Page 49 of Omega in Love
I look down at my hands, still faintly shimmering from the final outfit's metallic body paint, tiny flecks catching the passing streetlights. These hands were tied once. Caged. Bloodied. Not anymore. Now they create, they build, they reach for what they want.
"Ready to go home?" Dante asks beside me, his voice low and warm like cedarwood smoke, green eyes searching my face with that quiet intensity that misses nothing.
I meet his eyes, finding concern and something deeper there, then glance at Hero across from me, his hazel eyes watchful beneath those dark curls, and Levi beside him, both watching me with pride simmering just below the surface of their carefully neutral expressions.
"No," I say softly, surprising even myself with the steadiness in my voice. "Not yet."
They tilt their heads in silent question, an almost choreographed movement that would make me smile under different circumstances.
"First. . ." I take a breath, feeling something resolute and fierce unfurling in my chest. "Let's make sure the man who hurt us never gets the chance to do it again."
The SUV glides into the night, engine purring beneath us, and for the first time in a long time, I feel completely in control of where I'm headed.
Chapter 22
Brookes
Charlotte is waiting for us at the penthouse, a champagne bucket already chilling beside a platter of strawberries and chocolate dipped in gold-flecked ganache. She launches herself at me the moment I step through the door, her arms wrapping around me like a vice, her familiar perfume enveloping me before I even have time to set down my bag.
"You were magnificent," she whispers fiercely in my ear, her fingers digging into the fabric of my shirt. "Absolutely magnificent. The way you held your ground up there, God, Brookes."
I hug her back just as hard, burying my face in her shoulder for a brief moment. She smells like home, like safety and friendship and all the years we've survived together, through dingy apartments with leaking ceilings, through nights of Chinese take-out and our favorite movies, through the aftermath when they found me broken and bleeding. "Thanks for being there. I couldn't have done it without seeing your face on the sidelines."
She pulls back, hands still on my shoulders as she studies my face with that laser-focused gaze that's gotten us both throughhell and back. Her eyes catalog every micro expression, every hint of tension around my eyes. "How are you feeling? And don't bullshit me, Brookes Daniels. I want the real answer, not the one you've been rehearsing for the cameras."
I can sense my three Alphas moving around us, giving us space while staying close. Dante checks the balcony doors, Hero scans the room with practiced efficiency, and Levi positions himself near the entrance. That's how they always are, present but not hovering, protective but never suffocating. They've learned my rhythms, when to step in and when to fade back.
"I'm okay," I say, and mean it, even as exhaustion settles into my bones like an old friend. "Better than okay, actually. That protester was?—"
"Already being handled," Charlotte cuts in, her expression hardening into something dangerous, the look she gets when someone threatens what's hers. "Josiah has people on it. They're tracing connections, checking social media accounts, following money trails, seeing if it leads back to Blaine's inner circle or if it was just another random bigot with a sign."
I nod, not surprised. Since the trial began, the senator's supporters have been getting more desperate, more vocal, more willing to cross lines. Security measures have doubled, then tripled around the courthouse. The man who once seemed untouchable, who graced magazine covers and shook hands with presidents, is now facing decades behind bars for trafficking and assault. His empire is crumbling brick by brick, and people like us, the ones he hurt, the ones who survived, the ones who lived to tell the tale are the reason why. Our voices, once silenced, now echo through marble halls of justice.
"Come sit," she says, leading me to the suite's plush sofa. "You've been on your feet for hours."
I sink into it gratefully, kicking off my shoes. Levi appears with a glass of water before I can even think to ask, and Herodrapes a soft throw over my lap. Little gestures that would have seemed suffocating from anyone else but from them feel like being wrapped in care.
"You know you don't have to be at the courthouse tomorrow," Charlotte says carefully. "Your testimony is already on record."
I watch as Dante pours champagne for everyone else in the room. "I want to be there."
"Brookes—"
"I need to be there," I clarify, accepting the flute Dante hands me. "I need to see his face when the verdict comes in."
Charlotte studies me for a long moment, then nods. "Okay. But we move as a unit. No separating, no solo bathroom breaks, nothing."
"Yes, General," I salute with my glass before taking a sip. The champagne fizzes on my tongue, bright and celebratory.
"I mean it," she insists, but there's a small smile playing at the corner of her mouth. "I didn't drag your ass out of hell just to have you wander off and get ambushed by some Blaine loyalist with a grudge."
I roll my eyes, but the fond smile I give her is genuine. "As if these three would let me out of their sight for even a second." I gesture to my Alphas, who've taken up their usual positions around the room, Dante by the window, Hero near the door, Levi perched on the arm of the sofa beside me.
"Speaking of which," Charlotte's gaze darts between the four of us, mischief sparking in her eyes. "So, do I call you Pack Daniels now?"
Heat creeps up my neck, spreading across my cheeks like wildfire. "Charlotte." My tone carries a warning, but she's known me too long to be deterred.
"What? I'm just asking as your friend and advocate. I mean, you're a pack now. Packs need a name," she shrugsteasingly, swirling the champagne in her glass with deliberate nonchalance. "It's a legitimate question. For legal purposes, of course."
