The abuse at Haven is etched deep. Memories root themselves in strange places. I’ve tried to use soft, elegant nesting blankets but they make me nauseous.
My Alphas never made it about anything except my comfort. Their only concern is what soothes me. So, we returned to what feels right. Throw rugs with frayed edges, couch cushions that remember the shape of my body, a worn knit blanket from the Center’s lost and found. Maybe other people nest in luxury, but for me, healing is found in the humble, the ordinary made sacred by how safe I feel inside it.
Every time I wrap myself in one of those throw rugs, my Omega settles, tension unwinding from my chest. It’s a small rebellion against the way I was hurt. A gentle act of choosing what feels good instead of what looks perfect.
I have help here too. Dr. Maverick handles my lingering injuries. The Center’s psychologist, Dr. Eleni Sawyer, has become a lighthouse on the rocky shore of my healing, guiding me back each time old terror threatens to drag me under.
Jax jokes that the place is practically a commune, but we all know why we haven’t rushed to leave. These halls have become a waystation in the slow process of my mending.
We dream forward, though. We drive the city outskirts some weekends, Gabriel and Jax arguing over floorplans and kitchens and how many dogs we’ll need. There’s a house I keep coming back to in my mind, tucked beside the botanical garden of an outlying suburb. The sun pours through wide windows, and there’s not a hint of a nest anywhere in sight. I like that best. No more dens to hide in. Only space and light.
I work beside Skylar these days. Both of us are marked by Hardwick, but both of us are somehow still here. We help new arrivals adjust, show them how to breathe past panic and let the days grow softer. There’s so much healing left to do inside me; inside all of us. But I’ve learned that helping others is its own kind of healing, a way to move forward without erasing or denying anything that came before.
Sophie, Zane's sister, is one of the fiercest Omegas I’ve ever known. She moves through the Center with her sleeves rolled up and a sharp, reassuring confidence. Sophie has done as much to heal me as anyone. Her strength is quiet, practical, full of relentless hope. She and Mira run the Omega Healing Center with seamless, compassionate authority, making sure every hard story is met with empathy instead of pity.
I’m proud to be a part of it. To stand beside women like them, rebuilding a world meant to break us.
My heart fractures a little every time I see Aubrey, the Omega I will never give up on. Some days he barely moves. He stays curled in the corner of the rec room, knees hugged to his chest, gaze somewhere beyond our world. I spend days just sitting with him, reading to him, so we can both catch up on the time stolen from us.
His pack tries to draw him out. A gentle word from Kevin, a steadying palm from Lex, a question from Ezra that’s never expected to be answered. They never let him be alone, but there has been no breakthrough. Some wounds run too deep for love to reach.
Maybe one day, Aubrey will find his way back. Maybe the damage is too much, and this silent male in a borrowed chair is all that remains, but healing isn’t logical. It’s slow, and uncertain, and sometimes it simply means holding space and refusing to look away.
Emma slips beside me as Adrian gives the final details to the reporters. My pulse is a storm in my chest, and I rub my sweaty palms on the expensive fabric of my designer skirt. She holds my hand, both of us trying to reassure the other.
"Are we sure about this?" I whisper. Doubt eats at the edge of my resolve.
Her serious gaze meets mine. "You know we are. We’ve got this, Leah."
I know we do. We stayed up half the night planning what to say, but nerves remain. If we don’t give the world details of what we went through, it will become just a headline. Everyone must know, if we want real, lasting change.
And we do. We will not stop until there is equality for all.
We owe this to every Omega, male and female, who will come after us. Every boy and girl still in the dark. Every hope that could die in secrecy. We’re doing this because monsters like Wallace are still out there. Because Omegas like Esperence, little Espie, are still missing. And we’re going to find them.
We’re dragging everything into the open and forcing the world to look. We’re not just telling our story, we’re fighting for every right that was stolen, every shred of personhood that was stripped away. We’re here to end the slow, systematic ownership of an entire subsection of society and rip it out by the roots.
Jax sends reassurance through the bond. Ronan’s presence is a shield and Gabriel’s bright, anchoring rhythm hums with ferocious encouragement and silent pride. My Alphas are a fortress around me.
Emma and I share one last look, then together step forward into the light as Adrian, Cole, and Zane leave the podium. My heart is pounding sohard I think it might break free from my chest, but I keep walking, shoulder pressed to Emma’s, joining Mira as she straightens, her presence absolute and unwavering.
The room quiets. People are listening. It’s time.
Together, we tell our story.
.
