Page 18 of Omega in Love
"What do you mean?" I ask, though part of me already knows.
"I put you, Levi, and Hero on this job because none of you were pack-affiliated. None of you had outside bonds, or emotional entanglements. I needed a detail that could work as one seamless unit." There's a pause, weighted with assessment. "But I'm not blind. I’ve been observing the way you three moved around him. Well, from afar when you're caught like today oncamera. The synchronicity, the protective formation that wasn't just tactical. You're forming something."
I glance inside again through the sliding glass door, unable to help myself. The living room is bathed in the soft glow the setting sun, creating a sanctuary against the encroaching night. Levi's saying something quiet, his large hands gesturing gently in that way they do when he's trying to coax a smile. Whatever he's said makes Brookes roll his eyes dramatically and smack his shoulder with a throw pillow, the gesture playful and unguarded. His laughter is genuine, unmanufactured, slipping through the air like a song meant for only us. It reminds me of early morning desert light, rare, precious, and worth protecting at all costs. The kind of beauty you'd stand guard over until your legs gave out.
"Yeah," I say, my voice rougher than intended. "We are."
Dez hums, a sound that contains multitudes of understanding. There's a knowing edge to it that makes me wonder just how much he's pieced together from surveillance footage and reports. How transparent we've been without realizing it.
"So, what I'm hearing is: if Brookes chooses you, chooses all three of you, then this isn't going to be just another contract." His voice is carefully neutral, but I catch the subtle shift in his tone, he's not just my boss anymore. He's speaking as someone who understands what it means when duty transforms into something bone-deep and irreversible.
"No," I say firmly. The word feels like a vow, solid and unwavering. It resonates in my chest, an admission I've been holding back for months. "It isn't."
My gaze drifts back to the house, to where I can see Brookes gesturing animatedly at something Levi's said. The rose-scent of him lingers even out here, familiar now as my own heartbeat.
"Then you better have that conversation soon," Dez warns. "Because if it does go that way, the lines between security andbond mate get real blurry. You won't just be protecting him. You'll be his pack. That comes with different expectations and a different kind of risk." There's weight behind his words, the kind that comes from experience, not just protocol.
"I know," I reply. I've spent enough nights lying awake thinking about it, mapping out every possibility, every potential consequence. Drawing mental diagrams of how we'd need to restructure our security approach, our living arrangements, our entire lives. Calculating the danger that would come from being not just his shields, but his heart. "We all do."
"And for what it's worth. . ." Dez's voice softens, just a touch. It's rare enough that I straighten, focus sharpening. "I hope he chooses you. All of you. The way the man looks at you three when he thinks no one's watching—" He pauses. "Well, let's just say I've seen enough to know something real when I see it."
The call ends, and I'm left staring into the house, at the image of them. Brookes and Levi. They fit together, despite their differences, despite everything. Like puzzle pieces that shouldn't match but somehow create something complete.
I slip my phone into my pocket and take a long breath before heading back inside. The scent of ocean air follows me inside mingling with the lingering notes of Brookes’ rose fragrance permeates every corner of this house now.
Brookes is just standing from the couch, murmuring something to Levi. His shirt clings damp to his slender frame, ocean salt still crusted at the hem, marking the line where the waves had lapped against him during the photo shoot. He catches my eye, a tired little smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. I smile back, because yeah, I'm gone for this man.
"I'm gonna rinse all this off," he says, his voice carrying a soft rasp of exhaustion. "Feel like I've still got sand in places it shouldn't be." His fingers brush absently against his collarbone, drawing my attention to the delicate line of his neck.
Levi huffs a soft laugh, but there's still something tight in his expression, tension visible in the set of his shoulders. The aftershock of today's craziness.
Hero leans back into the doorway as Brookes passes him, a hand brushing lightly over Brookes’ shoulder in wordless acknowledgment. It's a gesture so small most wouldn't notice, but I catch the way Brookes leans into it for just a fraction of a second, seeking that reassurance. We all watch him disappear down the hall, footsteps soft against the wood floors, the echo of his presence lingering in the space he leaves behind.
Then it's just us. Three Alphas with a conversation that can no longer wait.
Levi's perched on the arm of the couch, shoulders tense, arms folded across his broad chest. The fabric of his shirt stretched tight across his muscles, betraying the anxiety he's trying to contain. Hero claims the single chair near the window, eyes cutting to me with that quiet intensity of his. Outside, the California sunset paints the sky orange and purple, casting long shadows across the hardwood floors of Brookes’ living room.
I sit on the edge of the sofa, feeling the weight of what's about to happen settle around us like gravity. The leather creaks beneath me, somehow amplifying the silence between us. My hands rest on my knees, steady despite the storm brewing inside me.
Then I start talking.
"Dez saw the video."
That's all it takes.
Levi lets out a sharp exhale through his nose, the sound cutting through the quiet like a knife. His dimples disappear as his expression tightens. Hero's jaw ticks, just once, a tell I've come to recognize as his version of alarm. His hazel eyes narrow slightly, ready for the bomb drop and the possible fall out.
"He said what we're doing, this thing with Brookes, if it goes beyond protection, it has to be his choice. But he also said. . ." I pause, letting the weight of it settle, running my palm over my buzz cut. "He said he pulled us together for a reason. Because none of us were in a pack."
Hero raises a brow, the small gesture speaking volumes from him. His fingers tap once against the armrest. "He was playing matchmaker?"
I shrug. "Not exactly. But he thought we might become something. Now he's asking if what we're becoming. . .includes Brookes." The words hang in the air between us, charged with possibility and complication.
Silence stretches for a beat, filled with the distant hum of the air conditioner and the faint sound of running water from the bathroom where Brookes is showering.
Levi shifts, the couch arm creaking beneath his weight, voice low and rich with certainty. "I knew the second he let me carry him the first time. Months ago, when the paparazzi cornered him during his therapy visit. When he didn't flinch. When he just held onto me." His gaze drops to his hands, large and powerful yet gentle when they touch Brookes, like he can still feel the tremble of Brookes’ fingers there. "That's not something I walk away from. Not after seeing how much trust that took for him."
Hero nods once, slow and deliberate. His fingers stop their tapping. "He matters to me." He doesn't elaborate, because Hero doesn't need to. His economy of words has always said more than paragraphs could. The way his eyes soften when he says it tells the rest of the story. "But this doesn't work unless we're all in. Completely."
