Page 38 of Dance Omega Dance

I don't know how long he held me, one hand cradling the back of my head while the other rubbed soothing circles down my spine; deep purrs echoing through his chest. Long enough for the sharpest edges of my terror to dull, for my breathing to even out, and for my tears to slow. Long enough for me to gather the tattered remains of my courage.

Slowly, I uncurled from his embrace, though I didn't step out of the circle of his arms. Zach and Anders had drawn closer, radiating protective concern mixed with cautious relief. I met each of their gazes, seeing my pained understanding mirrored there.

I couldn't keep doing this to them or myself. They deserved better than half-truths and evasions. They deserved to know why the shadows never seemed to leave my eyes, why I shied away from any mention of my past. Why I jumped at sudden noises and flinched from certain touches.

Swallowing hard, I forced the words past the lump in my throat, my voice thready but determined.

"I need to tell you something."

WHEN WE ARRIVED ATthe penthouse, I perched on the edge of the living room couch, spine rigid and hands clasped in my lap to hide their trembling. Across from me, the alphas had arranged themselves in a loose semicircle. Anders on the low coffee table, knees almost brushing mine, Zach sat loosely on the plush rug, and Blake stood with his shoulder blades pressed to the wall, arms crossed over his broad chest.

Three pairs of eyes pinned me in place, their gazes sharp as claws and just as unrelenting. The tension rolled off them in waves. Tight jaws, clenched fists, a restless shifting of weight that betrayed the calm they tried so hard to wear. They didn’t touch me. Not yet. But their presence crowded the air, thick and heavy, like a storm waiting to break.

Each second dragged, stretching thin over the pounding in my ears. My hands wouldn’t stay still. Fingers coiling tight, nails digging into my skin as if the pain could ground me. Words tangled at the back of my throat; caught on old scars, I didn’t dare show. I swallowed hard, but it only made the fear worse.

A soft, broken whine slipped out before I could stop it.

Anders flinched like he’d been struck, his hands jerking toward me before freezing mid-reach. His scent spiked, the chaotic nature of flowing water as it threatened to drown me in its wake.

I clenched my jaw, forcing air through my teeth like it was the only way to stay upright. And when I finally spoke, the sound scraped out of me, thin and torn, barely more than a shadow of a voice.

"It happened when I was sixteen."

The words tore free before I could stop them. Ragged and breathless, splintered things that tasted like blood and ash on my tongue. I didn’t speak them so much as bled them out, a flood of memories I’d buried deep, too deep. But now they came clawing their way to the surface, sharp-edged and screaming.

I told them about the night the rogue alphas came.

Not told—no, Isawit again, felt it in my bones. The creak of floorboards right before the crash, wood shattering as the door exploded inward. Their silhouettes filled the frame, hulking and hungry, eyes gleaming like coals in the dark before they dragged me outside in nothing more than a nightie. Heat-slick musk rolled off them in waves. Predatory, choking. Turning the air thick and wrong. I could still taste it, coating the back of my throat like rot.

I was just a girl. Just an omega barely ripe.

My first heat had come like a curse.

I remembered crawling under the rusted skeleton of our old car, its belly caked in oil and dirt. Gravel carved into my skin, my knees and palms raw and stinging. I held my breath so long my chest screamed for air, but I didn’t dare make a sound. Not with my mother crying out. Not with that sound, thatwetsound, flesh giving under bone.

My father’s growl had been guttural, frantic. But it hadn’t stopped them. Nothing did.

Laughter, low and cruel, rippled through the house. Pleas turned to sobs. Sobs to silence. And the silence was worse.

I blinked hard, but their faces blurred anyway. Not the rogues.Them. My three alphas in front of me now. Theirhorror mirrored my own, but it didn’t matter. My vision twisted, doubled, their features swallowed by memories.

I saw my father stumble, jaw slack from a blow so violent his head snapped back like a rag doll. My mother’s face... Gods, hereyes. Locked on mine, even through the dark. Bright with terror. Burning with love.

“Run, baby.” Her lips moved in silence, painted with blood.

And then the crack, sharp and final, and the sound of her body hitting the earth like a sack of meat.

The sharp drag of breath hit my lungs like a slap, dragging me back from the edge, from blood and gravel and gunshot echoes. The present snapped into place, the air in the room thick and trembling.

They were still there. Still watching me.

Blake looked like he might tear the world apart with his bare hands. His lips peeled back in a snarl that didn’t belong on a man. It belonged to something wild and ancient. His chest rose and fell like he was barely keeping the beast in check, fingers twitching at his sides, hungry to crush. If someone had walked through that door, he wouldn’t have waited for a name... he’d have buried them.

Zach's half-smile had vanished. His mouth was pressed into a thin, hard line that brought out the sharp angles of his jaw. His scent had soured with rage, acrid and electric.

And Anders...

It was Anders who broke something in me.

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