts to get, made something warm settle in my chest.

Every time our eyes met across the room, she looked genuinely happy. And that made me happy.

The kids were definitely a weakness for me. Maggie’s kids had the cutest accents that had my heart absolutely destroyed. I often found myself cooing to myself or Simon when one of them would say something.

The only real hitch was the face mask I had on that first day.

My teeth were still healing from dropping during the attack, and the last thing I wanted was to scare the kids with them. The family was already used to Simon wearing masks, so I was thankful that wearing one didn’t get me more than just a curious glance.

What I didn’t expect was Archie cornering me in the kitchen that evening while everyone else fussed over hanging ornaments on the tree.

He didn’t do it in a threatening way, that’s not his style. Rather, he had that air about him that just made you want to spill your entire life story just because of how safe he made the room feel.

He stepped beside me while I was drying dishes, lowered his voice and asked gently, “Lass, why’re you wearing that mask?”

I told him the truth. About the attack. About the number of attacks I had been in. How, ultimately, I just didn’t want to accidentally frighten the little ones.

Archie listened without interrupting, arms folded loosely over his chest, expression softening with every sentence. Then he surprised me. 

“Take it off,” he said. Not unkind. Not demanding. Just… certain.

Before I could even form an argument, he continued, “We’re raisin’ the kids to know not every omega looks the same. People survive things, it changes them, that’s life. Your teeth aren’t somethin’ to hide, they’re proof you fought for yourself and won.”

I blinked at him, in complete shock, before my eyes started to burn. Archie didn’t hesitate, pulling me into a tight hug that only amplified the many years he’d been doing this to his own kids. 

By the time I calmed down enough to function properly, I nodded and took the mask off. 

Simon noticed instantly, joining me across the room when I had snuck my way back in after doing the dishes. He removed his own, only having worn it in solidarity for me.

Eventually, there were some questions from the kids, but nothing was laced with fear or disgust like I thought it’d be. If anything, they accepted the fact and seemed to move on rather quickly.

All of Johnny’s family seemed far more interested in proudly showing off their favorite Christmas traditions to me and Bee. It was oddly comforting, like being absorbed into a current instead of being examined under a spotlight.

On our second night there, we bundled up and headed into town for the Christmas market. Strings of lights crisscrossed over the cobblestone streets, casting the little town in a warm golden haze.

Every shopfront glowed, every window was frosted at the edges, and the chatter of the crowd rolled through the square like music.

The sisters absolutely insisted that I try mulled wine. I hesitated at first, bracing myself for something too sickly sweet, but it was… good. Smooth, not too sweet, and just the right amount of spices to make it taste festive.

I ended up mostly using the cup to thaw my fingers, but I’d occasionally sip it to feel like I was participating in the tradition enough.

From there, everything turned into a whirl of color and motion. The girls tugged me from stall to stall, wrapping knitted scarves around my neck or plopping fuzzy hats onto my head. 

Samples were constantly being shoved into my mouth, whether it was fudge, roasted nuts, or little pastries dusted with sugar.

Honestly, Bee was made for this environment, practically vibrating the whole time. She sparkled under the lights and seemed to be an expert at bobbing and weaving through the crowd to look at something shiny she had found. 

Behind us, Simon and Johnny followed at their own pace, both wearing smiles too wide to be legal. Every time Bee hauled me toward another booth, I’d glance over my shoulder and catch them staring at us like we were the highlight reel of their entire holiday.

And then Archie joined us.

If the energy had been high before, Arche managed to double it effortlessly. One second, he was wrangling the kids with Maggie, and the next, he was beside us with something soft to touch or something delicious to smell, always knowing exactly what would make an omega light up.

He had an uncanny sense for it. Watching him work… that’s when what he’d told me in the kitchen really sank in.

Archie wasn’t the stereotypical omega. Besides the fact that he was a male, an already rare commodity in the omega world, he had a kind of confident softness to him that I found myself envying.

He chased scents and textures with the enthusiasm of someone who loved beauty for beauty’s sake, but also was able to command his horde of children with a single raised brow. He was gentle and fierce in the same breath.

It was fascinating to watch. I had been living in a world where it seemed I could only be one of those things and was forced to be the opposite. Seeing it meld together in perfect harmony had me reflecting on myself, rethinking how I might be able to function like this. 

Maggie seemed the perfect partner to be with him, too. She was the perfect amplification to his fierce side, ready to stand firm by his side at any moment, while giving him the reins to be himself at the same time. 

At one point, she leaned over to us, whispering to both Bee and I, “Love Archie, I swear I do, but he’s worse than the weans at these markets. Always sneakin’ off to buy somethin’ for the nest or the house. “

She was proven hilariously right when Archie had to be physically pulled from a scent-infused pillow booth… only to reappear three stalls later with a suspiciously stuffed bag tucked under his arm. 

Something inside of me shifted, watching him be so unapologetically himself. His words from the kitchen replayed in my head as I set new goals for myself to try and be more like Archie.

By far, the best part of the entire visit with Johnny’s family was the final meal we all shared together. Johnny’s mom put her heart and soul into preparing a full, traditional, Scottish Christmas dinner. 

The pride in her eyes when she ushered us toward the table made it clear she’d been planning this for quite some time.

It felt strange not being allowed to help cook. I offered, more than once, and each time she shooed me out of the kitchen with the same firm hand she used on Johnny when he’d try to sneak food.

Eventually, I managed to weasel my way into helping set the table with the kids. They took this job very seriously and I did my best to follow their instructions so I didn’t get kicked out of something else.

Once everything was arranged, Johnny’s mom came around with brightly colored paper tubes and set one on every plate. Her face lit up as she explained that she’d gone out of her way to find the “good Christmas crackers” this year. I’d never seen anything like this before, but everyone else reacted like this was an essential part of the celebration.

Before we ate, everyone took their seats and crossed their arms, each of us grabbing one end of a cracked belonging to the person beside us. Maggie gave a countdown, and on “three!” the room exploded into a chorus of sharp pops.

I jumped hard enough to rattle the cutlery, earning immediate giggles from the kids and a few snorts from the adults. I laughed along with them, cheeks hot but warm in the best way.

When the noise settled, Simon reached across the table and slid my cracked toward me with a soft nudge, the corner of his mouth lifting.

Inside was a flimsy golden paper crown, a truly cringe-worthy joke, and the tiniest wind-up toy I had ever seen. My prize was a penguin that waddled in crooked little circles across the table.

Simon’s cracker contained a miniature ring-toss set, and within about three throws, he’s already lost one of the rings to a crack in the table. 

We were told, very sternly by Maggie’s eldest, that there were no exceptions to the crowl rule, so every one of us wore our crowls through the whole meal. I didn’t mind, especially not when Simon adjusted his own crown with a quiet, sheepish smile… one that made him seem almost younger and softer.

Once I ended up getting a taste of the food, it was game over for me. The smell alone was enough to make my eyes water with joy. Platters of roasted meats, buttery potatoes in all sorts of different forms, gravy that you could practically drink, and something called haggis that I was told was vegetarian, but I had my doubts because of how savory it ended up being. 

There were parsnips and sprouts, homemade cranberry sauce, and even more potatoes because, apparently, “you can never have too many,” according to Johnny’s mom, and after everything we ate, I completely agree with her.

I lost count of how many times I filled my plate. And somehow, every dish tasted better than the last.

The whole dining room buzzed with conversation and laughter. Plates scraped, glasses clinked, children argued over who had the better cracker prize, and the warmth of the kitchen seeped into my bones. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt that content. Full in every sense of the word.

At one point, I looked toward Simon.

He was sitting quietly, watching the chaos unfold with that small, private smile he usually saved just for me. When our eyes met, the noise of the room softened, fading into a warm, blurred hum behind us.

For a heartbeat, it felt like we were the only people at that table. The feeling lingered as we were dismissed for presents and eventually as I lay my head against his shoulder, clutching a pair of socks to my chest.

Saying goodbye to Johnny’s family was a bit sad, but being able to see Simon’s hometown made up for it. He had booked an Airbnb for us that was small, but surprisingly comfortable. It had brick walls with ivy that crept up the side and something about it just screamed “British family home”.

The street we were on was also lined with homes just like it, pressed shoulder to shoulder, and puffing thin trails of smoke from their chimneys.

The neighborhood bled into the textile factories and little local shops that the town was known for. There were bakeries, cute cafes, hardware stores that looked older than the both of us combined, and a river that ran through everything.

There was a strange charm to it all. Cozy, yes, but there was something hollow under the surface. Like the town had long since settled into the ache of remembering better days.

In some ways, it reminded me of Simon himself. Steady and weathered, but in a beautiful sort of way. I couldn’t help thinking that the place suited who he was now, but I couldn’t imagine him being a child living here. It felt too still for that, too careful.

This evening, Simon was determined to give me a glimpse into what he called “proper British living”. He offered to pick up a few things from the grocery store so we could make dinner together in the tiny kitchen while I got settled in. The idea of cooking with him, just the two of us, had made my chest warm, and I eagerly agreed.

I put my things away quickly and jumped at the opportunity to finally give Mo a call. I’d been putting off this call ever since I got out of the infirmary.

Mo no doubt knows something is up because I haven’t even opened her messages for about a week, and the guilt of that coils up my stomach as well.

But… I just couldn’t. Every time I thought about opening them, my stomach twisted up even more. I’d seen glimpses from the message previews. Holiday plans, little updates about Henry, and part of me ached to devour every word. But another part knew that to do that, I’d have to answer back.

I sat at the small dining table, the gray sky shining through the window, and pressed call, holding my breath.

“What. The. Fuck,” she answers, her voice sharp enough to make me wince.

I can’t help the snort that escapes me. “Hi, Mo,” I say softly.

“Don’t ‘Hi, Mo,’ me! Where the fuck have you been?”

“It’s… a long story.”

“Well, I got time,” she fires back, that old spitfire in her tone that makes something spark in my chest. It sinks in how much I miss her. 

With a heavy sigh, I tell her as much as I can. Simon and I talked about it on the drive over, about what I could and couldn’t share with her. It’s hard, keeping parts of my life secret from her. But until everything is finally settled, I get it. We have to be careful.

I tell her that some omegas attacked me, that I ended up in the infirmary for a few days to recover.

I don’t tell her that I was slowly being poisoned the entire time.

I do tell her about Johnny’s family, about how they welcomed me in and showed me what a UK Christmas feels like. 

I don’t tell her how, every time we went anywhere, I kept one eye on the crowd, and the other on the exits, old instincts flaring to life now that I know someone could be watching us at any time.

By the time I finish, she’s quieter. I can hear her breathing through the speaker, that tiny hitch she gets when she’s trying not to sound worried, like she knows there’s more to this.

“Okay,” she says finally. “Okay… I guess I can’t stay mad if you were in the hospital. But you still should’ve called, Boo. You scared the shit out of me.”

“I know,” I whisper. “I’m sorry. I wanted to call sooner, but I got wrapped up in Johnny’s family, and I just wanted to make sure I had time to talk to you.”

She sighs, long and tired. “You’re lucky I love you, you pain in the ass.”

That earns a small laugh out of me. “Think that’ll be the one thing that never changes about me,” I tease.

She gives a sound of agreement before filling me in on what I’ve missed. She sends photos and videos of Henry’s first holiday performance. He’s in a paper snowflake outfit, standing dead center on stage, singing his little heart out with the rest of his class. My chest aches in the best and worst way.

Then she starts venting about the holiday drama. Her family, Lucas’ family, the endless tug-of-war about where they’re spending Christmas Eve versus Day. 

“I swear,” she mutters, “if one more person tells me I’m being too emotional about it, I’m throwing a whole damn Christmas tree at them.”

I grin, imagining her pacing her big, too-perfect kitchen, gesturing wildly with one hand while holding the phone with the other.

“You’d probably win that fight,” I tease.

“You bet your ass I would,” she fires back, and for a moment, it’s like no time has passed between us at all. Just an omega and her beta, trying to find light in the middle of the mess, laughing like a couple of school girls.

Mo’s still laughing when I hear the front door open. The sounds of boots scraping the mat and the rustle of grocery bags reach me before Simon calls out. “Boo? You here?”

“Yeah, in the dining room,” I call out, as Mo’s laughter fades through the speaker.

“That your Brit?” she asks, amusement thick in her voice.

“Yeah,” I smile as he peeks his head in, like he needed to physically see me before moving into the kitchen. “He’s home.”

“Well, tell him I said thanks for keeping your feral ass alive,” she says. “And call me again soon. I mean it this time, Boo. Don’t make me hunt you down, because I will.”

I laugh softly, blinking back the tears that start to grow at the corners of my eyes. “I know you will. I’ll reach out more, I promise.”

We hang up, and for a long moment, I just sit there at the table, phone still in hand. The flat is quiet again, minus the sound of Simon unpacking in the kitchen. 

When I finally make my way in there, Simon’s tossing out the last bag. He looks up at me, his hair mussed from the wind outside. 

“You get to chat with Mo?” he asks, his tone easy, but his eyes searching.

“Yeah,” I say softly, leaning against the counter. “She was… pissed. But she’s okay now. It was nice, hearing her voice again.”

He hums, setting the last tin aside before standing. “Good,” he says, brushing his hands off on his jeans before he looks me over. “You needed that.”

“I guess I did,” I admit. My voice comes out smaller than I mean for it to. “It made everything feel a bit more normal for a minute.”

He steps closer, the distance between us shrinking until I can smell the cold air still clinging to his coat. 

“You’ve had enough crazy to last a lifetime,” he murmurs.

I manage a small smile. “I really have, haven’t I?”

He studies me for a beat, something soft flickering in his eyes before his hand rises to the back of my head. His fingers thread gently through my hair, and he leans in until his lips brush mine.

The kiss starts tender, but the moment his tongue slips past my lips, it quickly gets heated. His nose is cold against my cheek, a shock against the warmth that quickly builds between us.

My hands slide up around his neck, pulling him closer. His arms fold around my waist, pressing me against him until it feels like there’s no space left to breathe, and really, there’s no reason to.

It’s dizzying, how easy it is to lose myself in him. For a few heartbeats, everything else falls away. 

It’s just me and Simon.

Then my stomach growls, loud and rude enough to make us both pause.

He pulls back just slightly, lips still close enough that I can feel the ghost of his breath when he huffs a quiet laugh. 

“I take it that wasn’t a purr,” he says, amusement tugging at the edge of his voice. “You hungry, love?”

“Yes,” I admit between shallow breaths, “but I can wait.”

He chuckles, shaking his head as he steps back reluctantly. “Don’t think I can risk not feeding you. You bite,” he teases, eyes glinting.

I give him an exaggerated pout and turn toward the counter. “Fine,” I sigh dramatically. “Show me this proper British dinner, then.”

He smirks, tugging off his coat and tossing it on a nearby chair. “All right, love. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. We’re simple folk, it’s not going to be anything fancy.”

“Think I can handle it,” I shoot back, already rolling up my sleeves.

His laugh is quiet and gravelly, a low rumble that lives somewhere deep in his chest, almost damn near a purr.

We fall into rhythm easily. Simon chops vegetables with steady hands, while I stir things on the stove, the air filling with the hiss of butter and roasted herbs. Every now and then, we brush up against each other, and each time feels more and more deliberate, like we need each other’s touch.

A couple of dishes go into the oven, and before long, we’re shoulder-to-shoulder at the counter, working in tandem. It feels… nice. Easy. 

There’s something about seeing him like this, sleeves all rolled up and brows furrowed in focus, that makes my chest ache in the best way.

When everything’s finally done, the kitchen is a bit of a mess, but the meal itself looks incredible. 

Yorkshire pudding, roast potatoes, mashed potatoes, because apparently there’s gotta be more than one kinda potato, roasted vegetables, and a cut of meat sit on the plates in front of us.

“Not bad for ‘simple’,” I say, eyeing the spread.

He snorts softly as he wipes his hands on a towel. “Told you, nothin’ fancy. Just good food, done proper.”

“Proper, huh?” I tease. “But we’re about to smother everything in gravy, no?”

He grins, the corner of his scarred mouth twitching up. “Aye. That’s the British way.”

I can’t help but laugh as he starts ladling gravy over everything like it’s holy water. 

Halfway through the meal, Simon looks up from his plate. There’s a glint in his eye, the kind that usually means he’s going to try and throw me off balance.

“Were you still interested in getting a tattoo?” he asks, like it’s the most ordinary thing in the world.

I blink, effectively caught off guard. “Yeah,” I say after swallowing my bite. I grab a nearby napkin to dab at my mouth. “Why?”

“My artist’s got a spot open the day after next.” He says it so simply, like he hadn’t just sent a bolt of excitement through me. “If you want, I could—”

“Yes!” I blurt out before he can even finish, the word tumbling out faster than I mean it to. His low chuckle rumbles across the table, and I feel my face heat up. “Uh… yes, please,” I add a little quieter.

“Alright,” he murmurs, still smiling as he pulls out his phone. “I’ll let ‘em know yer interested.”

I pick up a bit of potato, trying to play it cool. “You know what you want?” he asks without looking up.

“Kinda,” I admit, twisting my fork between my fingers. “I just… don’t know if it’d look good.”

That gets his attention. He looks up from his phone, giving me that patient, steady look that always pulls more words out of me than I intend.

I bite my lower lip. “I also… kinda want it to be a surprise. Is that… okay?”

He shrugs one shoulder, easy. “I’m sure we can figure it out. Not leavin’ you there by yourself, though.”

“Wasn’t plannin’ on it,” I say with a small smile. “Don’t think I’d want to be alone there without you.”

He nods, thumb tapping across his screen. “I’ll send you their contact info. Just shoot ‘em a message, and they’ll take care of you.”

“Perfect,” I beam, feeling a little giddy. I don’t know why this hits me so hard. Maybe it’s the normalcy of it all. After being turned down so many times, I finally get the chance to do this.

Simon finishes the message, sets his phone down, and glances back up at me. “We’ve also got time in the week to go to a salon, if you’d like.”

I blink again, running a hand through my hair instinctually. It’s long, the longest it’s been in years. That was something that was expected to be back on the farm. Used to hate how heavy it felt. 

But now, I’m used to the weight. Plus, I like the way Simon runs his fingers through it when it’s down, how it feels when one of the girls braids it. Still… the ends are rough. It’s been an incredibly long time since I’ve had anyone touch it with the proper equipment.

“Yeah,” I say softly after a beat, nodding. “I think I could use a trim. Thank you.”

He tilts his head slightly, studying me like he always does.

“What about you?” I ask. “Gonna get your hair cut at a sah-lawn,” I drawl, exaggerating the way he says the word just to mess with him.

He gives me that deadpan stare that never quite hides the amusement in his eyes. “Nah. I usually just do it myself or have one of the lads help. Might let one of ‘em give it a trim at the cabin.”

I raise a brow, smirking. “Really? You don’t wanna go to a proper barber or anything? Aren’t you worried Johnny’s gonna make you have matching mohawks or something?”

That gets a quiet huff of laughter out of him. “Tried it once. Made sure he wouldn’t do something like that again.”

I snort, picturing Simon with a mohawk. “Sad I missed that.”

He leans back in his chair, lips twitching. “Don’t be.” Then, after a moment, “If you’re up for it, there’s a Christmas market in Manchester tonight. Could get the rest of the shopping out of the way there.”

I perk up a little. “Yeah?”

He shrugs. “Yeah. It’s decent. Bit crowded, but it’s better than running around last minute.”

I nod, smiling at the thought. “Alright. After we finish?”

He grunts back in acknowledgment.

That’s how we end up in the middle of Manchester an hour later.

Just like Johnny’s hometown market, the town looks like it’s been swallowed by Christmas. Lights drape from building to building, tangled in strings of gold and red that shimmer against the stone facades.

The only difference is that the market here is easily five times the size of the one Johnny took us to. It sprawls across the square and spills into side streets, each lined with vendors selling everything from carved ornaments to steaming pies. The shop windows behind the stalls are packed with ribbons and glitter, beckoning shoppers inside.

Only a block in, Simon and I already have our arms full of bags. 

My breath puffs in the chill as I laugh. “You weren’t kidding. I think we just need something for Kyle and we’re all set.”

Simon grunts, scanning a nearby stall. “We should get him a Man U jersey,” he mutters, voice just low enough for me to hear. The laugh that leaves me is an ugly bark, only aiding to make him laugh as well. We continue to weave through another row of stalls, the crowd seeming to press closer as the night deepens.

Chatter and music mix with the sharp scents around us, and I notice Simon start to get quieter. His hand brushes mine every few steps, little touches that seem more like habit than coincidence.

When we stop at a booth selling carved wooden ornaments, I look over to find him a little tighter than normal. His shoulders sit high up, his jaw clearly set. There’s a tension in him that doesn’t match the gentle vibes we had earlier.

I shift a little closer, pretending to study a carved reindeer before leaning toward him.

“Hey,” I murmur, keeping my voice soft so it’s just for him. “I think I’m starting to get a little tired. Do you mind if we head home?”

His gaze flicks down at me, as if he’s reassessing me. 

I give him a gentle smile, lifting up the bags. “Plus, I think if I add anything else, my arms might fall off.”

He reaches for a bag, and I pull it away with a roll of my eyes. “Not asking you to carry more, just think I’m done for the night.” 

He takes me in one more time before giving me a solid nod. 

With expert precision that feels reminiscent of the kidnapping drill, he guides us out of the row of vendors and down the sidewalk.

Once we’re clear of the crowd, I watch his shoulder slowly start to fall back into place. I exhale, feeling a bit better myself now that he’s more relaxed.

It’s not a long walk back to the car, but he still adjusts his bags to free up a hand and offers it up to me. I quickly follow, before giving in and passing him a bag so I can more comfortably hold his hand. 

By the time we get home, his jaw isn’t locked tight and his shoulders are far looser, but there’s still a lingering heaviness to him that I can’t quite place.

We drop off the bags in the center of the living room, and I’m halfway through slipping off my coat when Simon turns suddenly. I startle, not expecting such a quick movement from him. Before I can ask what’s wrong, he pulls me into a hug. 

I’m still a bit confused, but I easily push my cheek into his chest. His breath puffs warmly against my hair before he murmurs, “Do you know how cute you are?”

I tilt my head against him, not expecting that to be the thing he’d say. “...Cute?”

“Mmhmm.”

I huff a laugh. “No, can’t say I do.”

He leans back just enough to look at me, his eyes softer now.

“Looked so cute tonight, lookin’ at everything with those big eyes o’ yours,” he says quietly. “Wanted to buy up the whole market for ya, just to see how big I could make ‘em.”

I pull myself back up against his chest and snort, the sound a little muffled by his shirt. “Glad you didn’t. That woulda been silly.”

I look up to see a smile on his face, the real one that always makes my heart throb. His fingers slide up, cradling my cheek.

“Not if it meant I got to see you smile,” he murmurs.

The world feels smaller in that moment. Just us, soft lamplight, the faint smell of dampness clinging to our clothes. I find myself smiling again without meaning to, leaning into his hand before he can even pull away.

He’s quiet for a moment, gaze fixed on me. I watch something in it spark before he finally talks, voice low and rough. “‘M sorry, love. Don’t think I have it in me to hold back anymore.”

Before I say or do anything, he presses closer, hips finding mine. The sudden weight of him against me making my breath catch. 

That’s when it clicks. The tension that’s been there all along hasn’t been frustration or worry. It’s been… hunger.

“You’ve been drivin’ me mad,” he murmurs, words brushing the shell of my ear. “So sweet with Johnny’s family. So damn beautiful under those lights. Such a sweet girl, explorin’ my world.”

My pulse stutters. The air between us feels instantly heavier, humming with unspoken words. 

His hands slide down, settling at my hips, thumbs tracing small, possessive circles that make it hard to think.

“Been wantin’ you,” he admits softly. “Every time you smiled, every time you laughed. Just wanted to pull you close, show ‘em you were mine.”

His hand comes between us, and I can’t help spreading my legs for him, letting him rub me over my clothes however he wants.

“Yours,” I say as he successfully finds my clit over my clothes. I buck up into his hand.

“Atta girl. Get nice and wet for me. Wanna get you drippin’ so I can just slide in, ya?”

I nod against his chest, easily submitting to him. It’s insane just how far we’ve come in a few months. The man I thought hated me, now making me weak with such little effort. 

Simon removes his hand from me, making me let out a needy whine. With a quiet shush, he unbuttons my jeans just enough to slip his fingers inside my panties. 

My folds are already starting to get slick, making him groan against my ear, and I swear I can feel his cock throb between us.

“Fuck, just like that. So soaked already for me,” he growls, moving to rub my clit in tight circles.

I gasp, spreading my legs wider, giving him better access. Simon takes the opportunity to tug my jeans and panties down, exposing me to the cool air. 

His fingers are quickly back on me, teasing my folds. He can’t help but let out a low, approving growl at how needy I’m getting.

“Such a sweet girl, so eager for me, aren’t you?” he murmurs.

I whimper in response, arching into his touch as a finger finally slips inside me. He pumps it slowly, softly working me open before quickly adding another one. 

I’m a panting mess, breathing into his shirt, clutching onto it for dear life as his fingers settle right at the spot I need them to. He starts to curl them the way I like, and my body starts to tremble lightly. I lean more into his chest, needing him to help keep me up already. 

My walls clench down around his fingers, so desperate, not realizing just how much I needed this. 

My head tilts up to find him smirking down at me, lust heavy in his eyes. “There she is,” he coos at me. “Gonna come right here in the living room? Drip all over the floor?”

He pushes his scent out, making my mind go a little fuzzy. I don’t even realize I’ve nodded until after I’ve done it. 

“Please, Simon…” I whimper, my hips shamelessly bucking up into his hand. The cool air and the thrusts of his fingers have me shivering against him. 

“Don’t worry, love. I got you. Go ahead and be a good girl for me, and then we can take this to the bedroom, yeah?”

“Y-yeah,” I whisper, desperate for more, for release. My body is on fire now, every nerve desperate and aching with need.

Simon smirks, a dark, hungry look in his eyes as he watches me come undone on his fingers. He pumps them faster, harder, his palm grinding against my clit with each thrust.

The obscene sound of my arousal fills the room, my scent mixing with it. I feel my cheeks burn with embarrassment and lust. 

“Fuck, just like that, baby. Gonna come all over my fingers?” he growls, voice low and rough with his own desire.

I whimper, too lost in sensation to do anything else. My body is his, I’m completely at his mercy as he works me towards my peak.

With a final hard thrust and press of his thumb against my clit, I’m coming undone. I cry out, back arching sharply as my walls clamp down like a vice around his fingers.

“Simon!” I nearly scream, slick gushing out to soak his hand and the floor beneath us. He works me through it, fingers gentling as I start to come down.

It’s only once I’ve slumped against his chest, feeling boneless, that he pulls his fingers out of me. I watch as he brings them up to his lips to lick them clean.

“Delicious,” he purrs before scooping me up into his big, strong arms. I let out an undignified squeak.

My pants are still wrapped around my ankles as he carries me toward the bedroom. “H-holy shit,” I breathe. “I… I don’t know why I never considered you’d be able to carry me.”

Simon chuckles darkly at my dazed comment. “What? You think these muscles are just for you to drool over?”

As we reach the bedroom, he kicks the door shut behind us. He sets me down gently on the bed, eyes hungry as they trace over my naked half. He stands up, moving to lock the door before moving to help undress the rest of me.

“Let’s get you out of these clothes, yeah? Need to see all of you.” 

I can only watch with hooded eyes, cheeks flushed as he reveals more and more of me. My shirt gets tossed on the floor, my bra quickly joining it until I’m in nothing but my socks.

I work on kicking them off as his hands come to cup my breasts. “Beautiful,” he breathes. He thumbs my nipples, rolling them between his fingers until they’re stiff peaks. I arch into his touch with a soft moan, craving more.

He leans down to capture one of my nipples in his mouth, suckling greedily as his hands roam my curves. I tangle my fingers in his hair, holding him to me as he gives his attention to my nipple.

His other hand trails down my stomach, fingertips tracing the lines of my body until he reaches my dripping folds. He groans around my nipple as he feels how wet I still am for him.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, releasing my nipple with a pop.

He brings his fingers up to show me, coated in my arousal. “All this from just a little fingering. You’re going to be the death of me, love.” 

My legs spread further on their own. “It’s all for you,” I breathe. “Only for you.”

He smirks at my words before he settles between my thighs, rubbing his hard, clothed cock along my slick folds. I whimper at the friction, hips rolling up to meet his. The outside of his pants are quickly covered in my slick, and the sight of it makes something in Simon snap.

He quickly stands up, undoing his belt and shoving his pants down in a matter of seconds. His shirt and boxers are quick to follow, cock slapping against his stomach as he approaches me on the bed again in nothing but his dog tags.

“God, Simon,” I breathe. “I need you.”

“I know, love,” he reassures me as he starts lining himself up with my entrance. The broad head of his cock nudges against my opening, and it's at that moment that I remember just how much I have to stretch for him.

I tense slightly, a bit nervous for some reason, but he’s right there to reassure me.

“Breathe for me, love. Take a deep breath and relax. You’ve taken me before, you’ll be able to do it again.” 

He starts pushing forward slowly, his thick cock spreading my walls obscenely.

I gasp, feeling so incredibly full already, and just the first few inches of him are in. It’s a lot easier this time than last time, like my body knows it’s him and easily opens up. 

I listen to him, taking a deep breath, and even more of him easily slides in.

“That's it, love. Just like that. Fuck, you’re so goddman tight,” he grits out. I can feel every throb of his cock as he settles for a moment, stretching me out. After a few short moments, he starts pushing again, and it’s just enough to have him settle flush against my hips.

I take a moment to adjust to his size, feeling so full, but in the best way possible. After a few deep breaths, I’m able to relax my walls around him.

“O-okay,” I breathe out, my voice a little shaky. “I’m good.”

I look up at him with hooded eyes, noting how it looks like he’s holding himself back again. 

“Please,” I whine. “Need you to move, wanna feel more of you.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. With a slight growl, he starts to move, hips snapping forward as he thrusts himself inside me. I cry out, back arching off the bed as he bottoms out.

The bed creaks beneath us with each powerful thrust of his hips.

I can only hang on, nails reaching up to dig into his back as he takes me. Each thrust sends sparks of pleasure shooting through my body, walls clenching down around him again. 

“Yes. Yes, fuck! Just like that!” I scream, too lost in the feeling of him inside me, stretching me, claiming me. 

He leans down to capture my lips in a bruising kiss, tongue delving into my mouth. I return it just as fierce, all teeth and tongue, as we lose ourselves in each other.

He hooks my legs over his shoulders, nearly bending me in half as he pounds into me. The new angle allows him to go even deeper, hitting that special spot inside of me with every thrust.

“Ah, yes!” I cry out. “There, please, right there, fuck.” My head falls back as he keeps ruthlessly pounding into me.

“Shit,” he hisses. “I can feel you getting tighter.”

His dog tags dangle between us, and with a quick motion, he tosses them over his shoulder and onto his back, keeping them out of the way. We both chuckle for half a second before he hits that spot inside of me that just turns me to mush.

I start to get really close, my body tensing and trembling beneath him. In a moment of desperation, I move my head to the side and start nibbling along his tattooed arm, my teeth just lightly grazing his skin. 

“Fuck, baby. You like that?” he growls, his thrusts become slightly harder and a bit more erratic.

I’m too focused on the feeling of him inside me, the way my body is stretched taut around his thick cock to respond. 

I’m so unbearably close, teetering on the edge of ecstasy. My pussy clenches down on him like a vice, trying to hold him inside me.

“Please, please, please…” I babble incoherently, drool starting to leak from the corner of my mouth as it stays latched around his arm. The taste of his skin, the overwhelming presence of his scent, the way he feels inside of me, it’s all too much.

My mind goes blank as I chase my high, my eyes glazing over as I take in his muscular form above me. His muscles ripple and flex as he pounds into me. My eyes trail over his stomach and chest before following the trail of his tattoos down his arm.

My teeth lightly dig in more as my orgasm suddenly bursts through me. My pussy clamps down around his cock like a vice, walls fluttering and pulsing around him.

“Fuck, yes! That’s it, love. Come on my cock,” he growls, not slowing his thrusts at all. 

I’m shaking and trembling beneath him, body overloaded with pleasure. My teeth and nails dig into him as I ride through the waves of pleasure. 

He leans down, kissing my temple and panting into my hair.

“Fuck, takin' me so well,” he murmurs, pulling up to stare at where my mouth connects to his arm. “Guess they really are for droolin’ over, huh?”

As my orgasm subsides, I go limp and pull my mouth away from his arm, completely spent. 

We both share a small laugh as he picks up his thrusts, his knot now starting to catch at my entrance. My hips jerk slightly, a bit overstimulated from my recent orgasm.

“‘S ok, love. Just relax again, and I’ll get us all tied up,” he tells me.

I whimper softly as I feel his knot going a bit deeper, stretching me even more. I take a deep breath and do my best to listen to relax.

“Good girl,” he praises, turning me into jello once again. 

His thrusts turn a bit more shallow as he thrusts his knot back and forth against my entrance. “Just like that, love. Gonna fill up this sweet cunt right up.”

With a final, hard thrust, his knot locks into place. I gasp as I feel his hot seed start to pump into me, coating my insides. 

He moans above me as he works through his orgasm. His body shakes for a moment until he lowers himself down gently, like he’s worried about crushing me. His breath is still uneven when he buries his face into my neck.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, voice hoarse, almost slurred like he’s drunk. “Love you. Love bein’ tied to you like this.”

For a heartbeat, I forget how to breathe. The words sink in and make my stomach flip.

“You… you love me?” The question slips out before I can stop it, too fragile to sound real.

He goes still for a moment, then lifts his head. His eyes are heavy, but clear as that small smile greets me. 

“‘Course I do,” he says simply, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

For once, I can’t find the words to respond. I just stare at him, brain short-circuiting as I try to put a singular thought together,

He tilts his head, reading whatever’s flickering across my face. “You don’t have to say it back,” he murmurs. “Not if you’re not ready.”

I shake my head, blinking fast. “It’s not that,” I say, voice cracking a little. “I’ve felt the same for some time now, I just… I didn’t expect to hear it from you so soon.”

He raises a brow, something like amusement flickering behind his eyes. I take a shaky breath, trying to laugh but only managing a soft huff.

“Thought I was just bein’ a lovesick pup,” I admit. “Didn’t think you felt the same.”

His smile widens just a little. “You think I’d be standin’ guard in the infirmary for two days if I didn’t?”

A wild grin splits across my face now. “Guess not,” I whisper.

He leans down, pressing his forehead to mine, his voice a low rumble against my skin. “You’ve had me from the start, love. Sorry I had you thinkin’ otherwise.”

Something in my chest tugs, and I swear I can feel the last bits of doubt I had about us melting away. I wrap my arms around him, breathing him in, letting the moment anchor me. 

We end up drifting asleep like that, tangled up in one another as the day's events tug us under. His knot stays inside me, but by the time I wake, it’s deflated. The warmth and scent of our lovemaking lingers in the air as I stir awake.

We shifted in our sleep, both turned onto our sides, but our legs and arms are still a mess of limbs and blankets. He’s got me curled up into his chest, protective even when he sleeps.

I blink slowly, letting my eyes adjust to the pale morning light that filters through the curtains. My gaze drifts up to his face, admiring how peaceful he looks, relaxed in a way I rarely get to see. The shadows beneath his eyes are softer here, his mouth slack and gentle instead of tight and locked with his jaw.

For a long time, I just watch him breathe, chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm.

Last night drifts back through my mind in flashes. The warmth of his hands, the way he said he loved me, the groan he let out when his knot finally settled inside me.

I can’t help the little shift of my hips, the faint squirm as I think about the memories. The sheets tug slightly, and the motion is enough to stir him.

Simon’s brow furrows faintly before his eyes crack open, bleary and heavy with sleep. He blinks once, takes me in, then lets his eyes fall shut again with a low, content groan.

His arm tightens around my waist, pulling me closer, and he buries his face into my hair, his breath warm against my scalp.

A soft, sleepy growl hums in his chest before he mumbles, voice rough and low. “Up early, love?”

I blush, caught red-handed. “Couldn’t help it,” I admit, squirming slightly as his arm tightens around me. “Started thinking about last night and just… couldn’t get back to sleep.”

He hums again, the sound low and indulgent as he noses into my neck, breathing in my scent. “Mmmm. I can smell that,” he rumbles, voice dipping deliciously darker. “Gettin’ all hot and bothered again for me, love?”

I nod, biting my lip as heat rushes to my cheeks.

“Fuck, you smell good,” he growls. The vibration of his voice sends shivers down my spine, and I feel a fresh wave of slick gather between my thighs.

He senses it immediately, because of course he does.

His hands wander lazily down my body before finding their place over my breast. His thumb brushes over my nipple, drawing a soft sound from me.

“My, my,” he murmurs, teasing. “Someone’s feeling needy this morning.” 

“Probably has something to do with falling asleep on your knot,” I shoot back, breathless but grinning.

He chuckles, a dark, pleased sound. “Mmm. Could be,” he purrs. 

Before I can say anything else, he shifts, rolling us over until I’m straddling him. I gasp, catching myself with my palms on his chest, heart pounding. He looks up at me through heavy lashes, expression hungry enough to steal the air right out of my lungs.

“Fuck,” he says as his eyes roam over me like I’m something sacred. “Look at you. So goddamn gorgeous, even first thing in the morning.”

I blush harder, not able to stop the triumphant smile that tugs at my lips. “You’re not so bad yourself, you know,” I tease, letting my hands brush along his chest.

He growls softly, one brow arched. “Not so bad, huh? Careful, love, flattery might get you into trouble.”

I giggle, shifting slightly to lean down, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth where the scar crawls out of. “Hmm… think I can handle the consequences,” I murmur.

His hands slide to my hips, holding me steady as he tilts his head, lips brushing against mine in a slow, lazy kiss. 

There’s no rush or frantic urgency. It’s just the two of us, tangled up together in the early morning light.

That is, until my pussy decides she needs to run the show and starts practically dripping slick onto his hardening cock.

He smirks against my lips, hands squeezing my hips. “Gettin’ excited, love?” he teases.

I bury my face against his chest to try to hide my embarrassment. “Shut up,” I mumble, even as I grin down at him slightly.

He chuckles. “You weren’t kiddin’ about gettin’ all hot and bothered when you’re on top of a blonde.”

“You know, I can always punch you awake again next time,” I shoot back.

He grins up at me, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Mmm, I think I prefer this method much more, love. Definitely a better way to start the day.”

To emphasize his point, he rolls his hips up against mine, letting me feel his cock pressing against my slick folds. I gasp, back arching slightly at the sensation.

“Oh!” I breathe out. “Fuck, you’re already so hard.”

“Hard not to be when you’re rubbin’ up on me, love.”

He rolls his hips again, rubbing his thick length against my slit. I moan softly, head falling back as I start to grind down against him instinctively.

He groans, hands gripping my hips tightly as he meets my movements. “Fuck, you’re so fuckin’ wet,” he growls. “Gonna slide right in, ain’t ya?”

A spark of determination blooms in my chest. I want to take him all at once. I bite my bottom lip and nod before lifting up slightly. 

Reaching down, I grip the base of his cock, lightly stroking it a few times before moving my hand up to steady him closer to the head.

I rub the head of his cock over my slit a few times, coating it before I try my best to sit down on it.

There’s a slight bit of resistance before his head slowly starts pushing in. With a slow breath, I feel myself stretching around him, pulling him in deeper. 

“Fuck,” I curse as my hips instinctively end up sliding down to meet with his own. I whimper as I feel his full length inside of me, completely filling me. There’s a slight bit of tension, making me lean forward to pull out the last bit of his cock where his knot would be.

I let out a whimper. “Fuck, you’re so deep,” I pant out, trying to adjust to his size. It doesn’t take long, just a few seconds, probably since we had just been at this a few hours ago.

Slowly, I’m able to start rocking up and down without much friction.

He curses under his breath, and I watch as he does his best not to thrust up into me, letting me take my time and use him as I need to.

“Fuck.” I swear. Damn, is that the only word I know right now?

“You feel so good,” I manage to get out as I settle on a slow, rocking rhythm. Pants and breathy moans leave me as Simon’s hands run up and down the outside of my thighs.

I can feel every inch of him throbbing inside of me, stretching me out so perfectly. It’s intense, slightly too much, but in the best way possible.

“God, I swear I can feel you in my throat,” I tease.

He chuckles breathlessly. “‘S ok, love. Take your time. Make yourself feel good.”

I nod, continuing to slowly rock against him. Suddenly, I feel a spark of pleasure shoot through me as his cock drags against a sensitive spot inside of me.

“Oh fuck!” I cry out, back arching and head getting thrown back as I grind harder against him.

He groans, hands gripping my hips tighter as I clench down around him. “That’s it, love. Found a sweet spot, didn’t ya?” he growls. 

I moan in response, giving him a pathetic nod. He rocks his hips up ever so slightly so that his cock presses harder against my insides. The next time I lift up, my head goes foggy from how good his cock feels rubbing up against that spot.

 I know that I’m only lifting up maybe an inch or two, but the way that he’s grinding against me has me almost drooling all over him again.

My breaths start to turn into frantic pants as I desperately try to keep the motion of rocking his cock against that spot.

My hips start to stutter, unable to move the way I need them to just because of how good it all feels. Simon seems to catch on when I let out a pathetic whimper.

“I got ya,” he tells me, grabbing my waist and helping lift me up and down. My eyes roll back with my head as he helps guide me slowly up and down his cock.

It’s not fast and feral like sex normally is for me, but maybe that’s what’s got my legs shaking so much. The feeling of him slowly rubbing over that same spot has me completely lost in myself. 

“Puh-please,” I whimper as he guides me up and down. “D-don’t stop. Please don’t stop. H-holy fuck.”

My voice is broken and raspy as I feel him tense below me. 

“Please, please, please,” I’m chanting mindlessly as he gets me closer and closer to the edge. My legs shake as my walls tighten around him. White hot bliss is right in front of my face, yet so far at the same time.

I grip and claw at his chest in front of me, just needing something, anything more, being so close to the edge. My whining fills the space between us, loud and raw. I don’t care that I’m being so loud, I need this.

It seems Simon on the other hand, does care.

Before I can even process what’s happening, something cold and smooth presses against my bottom lip. My eyes snap open, not realizing I had closed them. Looking down, I find Simon holding his dog tags to my mouth, watching me expectantly.

Instinctively, my tongue snakes out, tasting the cool metal and the saltiness of his fingers. I’m panting as I continue to roll my hips against him. The metallic tang is strange but electric, only heightened by the salt of his skin. 

He nudges the dog tag gently against my bottom teeth. “Bite,” he instructs, his eyes dark and commanding before adding, “gently.”

I lower my jaw carefully, holding the tag between my teeth, thankful for the rubber barrier that’s around them. My breaths come in ragged pants around them, muffling my moans just slightly. The hand that offered me the tag slides back to my waist, helping me rock against that spot that sends sparks straight to my core.

Drool mixes with the metal against my tongue as my eyes lock with his, both os us caught in the shared closeness. His gaze drives me, spurring me to keep grinding down, making every nerve in my body light up.

I let myself feel everything, so lost in the sensations that when my orgasm finally crashes over me, I lose all sense of control. My body trembles, spasming against him as I work through wave after wave. 

I come back to myself moments later, blinking at the world around me as the dog tag slips from my mouth, bouncing wetly against my chest before landing on his. 

“Atta girl,” he praises from below me. His husky tone is thick with approval and desire, letting me know he enjoyed that just as much as I did.

My hips come to a stop as I try to catch my breath, but the aftershocks in my pussy refuse to let me rest. I collapse slightly, coming to lie against him as I search for a steady breath.

“Fuck,” I murmur between ragged exhales. “That was… fuckin’ hot.”

His chuckle moves us up and down. He rubs my back before giving a light kiss to the side of my temple. 

“Glad you liked it,” he murmurs, voice tender but still edged with arousal. “Thought it might have been a bit… weird.”

“No,” I insist, breath catching. “No, fuck. That… that was just what I needed.”

He chuffs, lightly thrusting into me. I nuzzle the side of his head, pulling up just a little to kiss the corner of his mouth. 

“Seems like you liked it too,” I tease, letting my hips respond instinctively.

“Was hot,” he says with a breath. “Seein’ you with my tags…. might… might have you just wear ‘em.”

I cock my head, regaining enough composure to tease back, starting to rock my hips again.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, with that lustful, longing look in his eyes again. “Wanna… wanna collar you with ‘em.”

My heart stutters and my hips follow.

“Yeah?” I whisper softly, voice slightly trembling, betraying the emotions stirring in my chest. So much is being said with so few words, and after his confession last night, my chest feels so full.

He studies me, eyes dark and intent, seemingly running through something in his head before his expression steels.

“Yeah,” he says finally, firm and sure.

And with that, he grabs the chain around his neck and slides it gently over my head. My chest tightens and my heart hammers as tears prick my eyes. The emotion of the gesture make my hips pick up again.

I rock back and forth on his cock, hoping that the motion portrays everything I’m feeling right now.

“Alpha,” I breathe, as the weight settles around my neck. His hand comes up to cradle the side of my face. I nuzzle into it before getting back to trying to make him cum. 

My hips bounce up and down freely now. His head falls back as he watches me with heavy eyes. The hand on his cheek slides down to grab the tags, pulling me just a bit closer, and I can’t help but close the distance between us.

The kiss we share is passionate and feels like we’re welding our two bodies together with how heated it is. 

All of a sudden, his hands fly to my hips, guiding me to move faster as he pulls away.

“Fuck,” he growls as he starts slamming me down against him. 

Small moans and mewls leave me as another orgasm comes creeping up on me again.

“S-Simon I’m…”

The way his knot catches against my entrance tells me all I need to know about how close he also is.

“Yes. Please,” I whine out. Not needing any further permission, he slams me down harder, before his knot pops into me. I come instantly, so caught up in the moment that I can’t find it in myself to be embarrassed by how quick that was.

He lets out a growly moan as I feel his cock jerking and throbbing inside of me. 

I let myself fully lower down on top of his chest, head turned to the side, as we both try to catch our breath. His hands wrap around me, keeping me from trying to move while he’s still knotted to me.

The soft rumble of his chest vibrates beneath me, and I blink, realizing with a startled little laugh that I’ve been purring and he’s responding to it.

“That was… nice,” I murmur softly a few minutes later.

He nods wordlessly, and I smile against his chest before lifting up slightly to get a better look at his face.

“Did you mean it?” I ask tentatively.

He looks back at me, brows connecting with one another, and I swallow hard. “You want this to be my collar?”

He glances away for a moment. “Doesn’t have to be. Can get you something nicer,” he says quietly.

“No,” I say quickly. “I like it. Just… wanted to make sure you meant it…”

His gaze softens as he turns back to me. “I did.”

Tears prick my eyes again, and I look down, biting my lower lip to stop it from trembling before looking back at him. Once again, he’s got me speechless, unable to form the words I want to.

So instead, I settle on a quiet, breathless whisper. “Thank you, alpha.”

It’s drizzling as we wander down the quiet streets of Simon’s hometown. Fog curls around the edges of buildings and parks, clinging to lampposts and the wrought-iron fence of a nearby playground.

Our bellies are still pleasantly full from the “proper English breakfast” at a tucked-away cafe that was near our house. Simon and I had playfully argued the whole meal about what qualified as breakfast, and more importantly, what qualified as pudding. Certainly, it wasn’t the hockey puck of meat I had been served.

Now, hands intertwined, we cross a small concrete bridge that goes over a narrow canal.

“Got in trouble here once,” Simon says, his tone strangely casual, almost too calm. 

I tilt my head to look up at him. “Oh?” I prompt, raising an eyebrow.

“Long story,” he says, but the corner of his mouth twitches. “Let’s just say, it involved a lot of running and a very angry groundskeeper.”

I laugh. “I can only imagine the type of trouble you could get into here,” I remark.

He nudges me gently with his shoulder. “No doubt it was any less than what you got yourself into,” he shoots back.

I roll my eyes with a knowing smile. “You’re probably not wrong.”

We stroll a little further until we reach a florist that’s bursting at the seams with Christmas decorations and greenery. 

The scent of pine, cinnamon, and something sweet drifts onto the damp street, wrapping anyone who walks by in a festive hug. Simon pauses, tilts his head toward the door, and opens it for me with a flourish that makes me grin.

Stepping inside, I find the shop is even more magical than the exterior suggested. Wreaths hang next to each other along one wall, each decorated with ribbons, ornaments, and other sparkling bobbles. Miniature Christmas trees seem to cover every surface, equally as decorated as the wreaths.

“Hello— oh!” a warm voice calls from behind that counter. I glance up to see an older beta with a bright, welcoming smile. “Simon Riley. Is that you, love?”

Simon’s shoulders relax, a soft chuckle escaping him. “Aye, Aggie. ‘S me,” he grins.

I watch him, intrigued by the easy familiarity of his greeting. 

“It’s been ages!” Aggie exclaims as she hurries around the counter. She opens her arms wide and pulls Simon into a warm, motherly hug.

He leans down a little to meet her halfway, a quiet laugh rumbling in his chest. “Still runnin’ this place single-handed?” he asks.

“Oh, you know it,” she jokes with a warm smile. “None of the boys wanted to take over somethin’ so ‘frilly’, they said.”

The two share a knowing laugh before Aggie shakes her head. “I swear, every time I see you, you’re getting taller. Or maybe I’m just shrinking.”

Simon huffs a small laugh, the sound genuine. “Bit of both, maybe.”

I can’t help but smile at the two. There’s something about the way she’s lightly fussing over him that warms my heart.

Aggie’s gaze slides toward me then, eyes bright with curiosity. “And who’s this lovely thing you’ve brought with you, hmm?”

Simon glances my way, a hint of shyness flickering across his eyes.

“Aggie, this is Boo,” he says. “Boo, this is Aggie. She’s been runnin’ this shop since before I could see over the counter.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, ma’am,” I say, extending my hand to her.

Aggie lets out a warm laugh and takes my hand between both of hers. “My, aren’t you a polite one,” she muses. “Can’t imagine how Simon got a hold of such a sweet omega such as yourself. I still remember when he’d come in her with his mom, trackin’ mud around the shop.”

Simon grumbles under his breath, but there’s amusement tucked in the sound. “Bloody hell, no need to tell her everything, Aggie.”

“Oh, but I do,” she says with a wink. “Who else is going to embarrass you and keep you humble?”

I bite back a grin, enjoying how flustered he looks. 

Aggie moves back behind the counter, walking over to a row of poinsettias. “Now then, you’re not just here to show off your new omega, are you? Pickin’ up flowers for you mum, I presume?”

The question is so casual, so kind, that it takes me a second to notice the shift in Simon’s expression.

“Aye,” he says a bit quieter. “For Mum.”

Aggie nods softly, her tone turning gentle in an instant. “Of course, love. Know just the thing.” 

She disappears toward the back of the shop, the faint hum of the cooler filling the air. When she returns, she’s holding a small poinsettia arrangement in a simple, tinsel-covered pot.

“She’ll love this,” Aggie says warmly, passing it over with both hands.

Simon’s expression softens, something almost wistful flickering behind his eyes. He slides a folded bundle of notes across the counter before taking the pot carefully from her.

“Oh, now you stop that,” Aggie protests, pushing the money toward him. “You know I won’t take that.”

“Aggie,” Simon says a bit firmly. “Please.”

They share a long look before Aggie sighs, sliding the bundle towards her and stuffing it in her apron. “Fine. You’ve always been a stubborn one. Just know that I’m only taking this because she’s here.”

He smiles faintly, leaning in towards her. “Believe it or not, she’s even more stubborn than I am,” he says, jerking his head towards me with a wink.

“Hey!” a shout in my defense, making the pair chuckle.

Simon hands me the poinsettia, giving Aggie one final hug before we start heading out.

Aggie calls out a cheerful, “Take care, loves,” as the bell over the door jingles behind us. The warmth of the shop fades away as the damp chill of the street settles back in.

We walk in silence for a while, boots scuffing against the wet pavement. My anxiety starts to creep in. I glance over at Simon, but I find his expression unreadable.

“So, um… we’re going to meet your mom?” I ask finally, my voice careful, a hint of worry threading through it.

He looks over at me, giving me a solid nod. “Yes,” he says quietly.

I let out a breath that fogs in the cold air around us. “Some warning would’ve been nice,” I mutter, pulling the flowers closer to my chest. “I would’ve brought her something, or… I don’t know. Certainly would’ve tried to look more presentable.”

He lifts one shoulder in a nonchalant, infuriatingly calm way. “Doesn’t matter.”

My jaw drops a little. This is absolutely ridiculous. “Maybe to you,” I shoot back, frowning up at him. “But first impressions are kind of important, Simon.”

That earns a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth, a smirk that he’s trying to hide. His gaze flicks down to me, slow and deliberate, before returning to the street ahead of us. “Think you’ll do fine,” he says, voice turning a bit fond.

The drizzle picks up, but I’m too frustrated to have it bother me. 

“Still,” I mumble, mostly to myself. “Would’ve been nice to know.”

He doesn’t answer right away, and I catch the smallest shift in his expression. Whatever he’s thinking, he keeps to himself.

Silence stretches between us as we keep walking. “So…” I start carefully. “What’s she like? Your mom.”

His mouth twitches again. “Stubborn,” he says after a beat. “Didn’t take nonsense from me or my brother.”

My brows lift, surprised. “You have a brother, too? Is he going to be there?”

A shadow crosses his face, subtle but unmistakable. “Yeah,” he says quietly. Turning his gaze back to the street ahead of us.

Shit. Clearly that wasn’t the right question to ask. I bite down my next one about his tone, because something in his tone tells me he’s done answering questions.

“Well,” I say instead, forcing a lightness I don’t feel. “At least we know where you get your stubbornness, then.”

That earns me a small, sidelong smile. “Guess so.”

We fall back into silence. My fingers tighten around the pot, the cold air turning them a bit red. The streets grow quieter as we move away from the town center, houses thinning into stone walls and patches of old oak trees.

When we turn the next corner, the landscape opens up into a gentle rise, and my breath catches.

An old graveyard peeks out through the fog. Its wrought-iron gates stand slightly ajar, coated in rain droplets. Beyond them, rows of weathered headstones stretch out over slopes and mounds. The drizzle around us seems to mute the world into a gentle sort of stillness.

For a moment, I can only just stare as the realization hits me. 

I look over at Simon, but his focus is elsewhere. His jaw is clenched tight, eyes distant in a way that makes me feel dull.

The poinsettia suddenly feels heavier in my hands. I shift it into the crook of my arm, reaching out for Simon with my free hand. His hand twitches at first, as if he wasn’t expecting the contact, before gently curling into mine.

He leads me through the gates and down a narrow gravel path. The fog seems to hang lower here, sitting comfortably on the different stones we pass.

Simon slows, and I can feel the subtle shift in him before his scent hits. It’s turned more acrid, letting me know just how upset he really is, despite wearing a decent poker face. 

As we come upon a pair of matching headstones, his hand slowly separates from mine. I stop beside him, close enough that our shoulders nearly touch, before readjusting the poinsettia so it’s cradled against my chest.

Simon clears his throat, gesturing to the headstone on the left. “Mum,” he says before gesturing to the other one. “Tommy.”

My heart tightens as my eyes trace over the names carved into the stone. Seeing that they share the same end-of-life dates hits me hard in the gut. I know better than to ask what happened, knowing this much is already enough.

The air feels heavier, Simon’s scent tangling with the damp earth and pine around us.

I lower myself onto the wet ground without thinking, the cold seeping into my knees as I brush away a few stray leaves clinging to the base of the headstones.

“It’s very nice to meet you both,” I say softly, setting the poinsettia in front of his mother’s grave. The red petals shine against the gray stone, almost giving it a bit more life. “He, uh… he picked these for you.”

The corners of my lips curl up in a small, sympathetic smile. “Or, well… I guess Aggie picked them out, but Simon thought it’d be good to bring you some.”

For a moment, I don’t know what to do with my hands. Simon stands behind me, silent as ever. I swallow, deciding to fill the silence in the only way I know how.

“You’ve got a good one here, Mrs. Riley,” I murmur to the stone. “Stubborn as hell, but I think you already knew that. Seems to be the word of the day, really.”

A small smile tugs at my lips. “He took me to breakfast this morning at this cute little cafe. Not sure if this is a British thing, but he tried to convince me that the sausage I was eating was called pudding.”

Simon exhales softly behind me, a breath that’s almost a laugh.

“Think he’s tryin’ to pull one over on me, Mrs. Riley,” I tease, still keeping my voice low and steady.

There’s another small beat of silence as a bird starts chirping in a nearby tree. I smile, letting out a small hum. “Can’t complain too much, though. He’s been really good to me… Giving me a second chance at life when I’m not even sure I’ve deserved it. You’d be proud of him, I’m sure.”

My throat tightens a little, but I push through it.

“And Tommy,” I say softly. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to meet you, but if you’re anything like your brother, no doubt the two of you together is just nothing but trouble.” 

The drizzle starts to pick up around us, the patter of it dropping onto the stone helping to fill the bits of silence.

I stand back up, wiping off my knees quickly as I stand next to Simon. He’s staring down at the graves with that faraway look again. Without thinking, I reach for his hand again and squeeze. He doesn’t squeeze back, but he doesn’t let go either. 

We stand there in silence for a long moment.

Then quietly, Simon exhales. “Used to come here every leave,” he murmurs. “Then things got a little crazy, and I couldn’t make it all the time.”

I glance up at him, not saying anything, only being there for when he does speak.

“Mum would have loved you,” he says after a moment. “Probably would’ve cooked you that breakfast herself.”

A small smile tugs at my lips, and I rest my head against his shoulder, eyes fixed on her name carved into the stone. The drizzle starts to cling to my lashes, and I do my best to blink them away.

Simon lets out a quiet huff. “And no doubt Tommy would’ve tried to take you from me. Never could have anything nice to myself.”

Despite myself, a laugh slips out. 

“Would’ve liked to see him try,” I tease lightly, the sound breaking through the gray quiet around us.

Simon glances down, a faint ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. For a heartbeat, the heaviness lifts, replaced by something small and tender that feels almost like sunlight behind the clouds.

He squeezes my hand once. “C’mon,” he murmurs. “Let’s get outta the rain before you catch somethin’. Yer hands are freezin’.”

A bell jingles as Ghost pushes it open, holding it open for me like he always did. I step inside and instantly feel a mix of nerves and excitement swirl in my chest. The place smells faintly of antiseptic and cleaner, but there’s a cozy floral scent that lingers as well. It’s cozy and far less intimidating than I’d imagine for a place that Ghost gets tattooed at.

“Oi! You lot finally made it,” a thick Manchester accent calls out from a back room. A tall man with ink covering almost every bit of exposed skin steps out from the back, walking up quickly to the front of the shop.

“Ghosty! Mate. How the hell’ve you been? It’s been too long.” 

The two alphas clasp hands and pull into a quick side hug before the more tattooed man turns his sharp grin on me.

“And you must be Boo,” Dutch says, extending a hand my way.

I take it, returning a firm shake. “Yes, sir.”

“And she’s a bloody yank. Boy, you sure know how to pick ‘em, don’t you, mate?” Dutch elbows Ghost playfully.

Before anyone can respond, a softer voice cuts in. “Ignore him,” says a petite woman stepping out from behind Dutch. She’s covered in delicate ink from her neck down, and the smile she wears makes her eyes crinkle.

“I’m Lily,” she says, offering her hand to me.

I shake it easily, smiling back. That’s when I realize the cozy floral scent filling the shop is hers. It blends so perfectly with the space that I hadn’t even recognized it as another omega’s scent.

“Boo,” I introduce myself again.

“We’re mighty happy to have you, love,” she says kindly. “I’ll be here to turn down the alpha vibes and make sure you’re comfy while you get your ink done.”

“Thank you, miss,” I reply with a small nod.

Ghost tilts his head slightly toward here. “This is the omega I told you about,” he says quietly.

“Oh,” I murmur, the connection clicking into place. “Yeah, that makes sense now.”

Lily tilts her head in curiosity, so I continue, a little sheepish. “I’ve been turned away from a few shops for being an omega. They told me ink messes with your fertility and hormones and all that.” My cheeks warm slightly in embarrassment at the memory.

She hums in understanding, her smile patient. “Well, I think I’m proof that’s not the case, she says, gesturing to herself. “Got a six-month-old at home. He’s with my parents today. They came down from Sunderland for the holiday. Wanted to see pup’s first Christmas.”

A genuine smile creeps over my face. “That’s amazing. I’d love to see pictures when you get the chance.”

“Of course, love,” she beams.

“Right then,” Dutch cuts in, clapping his hands once. “Why don’t I show you the designs I worked up, and we’ll get the ball rolling?”

I nod and let him guide me toward his station.

After we had come home, I had a chance to reach out to Dutch and send him some reference photos and ideas for what I wanted. He also helped me figure out how we could have Ghost there in the shop without him seeing the tattoo I was getting. 

Since I was getting a design on my hip, we decided to put a divider in front of my lower half, that way Ghost could still see me without ruining the surprise.

I was thankful he was being a good sport about this, even waiting on the other side of the parlor while we finalized the design and got the stencil on, so he didn’t see or hear anything.

Once everything is settled, Lily helps me get on the table, strategically wrapping a blanket around my legs and any other exposed skin she could, so I didn’t get too cold. 

It was a bit awkward, being in just a thong and socks from the waist down, but the blanket helped me keep just a bit more of my dignity. Plus, the pair made me feel more than comfortable the times I was considered “exposed”.

As Dutch finishes up getting his tray set up, Lily hands me a stuffed fox, and I blink in surprise.

“For holding,” she says gently. “Helps when the pain gets a bit much.”

“Thank you,” I beam at her as she moves to sit at the station behind Dutch. I mentally kick myself for not having my stuffed skeleton, but considering how quickly we left base, I can’t be too mad at myself.

Dutch snaps on a pair of fresh gloves with a practiced flick. “Alright then, let’s get this show on the road, yeah? This is your first, right?”

“Yes, sir,” I admit, voice coming out softer than I intended.

“‘Sir,’ she keeps sayin’,” Dutch chuckles. “Proper polite, aren’t you?”

A small, breathy laugh escapes me. “Had to be where I’m from.”

He hums as he leans over me, machine poised. “Well, you can relax now, love. Yer makin’ me feel like my dad.”

We both share a small chuckle before he asks, “Alright, I’m all set to go. You ready?”

I take a deep breath, squeeze the fox a little tighter, and nod. “Ready.”

The tattoo machine whirs to life with a sharp buzz that fills the parlor. The first prick of the needle bites at my skin, and I tense on instinct. It surprises me how little pain I’m actually feeling, though. It’s more of a scratchy feeling than a stabby feeling like I was expecting.

“How’s that, love?” Dutch prompts.

“Not too bad,” I reply back with a small shrug.

“That’s good,” he tells me. “Might sting a bit more when we get up here towards the bone, but it seems like you’ve got nerves of steel.” 

I let out a shaky laugh through the sting as he continues. “I try.”

“Yeah, you and every tough guy who sits in that chair,” he teases, then adds with a grin, “You’re already doin’ better than he did his first time.”

“Didn’t tap out,” Ghost mutters from his chair on the other side of the divider. 

Dutch snorts. “Didn’t finish either, mate.”

Lily giggles softly behind him. “Alright, you two,” she chides playfully.

“Couldn’t handle the shading,” Dutch whispers to me, making me softly laugh. “Sure, you’ll do better though.”

Dutch easily settles into a rhythm, hand steady as he works. The pain ends up becoming background noise, almost meditative with the hum of the tattoo gun.

We all talk as he works, conversation flowing easily over the hum of the machine. Dutch tells me how he and Lily met, “She came in for a little wrist flower, left with half her arm done, and my number in her phone.”

I share small things in return. How long I’ve been in the UK, a quick, vague reasoning as to why, and things that I’m still not used to yet. 

Dutch teases me a few times about my accent, and I tease right back, happy to have the banter to help distract me.

Ghost sits quietly on the other side of the divider, occasionally joining in on the conversation. His scent lingers softly in the air, helping to keep me a bit more grounded as Dutch works over my hip bone.

As time passes, the sting of the needle fades into something distant and dull. My breathing evens out, and the soft buzz of the machine starts to lull me. The aching in my hip turns into a slow, rhythmic throb that’s almost soothing.

“Doing alright, love?” Lily murmurs at one point, leaning forward slightly.

“Mm,” I hum sleepily, eyes starting to flutter closed. “Just… tired.”

“Good sign,” Dutch says without looking up. “Means you’re relaxed. Tough little bird, ya got, Ghosty.”

I feel Lily drape another blanket over my shoulders, tucking it gently beneath my skin. Her comforting floral scent with Ghost’s homey scent has me completely surrendering my body over to the warmth surrounding me.

The last thing I register before sleep drags me under is Lily’s sweet voice saying, “You’re doing so well, love. It’s okay to rest. We’ve got you.”

A gentle nudge at my shoulder pulls me from sleep, the steady buzz of the machine long gone. I blink groggily, disoriented for a moment before Ghost’s low voice cuts through the haze.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he murmurs, thumb brushing against my arm. “You’re done. Dutch wants you to take a look before I do.”

I groan softly, gently stretching as I sit up. “Already? Thought I just blinked.”

Ghost huffs a quiet laugh, eyes crinkling behind his mask. “You’ve been out for nearly two hours. Snored once or twice, too.”

I narrow my eyes at him, too tired to do more than mumble. “Did not!”

Dutch’s easy voice chimes in from behind me. “Nah, he’s right. You were out cold once we started shading.”

I laugh sleepily, rubbing my eyes. “Guess that stuffed fox worked a little too well.”

Lily giggles next to Dutch. “You handled it like a pro, love. Go on then, let's have you take a look.”

Dutch helps me to my feet, steadying me as I wobble for a second. He guides me toward a full-length mirror, and my breath snags in my throat.

Staring back at me from my hip is Ghost’s mask. On one side, a cluster of peonies blooms out from the mask; on the other side, marigolds. The shading has the flowers lying perfectly against the mask, making it look almost as if it’s sitting on top of them.

“Oh.” My voice comes out a bit shaky. “It’s… beautiful.”

Dutch’s grin widens, pride written all over him as he stands beside me. “Interested to see what the big guy thinks of it,” he says, amusement coating his tone.

I can’t stop the silly, giddy grin that spreads across my face. “Me too,” I whisper.

“Why don’t you come on over, Ghost?” Dutch prompts, stepping aside with an almost ceremonious flourish.

Ghost moves up behind me, silently scanning my face before his eyes dip to the tattoo. For a beat, he doesn’t say anything, and I’m worried he doesn’t like it. 

When he does speak, the rawness of his tone tells me otherwise. “Love… you sure?”

I turn my head just enough to meet his eyes, a soft laugh tumbling out. “Bit late now to have second thoughts,” I tease, gently.

That earns me a small chuff as his eyes go from mine to the mask’s. “Bloody hell,” he murmurs under his breath. “Didn’t think you’d ever do something like this.”

I smile, warmth spreading through me that has nothing to do with the sting of the tattoo.

“Guess you’ll have to get used to lookin’ at yourself, huh?”

He hums low in his chest, voice thick with affection. “Aye, that I will.”

Ghost leans in and presses a brief kiss to my temple. “Thank you,” he whispers to me.

Dutch clears his throat theatrically. “Right, lovebirds. Gotta wrap her all up, and then we can send you on your way.”

Dutch and Lily are kind enough to wrap up the tattoo nicely and help explain aftercare to me, despite Ghost’s assurance that he’d be on top of it. We say our goodbyes and head back out into the cold December air towards our rented home.

The rest of our time in Manchester flies by in a blur. 

Simon takes me to a stylist he found online, a nice beta woman who had a private suite tucked away in the back of a small studio. It had been years since I’d even stepped into a salon, so I was grateful to have the amount of privacy I had. 

She asked gentle questions about what I wanted, what I normally do with my hair, and which products usually work for me without judgment. When I tell her I’m not looking for anything too dramatic, she doesn’t push, just helps me to get my fried ends taken care of.

By the time my hair is washed and trimmed, I can’t help but feel cared for. My hair feels a lot better than it has in a while, and I can’t help but feel super confident afterwards.

Simon ends up using that to coax me into some light shopping for myself. Thankfully, it wasn’t super busy, and I was able to take some time to find some more simple pieces as well as one dress, much to both of our surprise. 

We also managed to check off the last of the gifts we needed, walking back to our little house with arms full of bags and faces full of smiles. It all feels oddly domestic, and something about that seems to melt away another layer I had put up around my heart. 

The following day, we caught a train to Liverpool. Simon was super patient with me, showing me how the whole process worked and making sure that we caught the right train. It was a bit overwhelming, but he was soft with the way he guided me that it made the whole adventure easier. 

We walked to the nearest beach, and I swear I couldn’t breathe the first time I saw the ocean. The smell was the first thing that hit me hard. The salt and cold wind had something deep and wild in it that just called out to me.

I fell in love instantly, practically dragging Simon to the waves so I could feel them for myself. The beach was absolutely freezing, but it still captivated me. I ended up taking a candle home from a local gift shop just so I could have something to sniff when we got back to base. 

Simon teased me about the whole thing, shaking his head and grinning at me as I picked up a handful of sand or dared to put my feet in the freezing water. He promised to take me back when the weather warms, since apparently, now was the worst possible time to properly enjoy a beach.

On our final day, with the sky finally cleared and the air warmed just enough to pretend it was pleasant weather, we visited the graves again. 

I insisted on a picnic, and Simon surprisingly humors me. We stopped by one of his favorite chippies and ended up sitting together in front of the headstones, sharing food and leaning into each other as we shared our favorite stories about our lost ones.

The energy between us is soft and electric at the same time. I feel a little ridiculous, like a pup with her first crush, practically buzzing with excitement over how much time we’ve spent together. Every moment charged in a way that I’m still getting used to.

Because somewhere in the middle of all that excitement, a little guilt starts to thread itself through my chest. 

I feel like a whole new person because of him. The way he’s looked after me, given me space to breathe without asking for anything in return. I mean, in some ways… I am a new person.

I’ve seen places I’d never thought I’d see, felt things I’d never imagine I’d be allowed to. He makes me feel safe and cared for in a way that still catches me off guard.

And what have I given him back?

I may be looking at it too harshly, but it feels like the answer is nothing. I haven’t had to work for anything. Haven’t had to try. Haven’t had to be anything other than someone he can come back home to.

I know he’d argue with that immediately. Tell me I don’t owe him a damn thing. That I should just focus on myself or some other well-meaning bullshit like that. But the unfairness of it digs at me. I can’t shake the feeling that I haven’t offered him even a fraction of what he’s given me.

Which, if I were being rational, isn’t true at all. The way he’s been smiling the past couple of days, the ease in his shoulders, how fucking soft his eyes have been… all of that should tell me that I’m not just dead weight.

I know that… but the thought just won’t go away.

It’s still there as we clean up the house on our final night, moving around each other in this quiet, domestic rhythm that feels far too good to be something we have to give up in the morning.

Simon’s hands find me every chance they get. Fingers brush my waist when he reaches for a dish, palm settling on my back as he steps past me to help with laundry. Casual touches that send little sparks racing down my spine each time.

That’s when the idea hits me.

It’s so clear, so perfect, that I almost laugh at myself for not thinking of it sooner. There is something that I can offer him that I’ve been holding back from. Something I’ve been scared to give up, something we’ve talked about me not wanting to do because I wasn’t ready.

The weight of his tags around my neck, and the buzz of the healing tattoo on my hip make me realize just how ready I actually am.

Before I can talk myself out of it, Simon comes up behind me. His big hands slide around my hips, carefully guiding me back against him. His head dips into the curve of my neck, and he breathes me in with a low, pleased rumble that vibrates against my back.

“What can I do,” he rumbles, “to convince you to come to be with me?”

A smile tugs at my mouth.

Perfect.

“Actually…” I turn my head just slightly, letting the coyness bleed into my voice. “I’d really like to give you a massage… You know, if you’re up for it.”

I feel the way his head tilts, body now laced with curiosity. His hands tighten slightly on my hips.

“A massage,” he repeats almost cautiously. 

I hum and give him a little nod. “A massage,” I confirm. “If you’d like.”

There’s another moment of stillness between us that makes us giggle.

“I figure,” I continue, “that a big guy like you probably has a bunch of knots that need to get worked out.”

“Oh, I got a knot ye can work out,” he says without missing a beat. 

I laugh, bringing a hand up to settle at the back of his head, keeping him close. “Don’t I know it,” I tease back, moving my head to the side to lightly kiss whatever part of his face I can reach.

“But I’m serious,” I continue. “I’d really like to do this for you, but only if you want. I won’t push you. Don’t know if it’ll be uncomfy or—”

“I’d love it,” he cuts me off, rubbing his face some more into my neck.

I turn in his arms, and the look on his face nearly undoes me. He’s studying me with those soft eyes that have my knees already buckling.

His guard is down in a way that I’ve only ever seen in a way when it’s just the two of us, and for a heartbeat, I wonder if he even knows how vulnerable he looks right now.

I take his hand. “C’mon,” I murmur, giving it a gentle tug.

He follows without hesitation, letting me lead him down the hall to the bedroom. The lamps are already on, casting the room in a warm, low glow that just makes everything feel softer. I motion toward the bed.

“Undress and lie down on your stomach,” I say, moving to my suitcase. I’m aiming for a confident tone, but the way his eyes linger on me already has my face warming.

His brow lifts in a way that tells me he’s both amused and very aware of what I’m doing, but he doesn’t push it. 

“Bossy tonight,” he murmurs as he starts stripping, unhurried and annoyingly graceful about it. 

I turn away toward my bag, partly to grab what I need and partly because I know watching him undress will just completely derail my plan. I tuck the items I need under my shirt, hiding them from view.

“I’m going to change so I’m not getting lotion all over my clothes,” I say, slowly creeping toward the bathroom. “Just lie there and relax, okay?”

I hear the bed shift under his weight, and I can only imagine the eye roll he’s giving me. “‘Just relax,’,” he mimics. “Not sure you know how serial-killer-y that sounds… Undress. Get on the bed. Just relax.”

I let out a breathy laugh as I shut the bathroom door behind me. I change quickly, then throw a towel around myself before stepping back out. My heart’s hammering, knowing he’s going to be looking at me even if he pretends he’s not.

Sure enough, I catch the shift of his eyes as he peeks out from the sheets. They’re curious and hungry as they watch me quickly scramble behind him on the bed.

I climb onto the bed, making sure to carefully place myself on top of his hips before I pull off the towel and set it to the side.

“Doin’ alright down there?” I ask with a bit of a teasing tone.

“More than,” he rasps, lightly adjusting himself below me.

Satisfied, I grab the bottle of lotion I had with me and pour a line of lotion across his shoulders. He jerks at the cold feeling, a startled grunt leaving him.

“Sorry,” I murmur, and then let my hands glide over the lotion.

The reaction is immediate. His breath stutters, and a low, half-sigh, half-growl escapes him. My thumbs press gently but firmly into the first bit of knotted muscle I find, trying to gauge how much pressure he likes.

He ends up completely melting.

His arms fall loose beside his head, fingers uncurling, body going slack under me like he’s surrendering every ounce of tension he’s been holding onto for years.

A pleased chuff slips out of me instinctively, and his responding rumble vibrates up my body through his legs.

“Jesus…” he breathes, already sounding undone. “Didn’t know ye had hands like that.”

I grin, leaning forward to knead deeper into the muscle along his shoulder blade. “Maybe you should let me take care of you like this more often.”

He gives another low, velvety grumble, sinking even further into the mattress. “Don’t tempt me, love.”

With a hum, I begin working my way slowly down his back. Every few inches, I find a new knot. I work through every stubborn remnant of years of strain, missions, injuries he never talks about.

Every time I press just right, he grunts or his muscles twitch beneath my hands, and I stay there until the tension melts and he exhales again.

He gives me more and more of himself with each pass of my hands, and I feel the honor of that settle deep in my chest.

His back is littered with scars, puckered circles, and faint white lines that lead to his ribs. I want to kiss every one of them, trace them with my mouth, will them and the bad memories that come with them away.

But I can’t just yet, not with what I still have planned for the rest of the evening.

For now, I just let my hands tell him everything I don’t have the words for yet.

I do my best to work over his arms and legs, knowing he’ll probably try to speed up the massage once I have him flip over and he sees what I’m wearing.

That’s when I realize I still have the towel. 

“Alright,” I say, gently placing a flat hand to the center of his back. “I’m going to have you flip over.”

He makes a lazy, contented noise in reply.

“But,” I add, picking up the towel. “I’m putting a towel over your eyes.”

That gets his attention. He lifts his head up, and I quickly put my hand to the back of his neck, trying to keep him from turning to look.

“Wha—?”

“I’ve got a surprise for you, and I don’t want you peeking.”

There’s a long moment where neither of us moves.

Finally, he mutters, “Bloody hell. You are going to kill me.”

I laugh and shake my head. I place the head over the back of his head and help keep it over his eyes as he flips over. 

His hands settle at his sides, noticeably less relaxed, but I’ll fix that soon.

“Good,” I murmur as I adjust the towel so I know he’s not peeking. “Just keep that right there.”

“Not touchin’ it,” he says.

I nod before realizing he can’t see that. “Thank you,” I mutter instead. 

I readjust so I’m sitting just above his hips, intentionally dodging his already-stiff cock. 

“I’m gonna start workin’ again,” I say, a bit breathless, but I don’t know why. 

He gives me a grunt of acknowledgement, and I pour more lotion on top of his chest. He gasps when I start working my fingers in again, twitching lightly before settling down. 

As I work, I notice that the scars on his front side seem a lot more lethal. There are a lot on his chest and a couple near his ribs. I work through every knot the same, making sure it’s gone before I move on.

His breathing deepens, and for a second, I worry he’s fallen asleep.

“Doin’ alright?” I murmur.

He swallows once and gives me a curt nod.

“Keep goin’,” he whispers, voice wrecked.

I shift down, making sure to ignore his near-leaking cock as I resettle on top of his legs so I can work on his stomach. 

His hands twitch, like he wants to grab me, and the realization warms me down to my toes. I let out more of my scent, letting him know just how pleased I am with him. 

“Doin’ so good,” I whisper to him. 

He groans, decorum faltering as he shifts his hips up a little and his cock jerks.

I smirk at his reaction, loving the effect I have on him. I continue working over his muscles, only to watch his cock unabashedly twitch freely now. 

“Mmm,” I hum. “Looks like someone could use a happy ending,” I tease softly. 

My hands move to run over his thighs a few times before I grip the base of his cock. He lets out a low, strangled groan, hips bucking up slightly as his cock throbs in my hand.

“Fuck, love,” he grunts, voice strained with pleasure.

I smirk, giving him a few slow pumps, watching with adoration as he finally starts to leak in my grip.

“Mmm, you like that, baby?” I purr, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the tip.

He can only groan in response, hands that were relaxed just a moment ago, now fisting the sheets. I take that as my cue to continue, trailing my tongue along the underside of his shaft.

“Oh shit,” he curses, head tilting back.

“Doin’ alright?” I check in, savoring his reactions.

“Yes,” he groans, pained but still clearly aroused. “If this is a new form of torture, I’ll take the full punishment.” I laugh, breath ghosting his cock as I continue to lick around it, trying to make it wet enough that I’ll be able to slide down easier. 

Feeling like I’ve got it prepped enough, I lift up, sitting tall on top of him.

“Simon,” I murmur.

“Yes?” he swallows.

“You can take off the towel.”

There’s a beat of silence, like he’s debating whether or not he actually wants to do that.

Then his hand lifts, and he slowly pulls the towel off his face.

He blinks once.

Twice.

The silence in the room is deafening as he stares up at me. His eyes drag over me, staring at my thighs, then up to where the skeleton hands cup my breasts on the bra I’m wearing. His dog tags sit right in the middle, proudly glinting in the low light.

His breath punches out of him. “...Christ.”

It’s barely a word, more like an exhale that’s been dragged over gravel.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. Just stares at me, seemingly not breathing for a few seconds.

Then, slowly, his hands lift an inch off the bed like he’s reaching for me without meaning to. His fingers curl midair before he forces them back down.

“You’re…” He swallows. “...you’re takin’ the piss, love.”

I smile, heat blooming across my chest. “You like it?”

His jaw flexes before he lets out the softest growl I’ve ever heard from him. It’s not loud or aggressive, more instinct than anything.

“Sweetheart,” he says, voice completely wrecked. “I’m tryin’ so fuckin’ hard not to grab you and force you down on my cock.”

I laugh, shifting so I’m able to start working on his cock again. “Good, let me take care of you some more.”

His head falls back into the pillow, a helpless laugh slipping out of him.

“You’re trouble,” he murmurs, eyes devouring me. “Absolute fuckin’ trouble.”

I smirk at him, loving the way his eyes roam over me. “Thought you liked trouble,” I tease. I lick my lips, keeping eye contact before lowering myself down so I’m level with his cock. 

My tongue trails along his shaft again, licking around his head before taking him in my mouth.

He groans, hands fisting the sheets impossibly tighter as he watches me. “Fuck, love… gonna be the death of me.”

I can only hum in response, sending vibrations against his cock that make him gasp. I turn my focus to his cock, working on taking him inch by inch, feeling him hit the back of my throat. I pause for a moment, breathing through my nose before pushing forward, taking him deeper.

“Shit,” he curses, head tilting back again as I start to bob my head up and down his length.

Watching him crumble under me like this might be my new addiction. I come up, taking a deep breath and readjusting myself slightly before I take him as far as I can bear. My nose just barely touches the curls on his pelvis before I’m gagging and having to come up for air.

I swirl my tongue around his dick, teasing the slit some before I force myself to dive back down, fully taking him down to the hilt.

That completely breaks his resolve. His hand comes to the back of my head. I look at him through teary eyes as he holds me there for a few seconds before releasing me, allowing me to come up for air.

A string of saliva connecting my bottom lip to the tip of his cock hangs between us. I take a moment to catch my breath before diving back down, taking him deep in my throat.

The corners of my lips feel a bit too stretched out, but I’m too determined to worry about that right now. 

Simon groans, fingers tangling in my hair as I start to bob my head faster, sucking him with enthusiasm. 

“Fuck, love,” he grunts, hips starting to lightly thrust up to meet my movements.

I can feel him getting closer, cock twitching against my tongue. I double my efforts, wanting to taste his come, feel it run down my throat.

Suddenly, he tugs on my hair, pulling me off his cock. I sit up, panting and licking my lips.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, concerned. “You okay?”

He looks as destroyed as his voice sounds. “I don’t want to come in your mouth.”

My brows furrow as he heaves another breath, trying to steady himself.

“Wanna feel that tight cunt around me again.”

My face heats at his words, a fresh wave of slick coating my folds. “Oh,” I breathe out with a shy laugh. “Then I guess we should move to your real surprise.”

Now it’s his turn to look at me, confused. 

I move off the bed, offering him a hand to stand up. He’s still bewildered as he stands next to me. 

“Are you okay?” he asks me. 

I smile up at him and nod, tilting up to kiss him briefly. 

“Yeah,” I say after pulling away. “More than okay. I… I just think it’s time.”

Realization flashes through his eyes as I pull away. I crawl easily on the bed, positioning myself on my hands and knees. I take a deep breath before lowering my chest down to the mattress, leaving my ass up in the air, fully presenting myself to him.

I hear his sharp intake of breath behind me, and I whip my head to the side, looking at him over my shoulder. “Is… is this okay?” I ask softly, my nervousness bursting through my tone.

He swallows hard, eyes dark with desire as he takes in the sight of me. “Fuck, love…” he says, voice low and rough.

I feel the bed dip slightly behind me. His hands come to rest on the globes of my ass, making me jump slightly. 

“I… I’m not ready to mark you,” he admits, voice heavy. I can’t help the small pang of disappointment, but I know deep down that the reasoning has nothing to do with me. “But… I’m fuckin’ honored that you’re presenting for me.”

I blush at his words, pride and contentment washing over me as slick continues to pool in my core. He must smell it, because he growls, tightening his grip on me. 

I arch into his touch, feeling utterly breathless. “It’s okay, baby,” I tell him, moving my head back. “Just take what you want.”

I feel his hands move over the skeleton ones covering my ass, tracing the design before moving to remove the panties.

“Fuck, you’re such a good, sweet omega, offerin’ yourself up to me like this,” he praises, voice dripping with approval that has my omega practically exploding.

I’m bare before him now, glistening folds on full display, and my body under his complete control. It’s exposing, yet powerful at the same time. Every reaction of his physically tells me how well I’m doing, encouraging me to stay here rather than cower away.

It’s been years since I’ve been here, having done so for the worst person in my life by mistake. But now… It’s different. Hell, it even feels different. Simon’s hands have my skin lighting up, making me burn up almost like I’m in heat.

His fingers tease along my slit, slipping through my slick. “Fuck, you’re always so wet for me,” he groans, fingers circling my entrance. “All this for me?”

My hips push back against his hand. “Yes, alpha,” I blurt out. “All for you.”

He smirks, fingers dipping inside my entrance. I let out a low moan, walls clenching around him as he slowly begins pumping. Once he finds that special spot inside of me, I melt into the bed.

“Mmm, there she is,” he purrs, clearly proud of himself. “Feel good, love?”

I can only moan in response, too lost in the pleasure he’s giving me. My hips rock back against his hand, silently begging for more. He’s got me so embarrassingly close already, my body wound tight and ready to snap at any moment.

Suddenly, he pulls his fingers out, leaving me empty and wanting. I whine at the loss, turning my head to look back at him again.

“I know, baby,” he says, voice strained. I see him gripping his cock tightly, before his other hand grips my hip tightly. “I need it too.”

With that, he lines himself up with my entrance, the head of his cock nudging against my folds. I take a deep breath, trying to relax and prepare myself for his size.

I’m surprised when he easily slides in. My back arches more as his grip tightens. 

“Fuck,” we both say through clenched teeth.

He settles himself fully inside of me, fingers digging strategically into my hips as I’m forced to feel every thick inch of him.

“Shit, love, you feel so fuckin’ good,” he grunts, giving a few shallow thrusts. “Love seein’ you like this, presentin’ for me. Lookin’ so fuckin’ sexy in my tags, knowin’ my masks on yer hip.”

I blush harder, readjusting slightly so I can feel the cool metal in my hand. It makes me feel owned, a meager possession… but in the best way possible. 

“Mmm, I like wearin’ them,” I admit, clenching down around his cock. “Makes me feel like yours.”

“Fuck. You are mine,” he growls, thrusting harder into me. “All mine.”

I moan loudly, pushing back my hips to meet his thrusts. “Fuck. I love that.”

He leans down, pressing kisses along my spine as he starts to move faster. The bed creaks beneath us, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.

I can feel myself starting to lose focus, my mind going hazy as he pounds into me. Each thrust sends sparks of pleasure shooting through my body, making it hard to think straight.

“F-fuck,” I slur, melting more into the bed. “S-so big… so good…”

A hand tangles into the roots of my hair, easily moving my head around. He tugs back slightly, forcing me to arch my back more as he continues his relentless pace. My omega howls in pleasure, screaming and squirming in my head. 

“Such a good omega,” he grumbles, slowly moving my head around, as if testing his control of me. 

It’s insane how quickly the tables have turned. Just mere moments ago I had full control of his body, now here I am, boneless and completely under his control. 

I moan out, my pussy starting to flutter and clench around him. I’m getting close, my body tensing as I feel my orgasm approaching. 

“Gonna come on my cock, love?” he asks, voice strained.

I nod against his grip, unable to form actual words. My mind is completely lost to the feeling of him pounding into me.

“Then do it,” he demands, giving me a particularly hard thrust. “Come for your alpha.”

My body tenses, back arching as my orgasm crashes over me. I mewl out in pleasure, pussy clamping down around his cock like a vice as I come.

“Fuck! Simon… Alpha!” I all but scream, seeing stars behind my eyelids. My body shakes and trembles below him from the force of my release.

He groans, his grip most likely bruising my hips as he buries himself to the hilt inside of me. “Shit, fuck. Take it all, love!”

His knot swells, stretching me further as he starts to come. I collapse onto the bed, completely spent and satisfied as he works through his own orgasm.

“God… Boo…” he pants against my neck. “You’re incredible. I fuckin’ love you so much.”

All I can do is hum because my brain is nothing but warm fog and aftershocks. Words are far too complicated right now. I tighten around his knot instead.

Simon groans before it turns into a breathless laugh. “Love me too, I take it?”

I nod, limbs feeling heavy and useless, a sleepy little smile sitting on my lips.

He shifts his weight carefully, mindful of the knot that locks up together. His muscles flex under me as he gathers me up, one arm under my arms, the other helping to support my hips. 

He maneuvers us with ease, rolling just enough so we can collapse sideways without pulling too hard in any direction. The warmth of the sheets and the lingering scent of us make me that much sleepier. 

“You doin’ okay, love?” he murmurs, kissing the side of my head. “Didn’t fuck you too stupid, did I?”

I let out a lazy laugh. “Mmm… yeah. More than okay.” My eyes flutter shut. “Feelin’ really good, Simon.”

His chest rumbles with a pleased hum. “Good. You were fuckin’ amazing, love. Really.” His hand rubs slow circles up and down my arm. “Thank you for that…. I know it took a lot.”

Heat crawls up my cheeks, the praise settling in my chest. “Glad you liked it,” I whisper, voice heavy with exhaustion. “Wanted to do something special for you.”

My fingers reach up to seek out his, needing the contact. “Feel like you’ve been doin’ everything for me.”

He lets out a soft, almost disbelieving exhale. His arm tightens around me just a little, a protective, instinctive little squeeze that makes my chest flutter.

“Speaking of,” I mumble, trying to blink away the sleep pulling at me, “don’t let me fall asleep. Still gotta finish getting everything together.”

I feel him shake his head before he even speaks. Then his lips brush the back of my head.

“Boo,” he murmurs, “you don’t owe me a damn thing.”

I huff a tiny laugh, knew he’d say that, I think, but he cuts me off before I can actually voice it.

“Listen,” he continues, tone soft but firm. “Everything I do for you? There’s no expectation of you paying me back.”

He starts rubbing circles on my waist now. “I do it ‘cause I want to. ‘Cause takin’ care of you feels right. Calms somethin’ in me. Tames my alpha, yeah?”

My throat goes tight, eyes stinging for a moment. His scent is thicker now, wrapping around my like a blanket. A small purr slips out of my chest before I can stop it.

“That…” he breathes, the sound almost a groan. “That sound right there…”

He rubs his head against mine. “Drives me fuckin’ mad. Lets me know it’s all worth it.”

I bury my face in my hands, trying to stop my face from exploding from how hot it is. “Simon…”

He hums, tugging me just slightly closer in a way that makes me gasp.

“No, really,” he says quietly. “You don’t even know what you do to me.”

“I just…” I swallow, my voice feeling small. “Wanted you to feel as loved as you make me feel.”

He goes still for a moment, allowing me to keep going.

“I… I haven’t felt like this with any other alpha,” I admit softly, words tumbling out before I can lose the nerve. “I know you’re mine. And I love that. I… I don’t wanna lose you.”

Simon’s breath catches, hand stilling for a moment like my words have physically hit him.

Then he exhales… slow and controlled.

“Hey,” he murmurs, voice rough in a way that has nothing to do with arousal now.  “You’re not losin’ me. Not now, not ever.”

I can’t help but fidget, not really sure what to do with myself.

“You hear me? You’re stuck with me.”

A choked little sound catches in my throat, and he takes that as a chance to continue. 

“You’re mine, yeah… but I’m yours just as much. More, probably.”

He kisses the back of my head again, lingering like he can’t quite pull away.

“You couldn’t lose me if you tried,” he adds softly. “You’ve got me tied in knots,” he huffs with a faint laugh. “Literally and figuratively.”

That earns a sleepy laugh out of me, my body still trembling faintly with aftershocks. His hands go back to rubbing my hip. It’s calm and steady, the type of touch built to soothe an overstimulated omega.

I hum, making his knot pulse. My pussy clenches in response, making us both groan.

“Sorry. Easy, easy. I’ve got you. It’s almost down.”

I let out a shaky breath, and he shifts just a little to help me settle more comfortably. “Did so good,” he murmurs against my hair. “More than good. Gave yourself to me completely. That’s not small, love.”

My eyes flutter as I fight off the tears that appear. 

“And for what it’s worth… I’ve never felt loved like this either. Not once. By anyone. Not even my own mum. You give me more than you realize.”

A soft quiet settles between us, his hand moving to lovingly rub the middle of my chest as his knot continues to soften. 

“You wanna rest a bit?” he asks. “We can finish packin’ after. Won’t let you oversleep.”

I nod, eyes already closed, body sinking deeper into his warmth. 

“Yeah,” I breathe. “Jus’... stay with me.”

He smiles against me.

“‘Course.”

It’s warm.

Too warm.

And bright.

Too bright.

Light burns behind my eyes, making me groan as I try to wake up. My muscles jerk, feeling sore, and my breathing feels off.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

Danger.

The word isn’t a thought so much as a pulse under my skin.

Danger… Must protect. Must survive.

White walls snap into focus. Too clean, too empty.

Trap. Doctor.

Panic rips down my spine.

Needles. Pain… Not safe. Not safe.

Something shifts beside me.

I move. No thinking, just action. I register it’s a person as I slam them down, pressing my teeth to their throat.

A growl tears out of my chest, a warning and a promise at the same time. 

Don’t move or I’ll hurt you.

This person doesn’t struggle.

They’re still.

Wrong. That’s wrong too.

My whole body trembles as awareness slowly creeps back in. My senses slowly come back to me, all screaming at the same time.

“It’s alright,” a voice says.

Familiar.

“Easy, love.”

…safe?

I growl again, unsure.

Then it hits me.

The scent.

His scent.

Alpha.

My mouth and nose flood with his scent.

Alpha, Alpha, Alpha.

My jaw slackens, breath hitching as I greedily take in more of the scent, making my growls die off.

I pull back slightly, blinking hard as the world shifts into focus.

No trap, no doctor. Alpha here.

He’s calm… still… watching me. The tension bleeds out of my body, leaving me shaking and confused and suddenly very aware of myself.

“That’s it,” Alpha murmurs. “Good. I’ve got you.”

I sit up fully, looking around as I brace myself on his chest.

Where is this? Where are we?

It seems to be some kind of room, but it’s far too white, and there are no windows, just two doors and a bed.

Wrong.

Not the forest. Not our den.

Wrong.

A small whimper leaves me, and I furrow my brows, looking down at Alpha.

How did we get here? How long have we been here?

His scent pours from him, helping to keep me from freaking out more.

Heat coils low in my belly as a cramp has me wincing, shifting slightly above him.

Nest.

The urge is sharp, making me huff in frustration.

Alpha notices.

“You’re alright,” he says quietly. “You’re safe.”

I shake my head. My mouth feels like it’s full of lead. I open it, trying to speak, but it comes out as more of a growl than a coherent word. I huff again, making Alpha rub my arm.

His touch has my core lighting up, needing so much more. But not yet. Not here. 

“N-N…” I growl, testing the sound. I lick my lips, sucking in a breath and focusing hard enough to get out what I need.

“Nest.”

Recognition flashes in his eyes.

“You need to nest?”

I nod frantically, happy that he understood me. 

“Okay,” Alpha says softly. “We can do that. Gotta stand up though.”

I scoot off of him, kneeling on the floor as I watch him stand.

“Can I help you up?” he asks, reaching a hand out to me. 

I hesitate, but another cramp makes the decision for me. I reach for his hand, a broken sound leaving me. My legs don’t work right. They’re too weak, too loose. I wobble the second I try to really stand.

Alpha catches me.

He’s so strong. So solid. I lean into him, forehead brushing his arm as I try to remember how to stand.

I start purring as I admire him.

So strong, so handsome.

His head snaps down, eyes wide, fixed on me.

I nuzzle into his arm, and he chuffs down at me.

We start moving, my legs start working.

We move to a pile of bags.

My eyes lock onto them.

Blankets… pillows…

My things!

I look up at Alpha, breathing picking up again.

“Girls brought your stuff,” he says, voice warm and a tiny bit amused.

The buzzing in my head spikes.

Nest.

Nest, nest, nest, nest, nest.

I shove away from Alpha, steady now. Don’t need help anymore.

My things… Soft… familiar…

My head whips back over to the bed.

Don’t like. Too high, too open.

No. 

Fix nest.

I snarl, stomping over and yanking at the sheets. I tear them off, throwing them aside. The mattress gets dragged to the floor.

Alpha moves to help.

I spin on him with a sharp growl.

He freezes instantly, hands lifting, backing away.

Good.

I nod once and turn back.

Mattress goes on the floor.

Push frame away.

New sheets on. Smell like us. 

Blankets, pillows. 

Stack, pile, shape.

Better.

The lights buzz overhead. 

Too bright.

I bare my teeth, growling up at them.

Movement behind me. Lights dim.

Good.

I look down at my nest.

Feels good.

But wrong.

Needs scent. Needs Alpha.

I climb into my nest, rubbing my scent on things. Then I lift my head and look for Alpha.

He’s watching from across the room, remote in his hand.

His dark eyes are on me, and mine trail over him.

My core tightens as I lock eyes with what I need the most.

A small, needy whine slips out of me.

Alpha understands. He steps closer.

I turn, get on my hands and knees, then arch my back.

Present. Present for Alpha.

“Fuck,” Alpha growls.

His hands lock onto my hips, holding me in place. The touch feels like lightning, too good and too much all at the same time. My body answers before my mind can, making me whine out to him. 

He doesn’t hesitate, rubbing his cock up and down my entrance. I buck back into him, desperate for more, needing him inside of me, now.

He pulls back so he can line himself up, but I whimper at the loss of contact.

“Shh, love. I’ve got you,” Simon says, his voice a low, soothing rumble against my back.

He pushes inside me, and my vision goes white.

A volley of pleasure explodes in my chest, and we both gasp.

His arms wrap fully around my waist, pressing me back against his chest as he gives me a moment to adjust. That lovely stretch makes me feel whole and ruined all at once.

His face presses into the crook of my neck, and the puff of his breath against my skin has me shuddering.

His lips are right next to my new mark that I can feel with every swallow.

His mark.

The brand on my throat that proves I’m his.

A fresh wave of slick gushes from me, and my inner walls clamp down around him, earning a sharp, broken-off groan from him.

His hips start to move, slowly at first.

It’s like he’s testing what feels good. After a particularly beautiful thrust, he starts moving faster. Harder.

The sound of our bodies meeting fills the room in chorus with our shared grunts. My hands fly out, gripping the nest below us as he drives into me, hitting the spot that makes my toes curl.

So good, so good.

I’m breathing faster now, basically panting. I’m sure I’m drooling, but I don’t care.

Alpha’s here.

I’m full.

I’m safe.

Tears spill without warning as heat explodes through me. My body clenches around him as white-hot pleasure tears through me.

I start to shake, and my legs begin to tremble.

Throwing myself back onto him, I do my best to ride it out, my walls fluttering helplessly as my mind empties.

He doesn’t stop pounding into me. If anything, he’s moving faster now, chasing after something only he can feel. His hips start to stutter, his pace turning feral.

Something that isn’t mind builds up in my chest, and I find myself chasing after it.

His thrusts become uncoordinated as I do my best to meet each one. 

He’s saying something to me, but I can’t make it out, the blood pounding in my ears muffling everything.

I nod, not really knowing what I’m agreeing to, but not caring either.

There’s pressure, and that’s when my mind catches up.

Knot. 

Alpha’s knot.

It catches and swells at my entrance, locking us together, and making me cry out as it stretches me just a bit more. I can feel it throbbing inside of me, and that’s all it takes to send me over the edge again.

His teeth find my shoulder, biting down hard enough to bruise, but not break skin. The possessive act sends another shockwave through me. His knot pulses and throbs as he floods my insides. I clamp around him, trying my best to stay up, but having to shift a little to stay comfortable.

He growls above me. “Stay still,” he rumbles, but there’s no heat behind it.

I take a deep, stuttery breath, and my head starts to clear.

I can think again.  But just barely.

“Fuck,” I mutter hoarsely.

His chest rumbles in a weak purr, something I’ve never felt him do before.

“Language,” he murmurs playfully.

“Oh, shut up,” I huff back with a laugh.

But then the aftershocks start. My body clenches and pulses around him. My legs shake with each tremor. 

He gasps, pressing himself impossibly closer, one arm wrapping tightly around my waist, trying to keep me from moving around too much. 

I slump forward into the nest, the effort to hold myself up suddenly too much.

He follows me down, taking a moment to maneuver us gently so we’re both on our sides. 

“There we go,” he breathes against my neck. “Feelin’ a bit more like yourself, love?”

I manage a weak nod. 

“Sore,” I grumble out as I keep breathing through the trembling. When my body relaxes, I finally get the chance to ask what I really want. 

“What. The. Fuck.”

Simon huffs a small laugh, jostling us slightly and making me hiss.

“Sorry,” he murmurs. 

“‘S okay,” I say automatically. My brain finally starts putting things together. 

We’re on the floor, in a nest I’ve made, in some room I’ve never been in before. 

Even with the lights dimmed, it seems far too clinical in here for me.

The walls are too white. The lack of windows is really starting to freak me out.

My chest tightens.

“Where are we?” I ask, hating how much emotion slips into my voice.

“Price’s office,” Simon offers. “More specifically, the hidden safe room that’s inside his office.”

I frown, trying to line that up in my head. “Why does he have a hidden safe room in his office?”

“Mostly for rut emergencies,” he answers. “Mainly, my rut emergencies. But… seems like it can be useful for unexpected heats as well.”

My brows knit together as I try to put everything together. There seems to be a huge gap in my memory, and that makes my stomach twist.

“I… I don’t remember how we got here,” I admit. “I just remember being in the forest and then…”

He’s quiet for a moment, like he’s waiting to see what I do remember. When I don’t respond right away, he starts to rumble again. The rumble mixes with his scent, soothing my nerves almost instantly.

“Everything happened fast,” he finally explains. “You passed out after I marked you. Not long after, Price and the guys found us.”

A flush of shame burns my cheeks.

“When you woke up, you started to go into heat and panicked. You went feral, completely gone. Came at me first.”

Flashes of foggy memories play in my mind, along with the feeling of wanting to tear out someone’s throat.

Simon nuzzles against the back of my neck. “The others ended up stepping in, and you went after them, too.”

“Oh my God,” I whisper.

“‘S alright, love,” he says. “They understand. I managed to get you to settle enough to get you here. You were… not happy. I had to hold you until you calmed down enough to be moved without hurting yourself or anyone else.”

My chest feels too tight to breathe.

“I… I attacked you?” My voice cracks. “All of you?”

Simon shifts behind me. “Boo—”

“Did I hurt anyone?” I blurt out, panic kicking into overdrive. “I don’t remember anything. It’s just blank. Did I say something? Was I awful? Oh my god…”

My words start tumbling over each other.

“Fuck. I’m in heat. I’m in heat. I hate heats. I’m not safe when I’m in heat… I lose control and …”

He tries to speak, but I don’t let him.

“Oh my god. I’m in heat,” I repeat. “Holy fuck. Wait…”

My heart drops. 

“What if I get pregnant?”

Simon goes completely still.

“Oh my god, Simon,” I choke. “What if I end up pregnant? What am I supposed to do? I can’t get pregnant. I just can't. It wouldn't be safe.”

My hand comes up, trembling, to brush over the fresh mark on my neck, finding that I’m being met by a bandage instead.

“Fuck,” my chest starts to painfully tighten. “I can’t, Ican’tIcan’t—”

“Omega! Stop.” 

The command cuts through me like a blade.

My body freezes before my mind can catch up.

I blink, suddenly aware of how hard I’m crying. Guilt that’s not mine creeps into my chest.

Simon lets out a defeated sigh before he releases his control on me.

“You…” I whisper shakily. “You just commanded me…”

“I did,” he admits quietly, and it sounds like the admission itself has completely ruined him.

“I’m sorry,” he adds, and I find that I can feel just how sorry he actually is. “But I’m not going to sit here and listen to my mate tear herself apart and just do nothing.”

My breath catches.

Mates.

“We’re…” my voice wobbles. “We’re mates.”

He nods against my back. “Yes,” he says easily. “We’re mates.”

I swallow as the news settles in. 

“And I’m so sorry for putting you in this situation. I… I should have told you sooner…”

My mind starts to reel again.

Simon is a prime alpha.

My pack lied to me, kept this from me the whole time. I’d normally be mad, probably go for blood.

But surprisingly… the anger isn’t there. I just feel… tired.

I let out a long, heavy sigh. “It’s okay,” I find myself saying.

He lets out a noise that tells me he’s not quite sure about that answer.

“Wait…” I shake my head slightly. “How are you not in rut right now?”

“I’m on suppressants,” he explains. “Nurse gave ‘em to me before we got locked in here. They’re fast-acting, and it’s just enough to keep me level-headed while we get you settled.”

A hum leaves me as I take in the news.

“Price called her in, and she snuck out to meet us here.”

Flashes of someone touching me start to play in my mind as he speaks.

“She looked us over, cleaned up our marks, and gave us a small dose of the suppressants to help calm us down a bit,” he continues. 

Another flash, this one of Simon holding me against his chest while something gets pricked in my arm.

“With how feral you’ve been, I have no doubts it’ll probably wear off soon.”

I shift slightly, feeling his knot still buried deep inside of me.

“What about the…” 

Pup. 

I want to say pup, but I can’t bring myself to.

Simon seems to know where my mind’s going.

“It’s highly unlikely you’ll get pregnant,” he says, pressing a soft kiss into my hair. “We asked the nurse the same thing, and she says the birth control they have you on should keep you protected.”

A pang of guilt that’s not mine shoots through my chest. “But… to be sure, we had her give you another dose, just in case. I’m sorry if that’s not what you want, but—”

“No,” I cut him off. “No. That’s fine. That’s…” I let out a long breath. “It’s okay. I’d prefer that, really. Not… not that I don’t ever want pups with you, but just, right now with everything going on—”

Simon’s breath of relief cuts me off. “Okay. Glad I made at least one good choice,” he murmurs.

There’s another moment of silence where we both just settle into the nest, not wanting to talk any further about it.

“So, um,” I pipe up. “Are we both just ticking time bombs right now?” I let out a half-hearted laugh. 

“Pretty much,” he huffs. “We should be in here for a few days. Nurse thinks we’ll probably both be feral for a day or two, but because we’re mates, we shouldn’t have to worry about hurting one another.”

I hum, taking a second to let that sink in. That’s when I realize something else doesn’t add up.

“Wait. You were feral on the training field, weren’t you? What happened? Soap and I came around the corner and then you…”

Simon goes stiff behind me.

“I, uh… I think the exhaustion just caught up to me,” he admits. “Haven’t been sleepin’ well without you.”

I shoot a small growl his way. “I could say the same thing.”

“I know, I know,” he’s quick to respond. “I just… When I saw you over the body on New Year's, I realized just how much I was putting you through… how much you’re going to have to get through.”

“Wha—?”

“I don’t want to get into it too much right now,” he cuts me off. “When we get out of here, I’ll tell you everything. But for now… I just want to focus on helping you through this.”

I process this in silence, trying to let it all sink in. 

The room is quiet except for our breathing and the faint hum of whatever ventilation is in this room. A quiet stir of emotion flutters in my chest.

“This is weird,” I comment.

“Hm?”

“This is… this is you I’m feeling… right?”

I feel him nod. “Think so, love. Cause I can certainly feel you, now that you’re more yourself.”

“Is this… a prime thing?”

He shrugs. “Not sure. Haven’t spoken to many others. Certainly didn’t ask about this.”

I swallow. 

I guess that’s fair. Before he commanded the others, I thought primes were a myth, something alphas called themselves to bolster themselves. It was clear that wasn’t the case when I watched the others freeze the way they had. 

“Oh,” is all I can think of to say.

“Like I said,” Simon says evenly. “We’ll talk more after this. Get everything all figured out.”

I nod, and we let the room go quiet again.

His knot eventually deflates enough to slide out, and after some maneuvering, I’m lying against his chest, in his arms. 

Safe.

His scent is everywhere, keeping me calm in a way I’ve never felt before.

“I’m sorry,” I end up murmuring into his chest.

He moves to look down at me. “For what?”

“For freaking out. Attacking you…”

“Love...” His voice is firmer now. “Stop that.”

I blink.

“You were scared. Out of it.” He shifts so he can tuck my chin up just a little with his knuckle, forcing me to look at him instead of further crumbling into myself. “Don’t be ashamed for surviving.”

His hand falls back to my waist.

“That’s all that matters to me.”

I swallow and blink back some tears.

“Did… Did I really go after Price?” I ask quietly.

There’s the faintest hint of amusement in his breath as I feel a small burst of his pride. “Tried to.”

“Tried?”

“He dodged,” Simon says. “Let you barrel straight into Johnny instead.”

I huff out a shaky laugh.

“God,” I mutter. “I’m mortified.”

“Don’t be. It’s the sergeants who should be embarrassed,” he replies. “Took them forever to get control of you.”

I groan, smacking my forehead lightly against his chest.

He laughs. “Knowing Price, he’ll have them running laps for it.”

I shake my head back and forth against his chest before pulling back slightly. “And you?” I ask. “Did I hurt you at all?”

His eyes meet mine, and there’s a rare softness to them that makes my stomach flip. 

“Nothing that won’t heal,” he says with a small smirk. “But I will say, you’ve got a mean right hook when you’re feral. Caught me square in the jaw.”

Guilt floods through me.

“Simon…”

“Hey,” he says, voice dropping to a low rumble. “I said, don’t be sorry.”

He’s still smirking. Why is he smirking? I was a menace.

“I’d be more worried if you didn’t fight back,” he continues, tracing small circles on my back.

I lean my forehead against his shoulder. “I still feel awful about it.”

“I know,” he says softly. “But you don’t have to. Not with me.”

He leans down, brushing a kiss on the column of my neck. The touch sends a wave of warmth through me, and I feel myself purr.

He does it again, this time lingering just a little bit longer.

The heat ripples through me again, followed by another cramp that’s sharper than the last.

I wince, shifting to try and find some relief.

Simon’s hands are on me instantly. One rubs my lower back, the other pushes some stray hairs from my forehead. I lean into the touch, savoring how cool his hands feel against my feverish skin.

“Easy, ‘mega,” he says gently. “I’ve got you.”

He shifts, moving until I'm on my back with him over me. He braces himself on his forearms, careful to keep most of his weight off of me.

My hands move on their own, running up his arms and over his shoulders. I pull him down for a kiss, desperate for the connection.

It’s slow at first. Gentle. It only starts to get more desperate as the heat grows. Slick starts to gather between my thighs, and my mind starts to haze over again.

A whine escapes me, and he deepens the kiss. 

“Fuck,” I gasp as I pull away from the kiss. “My heat—”

He tilts his head into my neck, breathing me in.

“I know,” he rumbles. “It’s okay. I can feel it.”

My face burns as his voice stays calm and controlled, but his scent starts to change.

“Don’t fight it. I’ve got you.”

My thoughts start to blur at the edges, like someone is slowly turning down the lights in my head.

My body moves before I really decide to, curling closer and trying to press into him.

His hand slides up and down my back in slow, steady strokes.

“It’s alright,” he whispers. “You’re safe. Just breathe.”

I try, but the warmth keeps spreading. Everything starts to get too sensitive.

Simon shifts, slotting his leg between my thighs. I whimper a little in relief at the pressure against my core.

My heartbeat starts to pick up as my head gets lighter and fuzzier.

Simon’s scent gets richer, stronger, filling my lungs until it’s all I can focus on.

Mine.

My Alpha.

I nuzzle on his chest and startle myself out of it a little.

“Simon…” I mumble.

“Yes, ‘mega?”

“I’m scared,” I whisper.

He kisses my forehead. 

“You’re okay.” He adjusts himself, pressing his hips into mine. The friction is almost enough to make me scream. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

I can’t fight the tide of heat any longer.

My control snaps, head buzzing with just more and Alpha.

I arch my back, pressing myself into him as a desperate whine escapes my lips.

He doesn’t make me wait.

He enters me in one smooth motion, and my mind goes blessedly blank.

There’s no thinking. No worrying, no fear.

There’s just him.

Alpha.

Safe.

Mine.

I wrap my legs around him, pulling him impossibly closer. I’m not thinking about anything but the way he feels inside me, the way he still finds a way to keep me stretched. 

My nails dig into his shoulders, and he growls. Seems he’s slipping, too.

He pulls out, just a little, before pushing back in, harder this time. The sound that escapes my lips is strangled and high-pitched.

He thrusts in again and again, and I let myself succumb to the heat fog.

Time has passed. I don’t know how much.

There is only heat. 

Only need.

Only him.

The room is dark now. Lights dimmed to nothing. The nest is a mess, but it’s comfy and smells like us.

Safe.

I’m pressed against Alpha, too scared to let him go. 

He smells different now. Stronger, more alpha. His scent is everywhere. Soothing me, stroking the heat.

He stares down from above me. I whine, wanting him closer, desperate to have as much of him as possible on me.

His response is instant. A low, rumbling growl that vibrates through both of us. He tightens his arms around me, pulling me flush against him. 

I bury my face into his neck, mouthing at the mark I left there. My mouth sucks in as much of him as I can. But it’s not enough.

More. More. More.

It gets to the point where it’s nothing but us now. 

There are no memories. No past. No future. Just us, here and now, and this burning heat that doesn’t dissipate.

Alpha’s breathing is heavier, his control long gone.

Every movement is driven by instinct. Every sound he makes is feral, raw. Each thrust designed to get me closer and closer to orgasm.

His hands grip my hips firmly.

“Safe,” he murmurs against my hair, more growl than word. “Got you. Safe.”

He repeats this whenever I get too whiny. But it gets me to relax every time.

Fabric rustles around us as skin slides against skin. 

“Please,” I beg, not even sure what I’m asking for. “Alpha…”

He grunts. “Shh, ‘mega. I’ve got you.”

I try to nod, but I’m too dizzy. All I can do is hold on for the ride.

We share breaths, heartbeats practically in sync. He growls as I start to flutter around him, his knot quick to find its spot inside of me. Even my pulses match up with the pulse of his cock.

We are one with each other, no longer alpha and omega, but one, whole being.

Alpha is being dumb. 

Alpha brought food. Put in nest.

Good Alpha.

But Alpha won’t eat.

Wrong.

He sits there, watching me, eyes sharp, body tense. Guarding instead of eating.

I stare at him.

He stares at me,

Food sits between us.

No.

I growl low in my chest and shove the food toward him.

He blinks, the pushes it back.

“No,” he rumbles. “Eat.”

Wrong. Very wrong.

Cannot eat until Alpha eats.

That is rule.

I bare my teeth and grab the bar, jamming it toward his mouth.

“Eat,” I demand.

He frowns at it like it’s offended him.

“Omega,” he warns with a commanding tone. “Eat. Now.”

My body wants to obey. But I don’t. I can’t.

I growl again, louder this time. I shove it at him again, the edge of it bumping his lips.

He pulls back, running a hand through his hair with a sigh.

Stupid Alpha. Eat so I can eat.

“Alpha… eat… first,” I manage to growl out. Dumb Alpha should understand now. 

He stares at me, frustration in his eyes, and running through our bond before he gives in.

He gently takes the bar from me before taking a large, deliberate bite.

My body instantly relaxes.

Good Alpha.

I watch him eat with a purr. When he’s finished, I take another bar and eat, leaning against him.

Good. Correct. World balanced.

After I’m done, he pulls me back into the nest, holding me close. His scent is calming, and I don’t want this to go away. Ever. I just want to stay in our nest, forever.

Alpha’s being mean now.

I sit on top of him, grinding, bouncing on his cock. 

I want his knot, but he won’t give it to me. He smells less alpha and talks more now. I wish he would just go back to how he was. 

Annoying Alpha, being so mean to me.

“Come on, love,” he growls below me. “You can do this. Keep grinding on me until you come. Need you to come hard for me, love.”

I’m whimpering, being as good as I can, but he’s ignoring my pleas. I want his knot, but he just won’t give it to me. 

My hips buck, trying to give him what he wants, but I’m ending up more frustrated that I don’t have a knot.

I shift, grinding down harder on Alpha’s cock, throwing my head back when I feel pleasure light up through me.

“That’s it, love. Ride my fuckin’ cock,” he encourages.

I keep my hips rocking back and forth, feeling the pleasure impossibly grow.

“Come on, ‘mega. You come on my cock, and you can have what you need.”

His fingers dig into my ass. I’m forced to take his cock deep, hard, just how I need it.

Drool starts to drip down my chin as I chase the feeling.

“That’s it,” he rumbles below me. “Good omegas work for their knots, love.”

His thumb moves to my clit, making me cry out. “Feel how close you are. Just come, and I’ll give you what you need.”

He hits that spot over and over until I can’t do anything but listen to his command. I’m fluttering and clenching around him as I go between screaming and being breathless all at the same time.

The slide of his knot into me has the world stuttering for a moment, and I can’t register the words he’s telling me.

My chest rises and falls in shallow, uneven pulls as my thoughts slowly untangle from themselves. The fog I’ve been in starts to disperse.

There’s a weight in my hand that I register as a water bottle and immediately start chugging.

A small, miserable noise escapes the back of my throat when I finish the bottle.

Simon’s head snaps toward me instantly.

He seems to piece together what’s happening and holds out his own half-finished bottle. I trade him without hesitation and start gulping down the rest. 

“With me, love?” he asks me gently. His voice sounds a lot more lucid than I feel.

I shrug, focusing on finishing the bottle. I pull away with a gasp.

“Kinda,” I mumble, licking my lips and hating how raw they feel.

Exhaustion hits me, and I sigh, slumping forward to rest my forehead against his shoulder.

“Seems like it,” he murmurs. 

I groan slightly, trying to get comfy without pulling on the knot.

“...How long have I been down?”

He hesitates, and my stomach drops.

“Simon,” I warn, a bit weak.

“About four days,” he answers simply.

My brain stops.

I blink a few times, pulling up so I can stare down at him.

Clearly, I just didn’t hear him right.

“...What?”

“Four days,” he repeats gently. 

I just continue staring down at him.

Four.

Fucking.

Days.

My throat starts to ache. I’ve been lost to my heat for four days.

“Holy shit,” I breathe. I look around the room, taking everything in. My eyes catch the pile of discarded wrappers and bottles across the room.

“Wow,” I mutter.

“How’s your head?”

“Empty,” I answer honestly. “‘M tired.”

“Sore?” he asks, a bit of concern flowing through the bond.

I nod a little. 

“Hurts to think.”

He rubs a hand over my back. “Don’t then. Rest.”

I don’t need to be told twice.

“Relax your throat, ‘mega,” Alpha says from above me. “You can take all of me. You’ve done it before, love. You can do it again.”

He lovingly strokes my throat where his mark is, bandage long gone. I swallow, relaxing my throat enough that he’s able to push in all the way to his knot.

My airway gets cut off, making me panic for a split second. He keeps himself in my throat, holding me there as I get used to the feeling again.

“Take a breath.”

As soon as I do, he’s lazily thrusting into my mouth. Slick gushes around the familiar toy I’m sitting on as he fucks my face.

“Fuck, look at you,” he growls. “Always taking your Alpha so well.”

I can’t stop the moan that leaves me, vibrating against his cock. He’s already struggling against me, and I can’t stop the primal urge to please him.

“Fuck. I’m close, ‘mega. Gonna come in that pretty mouth of yours, and you’re not going to swallow. Understand?”

I lazily nod up and down around his cock.

His grip around my throat tightens, keeping me in place. His pace slightly increases before he’s grunting and spilling down my throat and filling up my mouth.

He breathes heavily above me before pulling out of my mouth. “Stay open. Let me see what a good girl you are.”

I keep my mouth open, smiling slightly as he stares down at me.

“Good girl,” he says with a slight chuff. His hand comes to my mouth, and I feel him drop something in before he tells me, “swallow.”

I obey without hesitation, savoring the way his scent lingers in my mouth, lighting up my senses even more.

“Open,” he tells me. “Wanna see all of it gone.”

Once again, I’m obeying quickly, wanting to please Alpha. I even stick my tongue out to show how good I’ve been.

His eyes dart around my mouth before he caresses my jaw. “There’s my good girl. Always listening so well to her alpha.”

I purr at his touch, my chest full of emotion as I stare up at him. “Come on, sweet girl. Did so well f’ me. Let’s take care of you now.”

He shifts us so I’m on my back with him hovering above me. He carefully takes the toy out of me before replacing it with his fingers.

“Fucking hell,” he grunts above me. “So wet for me, sweet ‘mega. All because you love your Alpha’s cock in your mouth, hm?”

He moves his fingers lazily in and out of me, making sure to hit the spot that has me instantly whining. 

“So sensitive,” he rumbles.

His pace starts to quicken, thumb lightly pressing against my clit. That touch alone has me quickly spiraling towards my orgasm.

“Yes. Alpha, please,” I gasp. “Don’t stop. Please!”

He leans down, nipping at my earlobe. “So polite,” he coos. “Go on. Tell Alpha what you need.”

I try to find the words, but I can’t, my head’s too fuzzy, body too hot. All I can do is press my hips up against his hands, trying to get more.

“Words, ‘mega,” he coos.

I whine, trying to find them. “Hard… Harder, Alpha. Please.”

“Good girl,” he says with a chuff against my ear.

His pace increases slightly as he slams harder into me. “Need you to come f’ me,” he growls. “Now.”

My body instantly obeys, orgasm tearing through my body. He continues moving his fingers, working me through pulse after pulse of my orgasm as I do my best to try and hang on.

As I jerk and pull away from overstimulation, he slows down before gently pulling his fingers from me and flipping us so I’m lying on his chest.

Ragged breath after ragged breath leaves me as my body lightly jerks from the aftershocks. 

Ever so slowly, the fog I was under slowly lifts. I shift, feeling a bit odd, as I suddenly become way too aware of everything.

As I gain clarity, my body jerks with a slight chill. “Wha—?”

“Sorry, love,” Simon says from below me. “That was a bit of a dirty trick, I know. But I had to get you out of your heat. You’ve been down for far too long.” 

“How…” but the words die, body too exhausted to actually form words.

“Six days,” he tells me, already knowing what I was going to ask.

My heart starts racing. 

“Oh my god.”

His hand comes up to my arm, thumb rubbing slow, steady circles.

I swallow and force myself to breathe.

“You’re okay,” he assures me. “Haven’t done anything wrong.”

I let out a shuddery breath, relaxing against him as best as I can.

“Alright,” I say shakily. “Okay. Let’s… Hold on. Let me just think.”

The words come out a little slurred, and my brain feels like it’s thinking a second behind what I’m saying.

“What… What just happened?”

He runs a hand up and down my back. “Slipped you a pill to stop your heat. Nurse said she was worried about how long this heat was lasting. She was extra concerned that you’ve been feral for most of it.”

A spike of panic goes through me.

“Holy shit.” I stare at the wall, my brain working to catch up with that. “I… I don’t remember most of it.”

“You’ve had some little moments of lucidity here and there,” he explains. “But most of the time, your instincts have been running the show.”

I bury my face into his chest with a groan. “Hate my heats,” I mumble.

“I don’t,” he mumbles. “Been so cute f’me.”

“Yeah?” I ask, a bit curious. 

“Mhm,” Simon hums. “Kept tryin’ to feed me, adamant I get the first bite. Wouldn’t eat until I did.”

I smile against his shoulder. “That tracks.”

“Also, you’re quite the little humper.”

I freeze. “Pardon me?”

“Any time I wasn’t either holding you or in you, you were rubbing up against something. Pillow. Blanket. My leg.”

My eyes widen.

“Woke up once to you half-asleep and determined to ride my hand,” he continues. “You were whimpering like it was a matter of life or death.”

I groan.

“Like a cute little dog, just humpin' every—”

I slap a hand over his mouth. “Okay. Okay. I get it. You can shut up now.”

His chest rumbles with a laugh beneath my hand. When he stops, I let my hand fall away, an involuntary smile tugging at my own lips. 

It feels so weird to feel this light after… everything.

Six days.

The number echoes in my head again. It’s weird, having a week of my life just… gone. The thought should terrify me. And it does, a little… But lying here with Simon’s warmth seeping into me makes the terror feel… distant.

His scent is all over me, all over the room, all over this mess below us that I feel like would hardly qualify as a nest at this point. It’s mixed with something else that makes me scrunch up my face. 

“Why does it smell like vanilla in here?”

He chuffs, “That’s you, love.”

I blink. “Huh?”

“Your scents changed slowly, ever since I marked you. Wasn’t super noticeable the first few days, but these last two it’s really blossomed.”

I rub my head, my head hurting at the new bit of info.

“Think you can handle some water?” Simon asks me softly.

I nod against his chest before we shuffle so I can sit up and drink better.

I knock out the first bottle of water he hands me in no time flat, making him chuckle. He grabs another and hands it to me.

“Slow this time, don’t need you choking.” 

I nod, taking long sips, but not guzzling down the whole bottle as quickly this time.

The whole room looks trashed. Even more wrappers and bottles lay littered around our messy nest. 

My brows furrow as I look over everything.

“Did… Did you eat?” I ask him. I don’t remember eating, but then again, I’m not remembering much at this point.

He huffs out a laugh. “Yes, love. Ate plenty, drank plenty,” he assures me. “Did most of it when you were passed out. Wouldn’t let me leave you when you were awake.”

I blush, a little embarrassed by my feral behavior.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks after a beat.

“Tired,” I answer truthfully. “And really gross.”

“Gross?” he asks, a little confused.

I nod. “Yeah, I really need a shower,” I say. I’m suddenly aware of how sweaty and sticky I am, and it makes my stomach churn. “Actually, I really, really need to shower.”

He lets out a soft chuckle. “Alright. Let’s get you all cleaned up then, love.”

The worst part of heat is the post-heat, especially for a heat as dramatic as the one I just went through. 

My teeth are chattering as I stand in front of the door that’s kept us locked away for nearly a week. I’m bundled up in jackets and extra clothes, but this is just my body’s way of reacting to the fever I’ve had for so long. 

“K-kinda miss my heat already,” I say to Simon, who's standing beside me.

His brow lifts from behind the balaclava he’s got on. 

“This is the first time since coming to the UK that I haven’t felt cold. Now here we are…”

The sound of beeping from the other side of the door cuts off the conversation before Simon can respond. 

There’s a small delay before the sound of the lock disengaging fills the room. Simon opens the door, holding it open for me. I grab two, very large scent-blocked bags of our belongings and step through the door before Simon follows me with two of his own.

Outside the room, two figures wait for us.

One, the nurse Ghost trusts. The other, Price.

A rush of emotions hits me all at once. Relief, anger, gratitude, and frustration all run through me as I think about what he’s done for us, but also how we’ve suffered because of his choices.

Before I can say anything, the nurse steps forward, clearly sensing the tension.

She pulls the small cart she has with her closer. “Before you all get reacquainted,” she says briskly, “let me get a few quick vitals.”

I hold Price’s gaze for a few seconds longer than necessary. Then, I tear my eyes away and nod.

She takes that as her cue. “Go ahead and have a seat for me,” she says gently. “And I’m going to need your jacket off for a moment. I know you’re probably cold, I’m sorry. I just need better access to your arm.”

“‘S okay,” I mumble. My voice comes out strained as I shrug out of the hoodie and take a seat.

She works quickly, wrapping a cuff around my arm and clipping a sensor to my finger. While that runs, she presses a thermometer to my temple and gently swabs my mouth.

The machines beep, and she removes everything just as efficiently.

“Alright,” she says. “One more thing. Just need to check the mating mark.”

I flinch without meaning to.

My eyes flick to Simon. He’s standing a few feet away, arms crossed, watching me like a hawk.

He nods once, and I feel reassurance flood through the bond.

I take a breath, then scoot forward on the chair and tilt my head up, baring my neck.

“Thank you,” she says quietly.

Her hands are careful, but I can’t stop the small jerk when she touches me.

I close my eyes, forcing myself to relax as she starts pressing gently.

“Mmh,” she hums as she pulls back. “Healed beautifully. How does it feel? Tender?”

“A little,” I admit, lowering my head back down. “But honestly… everything hurts right now.”

She gives a soft noise of agreement.

“That’s normal. You’ll feel a lot better in a day or two once you get some real rest.”

Then, a bit drier, “I’d recommend avoiding intimate activity for a few days to let your body recover. Though I know that can be difficult with a new mate.”

I snort weakly as Simon clears his throat.

She smiles faintly. “You can put your jacket back on.”

“Thank you,” I breathe, pulling it on immediately.

Once I’m done, she looks between me and her tablet.

“So,” she says. “There is something important we need to talk about.”

My stomach drops.

“When you first got in here,” she continues, “I was able to sneak a blood sample.”

I glance at Simon, but he doesn’t look surprised.

Great.

“Long story short,” she says, “your omegastron levels are dangerously low. Practically nonexistent.”

My throat tightens.

“This means your body has been operating in survival mode for a long time,” she explains. “Which explains why you’re basically a hairpin trigger for going feral.”

My face burns.

“It also explains why your scent is different,” she continues. “Low levels of omegastron can lead to damage to your scent glands, leading to that sort of burning tinge to your scent.”

“So all along… vanilla was my scent?” I ask, a bit dumbfounded.

“Mmhm,” she hums. “The intense mating session you just went through seems to have helped regulate some of those levels. But, this isn’t a fix.”

She levels a look at me.

“It’s more of a poor excuse for a band-aid than anything else. I had Ghost slip you the suppressant because I was worried you staying in heat and being feverish for so long was going to start frying your brain cells.”

She readjusts herself briefly while I nod along to what she’s saying.

“While being intimate with your mate can help bring up your levels some, what you really need is a strict regimen of hormones,” she continues. “It will not be easy, but it is the only way you’re really going to be able to start healing and get your levels to a sustainable level.”

My mind spins as I take in the news.

“For now,” she says with a small smile. “I’ll just administer a shot to help for the new twenty-four hours while I try and sneak a prescription for you. It’ll be a strong one, so you’ll need to take it easy. Rest, eat, and drink as much water as you can. Do not push yourself.”

She levels me a look that makes me swallow. “Yes, ma’am,” I respond automatically before adding, “thank you.”

“Of course,” she says evenly. “Oh, and one more thing for me?”

I cock my head.

“Please try to keep the mauling to a minimum,” she says, cocking her head towards Price. “I’d rather not stitch anyone up tonight.”

I laugh weakly. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll try my best.”

She finishes up, giving me my shot before turning to Simon. “Your turn, Ghost.”

He steps forward, and she repeats the same process. Much to Simon’s credit, he doesn’t flinch, hardly even moves. He just sits there and takes it.

The silence in the room is heavy, broken up only by the beeps of her machines as Price and I stand awkwardly next to each other.

She finishes up a lot quicker, just needing to do a quick once-over of his injuries. When she’s done, her attention turns to Price.

“Captain,” she says, her tone shifting. “They’re in your care now.”

Price nods, jaw tight. “Appreciate it.”

She gestures towards the pile of bags. “You can leave those here,” she points to the door. “I have someone we trust coming to pick them up and clean up everything discreetly.”

“Thank you,” I say with a nod, too exhausted to argue. 

“Now… I’ve done my part,” she says, some finality in her tone. “I’ll see you both in the morning for a follow-up and for your meds. For now, get rest. I mean it.”

With that, she packs up her cart and leaves, the door clicking shut behind her.

The silence that follows is far too loud.

I hug myself, suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable despite all the layers I’m wearing.

Price clears his throat.

“Take a seat,” he says, gesturing to the chairs in front of his desk.

After a beat of hesitation, I do as he says. I spend a few moments getting comfortable in the chair before I even dare to try and look at Price.

“So…” My voice comes out tighter than I mean it to. “I think I know what you were trying to tell me at the cabin.”

I meant it to come out a bit jovial, but I think I missed the mark, because Price winces.

Silence stretches. I pick at the cuff of my sleeve, twisting the fabric in my fingers.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” I ask, voice quieter now.

Price exhales through his nose, leaning back.

“Official answer?” he says. “That information is classified.”

I look up at him.

“The real answer… it’s messy.”

That’s not a good enough response, and I think he can see that on my face.

“Ghost’s designation is unique, and it’s buried for a reason.”

A beat.

“...Okay,” I say slowly. “What reason is that?”

Price glances at Simon.

“It means I don’t work like other alphas,” he says, voice low.

I turn toward him.

“It’s not just my ability to command other alphas…” he pauses, like he’s trying to figure out how to put things. “My pheremones can allow me to affect those around me.”

I frown. “How so?”

“They can stabilize a pack,” Price cuts in, more straightforward. “Boost resilience, health, cohesion between a pack, even.”

I blink. “That sounds… good?”

“On the flip side, it can also be used to do the opposite,” Simon clarifies. “I can make those around me sick, angry… that kind of thing.”

“Oh,” I say, things suddenly making sense.

“When people find out,” he continues, “they don’t see a person. They tend to see an asset.”

Simon’s jaw tightens.

“More often than not, people hunt primes,” Price says plainly. “Would rather get rid of them or keep them for themselves.”

I freeze in my seat.

“Things used to be worse,” Simon adds. “At one point in time, there were breeding programs and regulations.”

My stomach turns. “I take it only primes can produce other primes?”

Simon shrugs. “It’s not a guarantee,” he says, a hint of distaste in his voice. “But the odds are significantly higher. Most of the programs ended up failing or getting dismantled after the First World War.”

“There was a huge push for control after that, which led to a lot of primes getting mass murdered.”

“By who?”

“Everyone,” he answers simply. “It was easier for governments to wipe them out and act like they didn’t exist than to try and keep control over them. That’s why there are so few left.”

I nod, soaking this all in. “And now I’m mated to one,” I say slowly, recognition sitting in.

“Now you’re mated to one,” Price confirms.

My head spins, and everything I thought was weird the past couple of months starts to make sense. 

Price sighs heavily. “Most of this is admittedly my fault. I’ve done my best to keep Simon’s designation a secret. Falsified his records, reclassifying him as a high-dominance alpha. It worked until that ‘research team’ started poking their nose where it shouldn’t be.”

“They were onto me from the beginning,” Simon adds, trying to help take some of the blame off Price.

“I should have never agreed to it in the first place,” Price counters. “Thought it wasn’t as big a deal as it was. They made it seem like simple stuff. Performance data, stress responses, how an all-alpha pack can affect one another.”

He exhales.

“Then they started pushing. Hard. They were demanding more samples, more testing, needing more and more access to things.”

Simon shifts beside me, and I take the opportunity to sit up straighter, not realizing how slumped into myself I was.

“Just as we started to think that maybe they were catching onto Simon, omegas got brought up. They were really adamant about wanting to see ‘how omegas could affect alphas in a military setting’.”

My brows furrow. 

“That… doesn’t make sense. If they wanted Simon, why involve us?”

“We weren’t sure either, but we couldn’t just walk away from them,” Price explains. “Higher-ups had already agreed on our behalf to continue.”

“So someone higher up had sway in this,” I say.

Price nods. “We were lucky enough to get Kate involved in this, trying to see if she could help us uncover what they were really going after.”

“Wait,” I murmur, slightly shaking my head. “How does this lead to me getting poisoned?”

Price’s eyes harden.

“We believe that whoever is pulling the strings with the research team was trying to either expose Simon or split us all apart so that they could get him by himself.”

“That solo mission I went on,” Simon chimes in. “The one where I called in the lads…”

I nod, following along.

“Private military contractors were there,” he continues. “Ones we’ve crossed before.”

“Come to find out, they have a long history of hunting primes,” Price explains. “Even a couple of contracts with foreign countries.”

My blood runs cold.

“And because Simon has personal history with some of their members,” Price adds, “he became an even bigger—”

“—target,” I finish as the pieces finally connect. I stare down at the desk, wide-eyed and in shock. “...Holy shit.”

I lift my head slowly. No one speaks for a long moment as the last few months play in my head.

As things really come together, I lean back in my chair, dragging a hand down my face.

“Fuck,” I mutter, shaking my head. “Still, would’ve been nice to know.”

Price exhales slowly. “You were barely holding yourself together when you got here,” he says. “Last thing you needed was more weight on your shoulders.”

I huff out a quiet, humorless laugh.

“What you needed,” he continues, “was the chance to choose Simon without wondering if he was influencing you.”

My mouth twists.

“John,” Simon warns, low.

But it’s too late.

Rage sparks through my chest, and a growl slips out before I can catch it.

“Oh, so you just decide what’s best for me now?”

My hands curl into fists.

“That’s a hell of a call to make on my behalf.”

The chair legs scrape loudly as I push myself to my feet.

“You left me in the dark,” I snap. “Lied to me, to my face, for months.”

Price watches, his face unreadable.

“I think I’ve more than proven I’m not some fragile little omega that needs an alpha to make decisions for her,” I go on, voice raising slightly. “You keep telling me I’m part of this pack, that I matter, but what, that all stops when it comes to making decisions for me?”

Silence slams down around us. I can hear my own heartbeat, loud and uneven.

“You should have trusted me.” My voice cracks, and I hate it.

Price holds my gaze and for a long moment, says nothing.

Then his eyes drop to the desk, and his jaw ticks.

“You’re right.”

The words knock the breath out of me.

My anger stutters, thrown off by how easily it comes.

He looks back up at me, and for the first time, I see more than just a captain in his eyes. I see the weight he’s carrying.

“You’re right,” he repeats. “I made the wrong call.”

There’s no edge to it. No defense. 

“I was trying to protect my pack,” he says. “Thought that this was the best way to do so, but I actually put you at risk.”

That lands hard.

“There’s no excuse for that,” he adds. “I’m truly sorry.”

I don’t realize I’ve sat back down until the chair creaks below me. I was ready for a fight, ready for him to push back, remind me of my place.

Every head alpha before him would have.

But he doesn’t.

I swallow, my anger unraveling into something I don’t quite know what to do with.

My gaze flicks to Simon, but he’s looking at Price, not me. Something tense and complicated moves through our bond.

“...Okay,” I say finally, quieter now. My fingers go back to picking at my sleeve. “Th… Thank you.”

It feels strange to say.

We sit there for a second, air still thick, but different now.

I take a breath, chewing on my bottom lip. “So… what do we do now?”

There’s a beat of silence as the two alphas look between each other.

“Like,” I continue. “What do we tell the girls, or… did we tell them?”

“The girls know,” Price says with a heavy sigh. “Had to tell them after everything happened.”

My chest tightens.

“They were the ones to pack your things,” he continues.

“...right.”

“They’ve been asking about you every day, wanting to make sure you’re okay,” he offers.

Guilt hits me, making Simon place a hand on my thigh. I look down at his hand, before lacing my fingers with his and squeezing. 

 were the ones to get your things together, and they’ve been asking every day about if you’ve improved.”

“Okay,” I sigh. “Well, that’s… good. One less thing, I guess.”

I lean back slightly, though my shoulders still feel tight. My eyes flick to Price, then away again.

There’s too much now. Too many things that could go wrong, I don’t even know where to start.

“Do, uh… do you guys have a plan?” I ask, hesitantly.

Price’s jaw tightens. “We’re working on it,” he sighs. “Right now, priority’s you. Getting you stable and healthy.” 

His gaze flicks briefly to Simon, then back to me. “Then we deal with the rest.”

Something in his tone makes my stomach twist. 

“This whole thing throws a bit of a wrench into things. We’ve done a bit of a cover-up to hide what really happened,” Price explains. “The official story is that Ghost had an unexpected rut during training that triggered your heat. You were both contained until it passed.”

I nod along, it makes sense.

His voice hardens just slightly as he catches my gaze one more time. “No one outside of our pack can know what he is. Is that understood?”

I nod, throat feeling too tight to speak. That part is easy, I know how to keep secrets.

Silence stretches again before Simon speaks up.

“You got anything else, love?” he asks, voice quieter than before.

I think about it, about everything, before shaking my head.

It’s like all of the emotions decide to hit me at once then. My scent turns sour, that familiar burnt edge creeping back in.

Both of them react immediately.

I drop my gaze, wiping at a tear before it can fall.

Simon squeezes my thigh before pulling away and placing a heavy, warm, hand on the back of my neck.

I lean into the touch without realizing I’m doing it. It helps. 

Not enough to quiet the storm in my head, but enough to keep me from slipping into it. 

My eyes drift around Price’s office, taking in the stack of files, the worn map on the wall, the picture frame that’s turned away from me.

It all feels so… normal. So mundane. Like the world hasn’t just been flipped upside down.

But it has.

I’m mated to a prime alpha. My hormones are fucked. My pack is in even more danger than I ever thought.

A wave of nausea washes over me, and I have to take a few steadying breaths to push it back. 

“I think we’re done here,” Price says, voice softening. It’s crazy how much authority he can still have when he’s gentle like this. “You should get back to the den, get some rest. Girls’ll want to see you.”

I nod, staring at my hands. Simon shifts closer, letting me lean into him as I blink back the tears in my eyes.

“T-thank you,” I manage to mutter out.

Price nods. “Of course.”

There’s a pause, then he stands.

“And, Boo…” he adds.

I glance up.

“I am sorry,” he says. “And I want you to know that I will do everything I can to make sure you and the other omegas are safe. That’s my responsibility.”

Something in my chest loosens, just a little.

I push myself up and step forward, wrapping my arms around him before I can overthink it.

He stiffens for half a second, then returns it.

When we pull back, my legs wobble slightly, but Simon’s already there.

“Alright,” he murmurs. “Let’s get you home, yeah, love?”

 I nod, and we leave Price’s office after some quick goodbyes.

The journey back home feels like I’m walking through a dream. Or a nightmare, even. 

My head is a little fuzzy, limbs extra heavy. Every light in the hallway seems too bright, every sound too loud.

Simon’s a steady presence at my side, a solid wall I can’t help but instinctively lean on. His arm is wrapped around my waist, supporting most of my weight. The world tilts and sways, but he’s always there, keeping me upright.

My mind drifts as we walk, the nurse’s words echoing in the empty spaces of my memory.

‘Omegastron levels are dangerously low… Your body has been operating in survival mode for a long, long time.’

Memories of me snapping and going feral replay in my mind. Could it really be that all this time I’ve been so reactive because my hormone levels have been so low? How did they get like that? How did I not notice it was so bad?

Simon seems to notice I’m lost in my head and rubs my back in support. I give him a small smile before realizing that we’re already home. 

“You ready?” he asks me softly. 

I stare at his eyes through his mask for a beat and then nod. 

We open the door to warmth. 

Not just the temperature, but the overall feeling of the place. The scent of our pack greets us, and something settles deep into my chest.

We walk into the living room and are immediately met with, “BOO!”

Bee is on her feet before I can even blink.

She’s launching herself across the room like a missile and wraps her arms around me like I’ll float away if she doesn’t.

“Oof—” I wheeze as she crashes into me.

Simon’s arm instantly tightens around me to keep me upright.

“Careful,” he mutters.

Bee pulls back just enough to look at my face, hands gripping my shoulders.

“You’re back,” she breathes, eyes quickly turning shiny.

Bun appears a second later, quieter but no less intense. She looks up at Simon, a bit uncertain, before reaching out to lightly grab my arm.

“Hi,” she says softly.

Red stands a little further back. She watches me with that steady presence she always seems to carry.

“Welcome home,” she says.

Something in my chest cracks open.

I hadn’t realized how much I needed to hear that.

“Hi,” I say with a watery laugh, my eyes washing over all of them. 

“Good to be home.” PREVIOUS | NEXT A/N: Welp, can't promise that the next chapter will be out next week, but I'm going to try to my best. The next chapter is like 15% written and the rest is 95% written. 😅 Like I said, I'm gonna try my best and aim for weekly updates at this point, but just take that with a grain of salt.💜

As always, a huge, huge thank you to all you lovelies who leave likes and comments. May your pillows always be cold and your food always hair-free. 💜

Bee

Christmas is my favorite time of year. 

The lights, the music, the smells… I love all of it.

But the best part has always been the people. The way everyone smiles more. Strangers on the street, cashiers in stores, even people who normally look like they’ve got the weight of the world on their shoulders seem a little brighter this time of year.

It’s contagious. So contagious in fact, that even Ghost is smiling.

It’s… weird.

Not bad weird. Just new weird. Seeing him without the mask is still throwing me off. I thought I’d gotten used to it back at Johnny’s place, but looking back, I think I was so focused on not embarrassing myself in front of his family that I didn’t really let myself look.

Now, with him curled up on the couch in this giant mountain cabin, Boo tucked up in his side, I find myself sneaking glances when I think neither of them are watching.

He doesn’t smile big. It’s barely there, really. Just a slight curve at the corner of his mouth when Boo laughs at something on the screen. But it’s still there.

This whole day has felt like this… just a little weird. It’s the first year not really being with my parents on the holiday, but I think now that the whole pack is piled together in front of the fireplace, watching movies, I think it’s been more than worth it.

Johnny and I drove up from my parents’ place this morning, and the trip itself was an adventure I will apparently be taking to my grave.

We almost hit a deer. I got sick on the winding roads. And then we almost crashed the car at least twice. But I’ve been sworn to secrecy. Apparently, Ghost is supposed to be the bad driver of the pack, not Johnny, and I’m not about to ruin the narrative.

When we finally made it up the mountain, early in the morning, we were surprised to find John and Red already there.

Turns out Red’s visit with her parents got cut short. She didn’t give me many details, just said that her mum was being “a bit too much” and John decided it was better to leave early. They’d gotten her three days ago.

Honestly? The story tracks. The cabin smelled so strongly of them, I wouldn’t be surprised if they secretly lived here. I can only imagine what they’d been up to, alone and freshly mated in a place this big for that long.

I’m only just a little jealous.

Bun was the next to show up with Kyle, half an hour later. I wasted no time filling her in. I offered to help her unpack and immediately, we started scheming. Red was being quieter than normal, and I didn’t like it, especially on Christmas Eve.

So, we decided to decorate.

Because, for some reason, this cabin was decorated. Not even a wreath on the door.

We just needed Boo and Ghost to arrive, so Boo could distract the guys while we did our thing. Lord knows if the alphas tried to help, it would turn into a whole thing. Well-meaning, I’m sure, but way too chaotic.

Luckily, my mum put me in charge of decorating our house every year growing up. Military household, lots of structure, very few traditions that weren’t scheduled. So when Christmas rolled around, it was my job to make it feel like Christmas.

I’ve always taken that responsibility very seriously.

Between the garage and the kids’ playroom, I ended up striking gold. Boxes of decorations, half-used craft supplies, random ribbons, glitter, everything I could need and more.

Bun and I stayed busy for another hour and a half, keeping Red company while we waited for the last pair to arrive.

The second Boo and Ghost pulled up, Bun and I bolted for the door.

She stepped out of the car, already smiling, absolutely reeking of Ghost. After some light ribbing, we filled her in on our plan.

Boo’s eyes lit up immediately. She agreed, and we gave her ten minutes to get settled in and say hello before we’d get ot work.

As soon as she reemerged, Bun and I exchanged a look.

Showtime.

I hooked my phone up to the cabin’s stereo and didn’t even pretend to ease into it. Full-volume holiday cheer filled the house, the kind that makes you want to dance and smile, whether or not you admit it. 

There were a couple of surprised laughs, and someone groaned dramatically, but no one actually complained, apparently letting me enjoy my nonsense.

Success.

Boo was quick to herd the alphas into the kitchen with an ease that kind of amazes me. The second they were out of sight, I rolled up my sleeves.

“Alright,” I said, clapping my hands once. “It’s go time.”

Bun mirrored me, rolling up her sleeves with a twinkle in her eyes. “What’s the plan?”

Red looked between the two of us, cleary trying to figure out when she’d lost control of the situation. She opened her mouth like she was about to ask a very reasonable question, but we didn’t give her the chance.

We swept her up into it, placing lights in her hands, shoving her to a corner where the tree was going to go, a job assigned before she could overthink it.

She protested for all of thirty seconds before she sighed and gave it, shaking her head.

Once we got going, it was easy. Music played, Bun and I humming along as we worked. I bounced between rooms with decorations, trying to add magic anywhere I could. 

Red worked on the tree like a pro, her focus shifting from the world outside the cabin to what was right in front of her.

Every now and then, I caught her smiling.

Not the polite kind. The real kind. The one that sneaks up on you when you forget you’re supposed to be composed. The Christmas one.

My heart warms a little.

By the time we were finally done, hours later, the cabin had been completely transformed. 

It was warm, bright. Like something out of one of those home decorating magazines my mum used to leave open on the coffee table every December.

Lights glowed in every corner, decorations filled the space, it felt more like a Christmas getaway than when we’d first arrived.

I leaned back against the wall, hands on my hips, and grinned.

Nailed it. Again.

Boo was the first to stick her head out of the kitchen. Her eyes widened almost immediately as she took everything in. She took a few careful steps out into the room, almost as if she was afraid it might disappear if she moved too fast.

“Wow,” she drawled softly.

That was all it took.

The alphas followed her out almost instantly. Ghost appeared at her side without a sound, eyes sweeping the room in a quick, practiced scan. I’m surprised when they quickly go back to her face, like her reaction matter more than anything else.

Johnny and Kyle spilled out after them, their loud mutterings quickly getting cut off as they take everything in.

Red straightened a little, posture stiffening, like she was bracing for inspection. Bun was practically bouncing on the balls of her feet, excited by the final layout of everything.

I stayed where I was, arms crossing over my chest, pride buzzing against my ribs. Watching people’s reactions is always the best part. The decorations are nice, sure. 

But that?

That is why I do it.

They just stood there, taking it in. Lights twinkled softly around us, the tree glowed bright in the corner, garlands were draped perfectly around mantles and the staircase. For just a brief moment, it was like everyone was a little kid again, seeing Christmas for the first time.

I wasn’t surprised when my Johnny was the one to break the silence.

“Steamin’ Jesus,” he said, slow and impressed. “It’s like Santa threw up in here. But in a good way.”

Bun gasped, clutching her chest theatrically, making us all laugh. Johnny came over, slinging an arm around my shoulders, giving me a quick side hug while his eyes kept darting around the room, clearly trying to take in everything at once.

We let the guys point out a few more details, basking in the glow of their admission, before Boo finally spoke up.

“Dinner’s ready,” she announced. “And I’ve got cookies set out for afterward. They’ve got to be decorated if we’re leaving them out for Santa,” she added with a teasing smile.

That was all the motivation anyone needed.

We migrated into the kitchen almost immediately, filling our plates with the massive feast the guys had been working on. Bun and I just stood there for a moment, a little stunned, staring at the spread laid out in front of us.

It looked like one of those Thanksgiving tables Boo had shown us pictures of, food everywhere, and using up every platter this kitchen probably had.

We were eating, drinking, and laughing in no time, trading stories about how our afternoons went. 

Red dubbed me the Christmas Czar after I was apparently too intense about ornament placement, and Boo was jokingly offered a drill sergeant position by John for how she was bossing the guys around in the kitchen.

Somehow, after that food, we still managed to decorate cookies while leftovers were packed away. Frosting ended up everywhere, sprinkles were spilled, and no two cookies looked remotely alike.

Eventually, we drifted back into the living room, mugs of hot chocolate in hand, settling into the couches and floor space for Christmas movies. Bodies pressed close, conversations overlapping, someone inevitably bringing up whether Die Hard counted as a Christmas movie.

So here we are.

Snuggled together as a pack, voices low and content, scents mingling until the cabin smells unmistakably like us. The kind of warmth that brings easy smiles and settles in your chest makes its way through the room. There’s not a single frown in sight.

Gosh.

Christmas is my favorite time of year.

Boo

Christmas morning, I’m woken up to the sound of thundering footsteps running to the front of our door.

There’s a moment of hesitation and not-so-hushed whispers before there’s knocking on the door.

“Yes?” I call out, already smiling into the pillow.

“Um… do you mind…?” Bun starts, voice soft and polite even through the door. Bee quickly steamrolls straight over her.

“SANTA CAME!”

Simon huffs a laugh beside me, his arm moving from my waist as I shift upright. I blink blearily at the dim light in the room. Thankfully, the sun is up, but it hasn’t been up for long.

“Did he?” I ask through a yawn as I rub my eyes.

“Yes!” Bee says, barely dropping her volume. “So could you please come out so we can see what he brought us?”

I glance down at Simon, who’s watching me with a soft, fond look that has my chest warming. 

“Alright,” I say with a small smile. “Give us a minute and we’ll be out. Can someone put the coffee on?”

There’s an immediate scuffle in the hallway followed by giggles as they work their way down the corridor.

The peace lasts all of ten seconds before there’s another round of knocking and excited squeals.

“Captain! Price! Wake up!” Bee stage-whispers far too loudly. “It’s CHRISTMAS!”

Simon and I get out of bed, putting on the pajamas that Bee requested us to wear. The smell of coffee wafts through the air right as I reach the door. 

The memory of last night plays in my head as I make my way to the living room.

Price and I had planned it while we were working on dinner in the kitchen. Since we were the heads of the pack, we’d meet after everyone went to bed to make it look like Santa had visited. 

The girls had gone down easy enough.

Hot cocoa that was ninety percent marshmallows and a rotation of classic Christmas movies had done most of the work for us.

Bee fought hard, curled up against Soap with her mug clutched in both hands as she insisted that she was still totally awake, but ultimately ended up passing out first.

Bun followed soon after, tucked under a blanket and out cold before the credits even rolled.

Once all the girls were settled, Price had met me in the hallway.

“You ready?” he’d whispered.

I’d grinned like a kid myself before nodding.

Sneaking around felt absurd and familiar all at once.

We moved softly into the living room, careful not to make the floor creak too much. We shared a few cookies straight from the plate, making sure to deliberately leave one behind with a bite taken out of it.

It was oddly amusing, watching a man who I knew commanded rooms and battlefields make sure a cookie had the most perfect-looking bite out of it.

We filled stockings next, tucking in small gifts and treats from bags that were labeled with each person’s name. We filled one anothers stockings so that we could share in on the excitement later in the morning. 

The last thing the living room got was some gifts Price had for the guys, stacked carefully beneath the tree.

Once everything inside was perfect, we bundled up and stepped out into the cold.

That was when things got tricky.

Our last job was easily the hardest. We had to make it look like reindeer had walked around out front. The snow outside was lightly falling as I tried to make hoofprints in the snow.

I tried a couple of attempts, laughing to myself about how ridiculous they were coming out. I eventually turned to Price, huffing out a quiet laugh in defeat. 

“You’re thinkin’ like it’s dirt,” he told me.

He stepped in front of me, using the heel of his boot to create more definitive shapes. I walked next to him, mimicking his actions before I started to make a set of tracks I was proud of. 

We spent a while out there, tip-toeing through the yard, until we were both too cold to do much more. When I got back to the porch, I grabbed a couple of carrots that had been left out and took big, uneven bites out of them, before tossing them out near the tracks.

Price watched me do it, then nodded once, clearly satisfied. “Looks like you’ve done this before.”

“Yeah,” I admitted quietly with a small smile. “Just in dirt, not snow.”

“Well,” he said, patting my back as he reached for the door, “Santa’s lucky to have you as a helper.”

The memory warms me now as Is teo into the living room. The sounds of gasps and excited voiced filling the room as the omegas take everything in. Red comes up next to me, bumping my shoulder slightly.

“You did good,” she whispers.

“Thanks,” I whisper back with a wink.

Price emerges from the hallway a moment later and we share a bried, knowing look, before beelining to the coffee pot to pour ourselves extra-large cups.

Bee is the first one to really lose her mind.

“Oh my God,” she breathes, pressing her face up against the cold glass. “There are hoofprints outside! Johnny! Johnny, look!”

Soap peers over her shoulder, coffee in hand, and lets out a low whistle. “Well, I’ll be damned.” 

Bun hovers on her other side, hands in front of her chest like she’s afraid to touch anything in case it disappears. Her eyes are wide, staring at the mess of prints outside.

“Wow! They ate the carrots!” she beams, looking over to Gaz with a wide smile.

Red stands at another window, looking outside with a small smile. “Looks like they were walking around in circles,” she comments. “Must have gotten into the eggnog.”

My laugh gets breathed into my coffee.

Bee turns around, mouth open to say something, before her eyes drift over to the fireplace.

“The stockings!” she gasps. “They were empty when we went to bed.”

The energy in the room shifts instantly. Excitement crackles through us all as our eyes snap to the mantle. We’re all smiles as Bee bounds over, nearly tripping over the edge of the rug in her rush.

“Mine’s heavy,” Bee announces immediately, bouncing on her heels. “Is yours heavy? Bun, is yours heavy?”

Bun comes over, laughing softly before plucking hers off the mantle. “Yeah. It is.”

“Might be coal,” Soap mutters, playfully.

Bee’s eyes go wide as she quickly opens hers up. She lets out a relieved breath before shooting daggers at Soap. “Not funny, Soap! You had me worried!”

“Like you could be anything but nice,” Red says with a shake of her head.

The rest of us make our way to the couches in the living room as Bee starts passing out the remaining stockings. 

The rest of the morning goes by in a wrapping-paper-colored blur.

Price is prepared, already stationed on the couch with a box of garbage bags as paper gets ripped free and tossed across the room. 

Empty mugs sit abandoned on the coffee table and side tables around the couch, discarded bows and ribbons tangled around them.

Bee is practically vibrating, surrounded by her haul, still holding up one of her gifts like she can’t believe it’s real. “Oh, Johnny,” she sighs, pressing it to her chest. “It’s so lovely. Thank you.”

Soap laughs warmly, tugging her impossibly closer against his side, clearly pleased with himself.

Bun sits cross-legged on the gloor, carefully folding up the last bit of tissue paper from her gifts, before touching her gifts again, like she’s savoring them for a second time. 

Gaz watches her with that soft, attentive focus of his. He murmurs something low into her ear that makes her smile and duck her head.

Red’s already started organizing. She’s stacked boxes and folded up gift bags to make them easier to put away later. She pauses every so often, fingers brushing over something thoughtful someone gav her.

The guys wear matching smiles, also happy with their hauls. The one gift that really stood out for them was matching, engraved survival knives that said “Task Force 141” on them. 

They all immediately started hounding Simon, telling him not to lose his, which was funny to watch.

I’m curled up against his side, savoring his warmth as our new gifts lie around us. I look up at him, taking in how gentle he is. Savoring it. Because I know as soon as we get back to base, that look will be locked up again.

He lifts a brow at me, staring down at me with those eyes that calculate everything. I just close mine, slowly resting my head against him before letting myself succumb to the exhaustion that I’ve been fighting off all morning with the lightest of purrs.

I drift in and out of consciousness, floating somewhere between sleep and awareness. The world reaches me in pieces while I curl more securely around my alpha. 

I catch fragments of conversation without having the energy to engage in them.

“You know you can’t move now, mate?” Soap says, amusement thick in his voice.

Simon chuffs quietly, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Aw… Oh! I’ve gotta get a picture,” Bee whispers urgently. “Mo is going to love this.”

“She looks so different,” Bun murmurs softly. “Less… tight. Like she’s actually resting.”

“Yeah,” Gaz agrees. “It’s crazy how less tense she looks.”

“She’s out,” Soap says with a hum. “Poor lass.”

“I wonder bow many bows we could stack on her head before she notices,” Bee muses.

“Absolutely not,” Price cuts in, firm but fond. “Leave her be. She had a long night.”

Someone laughs quietly, a phone camera clicks, but I don’t stir.

I just breathe, letting myself physically and mentally sink further into Simon. The room hums with warmth and life around us as I let myself go.

These past couple of months with my pack feel as though they’ve hardwired my DNA. I’m far less jumpy, less snappy, and being around them just makes me feel so… complete.

I know it’s going to be some time before we can really feel safe from the outside world, but for now, in our cabin in the woods, I let myself believe that we’re just that. Safe.

That gets completely blown out of the water three days later.

I’m tangled up with Simon in our room, the world reduced to warmth and the steady rise and fall of his chest. The first sparks of morning light catch fire in the sky, painting the ceiling in soft blues and grays. 

The new year creeps ever closer, and time feels as though it’s slipping by in slow, lazy breaths. 

My body is wrapped around Simon’s like I’m afraid he might disappear if I loosen my grip. The chill of the early morning air keeps me anchored under the covers, not quite ready to stir yet.

Simon and I are both only half-awake, drifting in that comfortable haze where neither of us feels the need to speak. His arm occasionally tightens around me, and I occasionally readjust my face. Small movements that tell us both we’re aware of one another's state of sleep, but are too tired to do anything about it.

The forest outside is quiet, the cold air proving too much for even the local fauna.

Then the quiet shatters.

A low, distant roar cuts through the trees, vibrating through the walls of the cabin. It’s not loud at first, more felt than heard. It’s a deep thrum that makes the glass hum faintly.

My brow furrows as I feel myself starting to pull out of my sleep, trying to make sense of it.

Simon’s already moving.

One second, he’s warm and solid beneath me, the next he’s up and out of bed. The shift is instant. The softness of the morning is gone, replaced by something sharp and alert.

“Simon?” I croak, my heart already starting to race as I try to figure out how to use my voice.

The roar gets louder, the walls rattling as whatever that noise is closes in. It almost feels like it’s right on top of us now, a relentless, rhythmic thud-thud-thud shaking the entire cabin.

Panic snaps through me.

I scramble out of bed, grabbing the first jacket I can reach before bolting into the hall after Simon.

“Wha—?” I start, the word tearing out of me as I chase him.

Soap and Gaz are already up too, all three alphas moving fast, bare feet slapping against the floor as they head straight for the front of the cabin. Their voices overlap, and I only catch fragments as I try to catch up to them. 

“—helicopter—!”

My stomach drops.

A helicopter?

Here?

Who is it? What could they want?

The noise swells until it’s almost unbearable, vibrating through my bones. I clap my hands over my ears, the sound pressing in from all sides, and skid to a stop in the living room as I see Bee and Bun rushing in. Both of them look just as rattled, eyes wide as we instinctively crowd closer together.

“What is happening?” Bun asks, her voice nearly lost under the roar.

I’m surprised when Price emerges with Red, seemingly unbothered by what’s happening.

“Captain?” I call over the noise as we all move toward the windows.

Price doesn’t answer right away, motioning for us to follow him instead, guiding us to the wide front window just as the sound peaks.

Outside, a helicopter descends into a small clearing in the trees. It’s dark and unmistakably military. Snow whips violently around it.

Price exhales next to me. “Nikolai.”

“Huh?” I say loudly, glancing between him and the chaos outside.

He looks down at me then, a faint smirk tugging at his mouth.

“That’s Nikolai. Looks like we have a guest.”

I study his face carefully, searching for any hint of tension, any sign that this is something I should be afraid of. But he’s relaxed, shoulders loose, and eyes steady. If anything, he just looks mildly inconvenienced by being woken up so early. 

My body matches his, the tension easing from my shoulders. The girls look to me, before their body language matches mine. We exchange some confused looks, and Red looks a bit perturbed by all of this.

Outside, the noise finally begins to fade as the engine powers down and the rotors slow, the violent chop of sound softening into something distant and manageable. 

The sudden quiet feels almost wrong after all that chaos, my ears ringing as the forest slowly settles again.

Cold air rushes in as the front door opens.

Simon steps back inside first, breath fogging in front of him, closely followed by the other two. 

Snow clings to them as they shiver from their lack of adequate clothing. 

“What’s Nikolai doing here?” Simon demands.

Price barely reacts. He just shrugs, completely unbothered. “Sent him an invite a while ago,” he says evenly. “Never got a confirmation, so I assumed he wasn’t coming.”

There’s a beat of stunned silence.

Soap lets out a short, incredulous laugh. “You assumed?”

Gaz even throws Price a look. “Since when do you assume anything with Nikolai?”

“Do we like Nikolai?” I ask, not understanding the subtle hostility in the alpha’s voices.

“Yes,” Price says with a huff of a breath and a smile. “In hindsight, I should have mentioned it. But I didn’t want to say anything if he wasn’t going to show.”

Simon’s jaw works as he exhales slowly, clearly biting back what he actually wants to say. He starts moving past me, most likely to go put on some proper clothes.

“Who is this guy?” I ask carefully.

Price looks at me. “An ally,” he says plainly. “Someone we often call for transport.”

Simon grumbles something under his breath, and I decide to follow him.

“We should probably all put on some clothes then,” I offer to the other omegas, trying to inject a bit of normalcy into the moment.

There’s a chorus of murmured agreements, but Simon is already halfway down the hall, shoulders tense as he heads back toward our room. I trail after him, shutting the door softly behind us once we’re inside.

Simon’s already at the dresser, pulling on a shirt with more force than necessary. I watch him for a moment before stepping closer, slipping my arms around his waist from behind.

He stiffens for half a second before melting into me.

“I take it, you don’t like this guy?” I murmur into his back.

“Not that,” he offers. “He’s just… unpredictable. Didn’t realize how much of a problem that could be until now.”

He turns then, cupping my face gently, eyes analyzing every inch of my face. His gaze softens when I give him a small smile.

“You okay?” he asks quietly.

I huff out a breath. “I feel like I should be asking you that,” I tease. “Jumped out of the bed like a freshly born lamb.”

“Didn’t know who it was,” he offered.

I hum, knowing what he means.

His thumb lazily traces the line of my jaw. “...If… at any point, you’re not comfortable… we can leave. No explanations.”