Her eyes flick between us, wary, weighing something unspoken before she gestures vaguely toward the living room. “In there. And don’t – don’t hover.”
“We won’t,” I promise, even as every cell in my body rebels. All Iwantis to hover. To watch her breathe. To scent every shift of her emotion and make damn sure she’s safe.
She nods once, stiffly, then turns away, heading toward the kitchen with slow, dragging steps. I watch her go, heart lodged in my throat. Her scent lingers in the hallway like a trail of grief and honey and heat. Wild. Open. Uncontrolled.
Tonight is going to test every inch of our restraint.
Blaise mutters low behind me, sharp and bitter. “We should’ve never left her.”
I don’t answer him, just glance over at Xar. “We’ll get her through tonight,” I say under my breath, the words meant only for him. A vow. “Everything can be sorted in the morning.”
Xar’s eyes stay locked on the space where she disappeared, something fractured and fierce glinting in them. “We have to,” he whispers back.
There’s no maybe. No middle ground.
Because even if she doesn’t know it yet?—
Even if she fights us every step of the way?—
She’s ours.
And she’s not facing any of this alone.
Not ever again.
BLAISE
The storm outside howls against the windows, rattling the panes with ferocity. Inside, the air feels heavy, the kind of stillness that comes before a power cut. I glance towards Eviana, curled up asleep on the sofa, her slight frame buried beneath a patchwork quilt and a couple of scratchy old blankets we’d scrounged up, alongside the soft pink one we sent to her. It makes me smile to see her using it, but I hate that this house isn’t full of soft comfortable things for my omega.
I’m surprised she even agreed to come into the lounge to be honest. When she stalked off to the kitchen, I thought she’d grab some food and then scurry away to her bedroom for the night, so I was shocked when she came back a short while later and offered all of us a drink. A peace offering.
She looks fragile now, her breathing steady but shallow. Her hand rests near her face, fingers twitching faintly, even in sleep. The adrenaline has finally gone and she’s crashed, but it’s hardly surprising considering everything she’s been through today.
Xar finishes stacking the firewood near the hearth, his movements precise and deliberate. Dane is across the room, fiddling with a lantern, testing it out in case of the possibility of the lights going out. Neither of them speaks, but their tension is palpable, vibrating through the room like a taut wire.
“I’ve sorted the porch roof,” I say, breaking the silence. “It should hold for now, though it’ll need a proper repair come spring.” My voice sounds gruff, even to my ears, but I can’t help it. The storm outside feels like nothing compared to the storm brewing in my chest. “Chickens are secure too. Coop’s reinforced, and they’ve got enough feed and straw to last. They’ll be fine.”
Xar nods, but his focus doesn’t shift from the flames in the hearth. Dane glances at me, his brow furrowed as he adjusts the lantern’s wick. “Good,” he says. “At least we won’t wake up to a scene fromTwisterout there.”
I huff a quiet laugh, but it’s short-lived. My gaze drifts back to Eviana, still bundled up on the sofa. Her face is pale, shadows carved beneath her eyes that even sleep doesn’t soften. She looks so damn exhausted. Not just physically – this is deeper than that. It’s like she’s carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders, and it’s grinding her down, piece by piece, and judging by the smudges under her eyes, she’s felt that way for some time now.
I hate it. My alpha is restless under my skin, demanding that I fix it, fix her, but I honestly don’t know where to start. I’m useless with omegas, and instincts can only do so much. Especially when said omega is as stubborn as a goat and refuses to let anyone help her.
“This place,” I mutter, shaking my head as I pace towards the window. The storm obscures most of the view, but I know what’s out there – the empty fields, the long, winding drive, the forest that seems to press in from every side. “It’s so isolated. Too fucking isolated if you ask me.”
Dane looks up from his lantern, frowning. “You’re worried about security.”
I nod, crossing my arms over my chest. “Yeah, I am. It’s a nightmare. The traps around the perimeter will help – they’re good, better than I expected for someone working alone. But they’re not enough. Not if someone really wants to get to her.”
“Traps?” Xar’s attention finally shifts, his voice sharp. “What other kind of traps?”
“Basic stuff, like we discovered the other day – tripwires, some sharp surprises for anyone getting too close.”
“I thought they were just around the entry to the house to keep us away.”
“No, they’re all around the land and by the looks of it, have been there for a while. She’s resourceful, I’ll give her that. But it’s still justherout here. No backup. No one to call if something goes wrong. Hell, the nearest neighbour’s what? Three miles away? And a fucking holiday let at that. Who knows who’ll be around in an emergency. I don’t like it.” My chest tightens just thinking about it. “This isn’t a home, not for an omega. It’s a fortress. And not a very good one.”
Xar’s jaw tightens, and I see the flicker of understanding in his eyes. “You think she’s been living like this the whole time?”