Page 37 of Omega in Love
"Morning, boys," Charlotte greets, eyebrows lifting knowingly. "I trust my bestie is still sleeping like the diva he is, after what I'm sure was a very. . .restful night." Her knowing smile makes it clear she's picked up on exactly what's been happening.
I settle into my chair, laptop propped on the coffee table, trying not to look too pleased with myself. "Like a rock. But we don't need his majesty to talk strategy. He trusts whatever decisions we make regarding his safety." I run a hand over my freshly shaved head, still feeling the phantom touch of Brookes’ fingers there from earlier this morning.
"Good," Josiah cuts in, his video feed appearing beside Charlotte's. He's in his tech cave, the blue glow of multiple screens illuminating the dark circles under his eyes. The man never sleeps. With Pack Hudson's current workload, he probably can't afford to. Three empty energy drink cans are visible in the corner of his screen, and his fingers never stop moving across keyboards even as he speaks.
From somewhere in Teagan's office, Beaux's gravelly voice interjects, "We're not half-assing this. If we do it, it's a full operation. Nothing less for our boy." The protective edge in his voice reminds me why I've always respected him, he treats everyone under his protection like family.
Charlotte smirks in his direction before turning her attention back to me, folding her hands under her chin. Her eyes soften with genuine concern. "Here's the deal. Brookes needs to see me in the audience. I don't need to be backstage or hovering like a mother hen. I just need him to know I'm there, supporting him. He needs to know someone who loves him is watching." The slight tremble in her voice betrays how much she's missed him.
Dante hums thoughtfully from his position by the window. "Understood. You'll be seated front row, center-right. We've arranged it with Brookes’ agent, Gregory. It's just enough of an angle that he'll catch your eye coming off the runway." His precision, as always, is impeccable. He's already mapped every inch of that venue in his mind.
Hero leans forward beside me, his sandalwood scent mingling with mine. "We'll be backstage. I've secured badge clearances for additional security. Charlotte, your pack will be positioned throughout the audience—natural but strategically balanced. We've got sight lines covered from every angle." His calm confidence settles something in my chest.
"Surveillance will be aerial and static," Josiah adds, typing furiously as he speaks. "Drones above the venue, perimeter blockers for signal disruption. I'll have a mobile command van two blocks south with real-time facial recognition running against our watch list. The key is for Brookes to know security is there without having to see it, unless something goes sideways." He takes a quick swig from his fourth energy drink.
Moses' voice comes from behind Charlotte, deep and authoritative. "I'm bringing Blaine's chatter threads to the front burner. The Senator's hearing is the same week. Honestly, it couldn't have come at a worse time. The press is already planning to camp out, and there will be cameras everywhere. We're monitoring all social channels for potential threats."
My stomach tightens, and I feel my protective instincts flaring. "We're going to walk him straight into a hornet's nest." The thought of Brookes surrounded by flashing cameras and shouted questions makes my hands curl into fists on my thighs.
"Correction," Hero says smoothly, placing a calming hand on my arm, "we're going to walk him through it. And he's not walking alone." The quiet certainty in his voice grounds me immediately.
Beaux appears behind Charlotte, resting a broad hand on her shoulder. She leans into his touch as he speaks, his expression fierce. "We'll have an additional team on the ground. Nobody gets close unless cleared. If necessary, we'll pull an extract plan through the service hall. One word from any of you and we pivot. We'll have three vehicles positioned for immediate extraction to our penthouse." The thoroughness is reassuring.
Charlotte's gaze softens, but her tone remains steel. "That's what we'll do. Whatever it takes to make sure Brookie is safe. He's not just walking a runway. This is his rebirth. He has to feel secure. Protected. Seen." Her fingers tap nervously on the desk, betraying her worry despite her confident words.
A beat of silence follows before Dante speaks, his voice low but certain. "I'll brief him personally. Make sure he knows exactly what to expect. No surprises, no unexpected moments. He'll be prepared for every contingency."
Hero's hand squeezes my shoulder reassuringly. "And we'll flank him before, during, and after. He won't be alone for a second." He pauses, his eyes meeting mine briefly, a silent communication passing between us. "He's not just an asset to us."
I glance up at him, knowing that while Brookes has likely told Charlotte about us, we've yet to declare he's our pack to her directly. The weight of what we're about to acknowledge settles my chest, warm and right.
"He's our heart," Hero finishes, voice steady and unapologetic.
Charlotte stares at us for a moment, something unreadable passing over her expression. The general fades, replaced by the protective sister. Her eyes narrow not in suspicion but in quiet observation, scanning each of our faces carefully, measuring our sincerity, our commitment.
Then she exhales, a faint smile touching her lips, relief evident in the softening of her shoulders. "And that's as it should be. See you soon." Her eyes shine with what might be tears, but her smile is genuine.
She signs off with a wave before the screen goes dark, leaving us with the weight of her approval and the responsibility it carries.
"We have a few weeks to prepare," Hero says, knocking his fist against the desk with that quiet intensity that always commands attention. "Let's leave no stone unturned. We make sure nothing goes wrong. He is our mission, our number one. Always." He exits the office with that silent grace of his, his footsteps fading down the hall like whispers against the hardwood.
"I'll go wake Brookes," Dante says as he leaves the room, his voice carrying that tender edge it only gets when he speaks about our Omega.
I sit for a long moment, staring at my reflection in the blank screen, seeing the determination etched into my own features. The weight of responsibility settles comfortably across my broad shoulders. A weight I've chosen, one I'd carry forever if it means keeping him safe. Around me, the house stirs or rather, Brookes stirs. I can hear his soft laughter floating down the hallway like music, mingling with Dante's deeper tones, and the gentle hum of the kettle preparing his morning tea, chamomile with honey, his favorite when he's feeling anxious.
This is the life we're building together, brick by careful brick, day by patient day. The safe haven we've created from the ground up. I refuse to let it slip through my fingers because of a setback, because of fear, because of anything. My hands curl into fists on my thighs, resolve hardening in my chest like armor.
We've got the logistics, every route mapped, every contingency planned for.
We've got the coverage, three bodies between him and any threat, three hearts beating in sync with his.
Now we just have to hold the line, stand firm and unwavering, so the world sees not a broken boy returning to the light, but the man he's always been beneath the scars and shadows. The one who laughs like sunshine breaking through clouds, who smells of roses even when he's afraid, whose courage outweighs his fear every single day.
Ours. Our Omega. Our center. Our everything.
Chapter 17
Dante
