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Ash snorts. “You? You’d tell them we were running a private alpha-on-omega wrestling retreat for tax purposes.”

Kai grins. “Not a bad pitch, actually.”

Behind us, Lucian locks down the control panel with one final tap. The house groans again.

“Containment secure,” he mutters, mostly to himself.

“Great,” I whisper, pressing my face into Theo’s neck. “Now all we need is a fire drill, an OMB raid, and Lexi to show up.”

“You forgot alien invasion,” Kai adds helpfully. “But don’t worry, Bambi - we’ve got you.”

I tremble in Theo’s arms, surrounded by four alphas with more tension than a family dinner during mating season, and I can’t decide if I’m safer than ever… or completely, irrevocably screwed.

Theo’s head dips lower as he follows Lucian through the hall. It's more of an instinctual reflex than anything else, I think, and his lips brush my temple, then lower, followed by a slow, instinctive drag of his nose over my skin.

“You gonna huff the rest of her heat out like a candle?” Kai snarks.

But it's not enough.

Theo’s scent is helping, but the ache is building again, deeper now.

I try to breathe. Try to be still.

It’s not working.

I need relief. I need space.

I need -

“Take me to the fucking room,” I whisper. “Please.”

The storm is back.

And this house is about to hold it.

Chapter Fourteen

Rhea

Lucian turns without a word and starts down the main hall, his footsteps sharp and sure against the polished stone floor.

Theo carries me close, arms solid and cradling me like I’m a priceless antique with anger issues.

I’m not. I’m justburning.

My nails curl into his shirt. I’m trying not to grind down on him again like some kind of possessed lap dancer. Trying not to let the scent of all of them drag me under like a weighted blanket soaked in lust.

But it’s getting harder.

The hall twists deeper into the estate like the set of a villain’s lair. The walls turn matte-black and soundproof, the lights get lower, the air gets colder.

And the vibe isunquestionablydungeon chic.

Lucian stops in front of a massive steel-plated door that looks like it could withstand a small war. I watch as he presses his palm to a square panel.

There's a beep. Then a hiss.

A seam splits the door like the world's least subtle metaphor, and it glides open on whisper-smooth hydraulics.

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