“Go,” Miles tells her, already collecting towels from the cabinet. “We’ll be done shortly.”
She nods and slips out, the door closing softly behind her. The moment she’s gone, the temperature in the room seems to drop ten degrees, the companionable atmosphere evaporating.
“She’s further along than she’s admitting,” Caleb says quietly, all humor gone from his voice. “Those blockers won’t last another day.”
“I’m aware,” I snap, grabbing a towel and attacking the puddle with more force than necessary.
“What’s the plan, Cole?” he asks, actually serious for once. “When her heat hits fully. What then?”
“That’s her decision,” I say firmly. “Not ours.”
“Noble,” Caleb observes, not sounding convinced. “But practical? Three Alphas, one Omega in heat, a tropical storm keeping us trapped together? That’s a powder keg with a very short fuse.”
“We’re not animals,” I hiss, keeping my voice low so Elle won’t overhear from the other room. “We can control ourselves.”
“Can we?” Caleb challenges, eyes serious despite his casual tone. “Can you? Because I’ve seen how you look at her, Cole. It’s not just about her heat.”
I straighten, towel clutched in my fist. “Watch yourself, Rios.”
“He’s right,” Miles interjects, his voice calm and measured as always. “We need a contingency plan. For her safety as much as anything.”
“I’ll handle it,” I insist. “I’ll make sure she’s safe.”
“From us?” Caleb asks, eyebrow raised. “Or from yourself?”
The question hits too close to home, piercing the armor of control I’ve built around myself. Because he’s right. I’m not worried about Miles or Caleb, not really.
I’m worried about myself.
About the way Elle’s laugh makes something warm unfurl in my chest. About how my first instinct upon learning of her fading blockers wasn’t professional concern but primal possession. About how desperately I want to be the one she turns to when her heat hits fully.
“All of us,” I say finally. “From all of us.”
Miles nods, accepting this. Caleb looks less convinced but doesn’t push further. We finish cleaning in silence, each lost in our own thoughts.
When we emerge from the bathroom, the bedroom is empty. Elle has retreated to the living room as suggested. The three of us exit her room together, an unspoken truce in effect.
In the hallway, Miles pauses. “She’s vulnerable,” he says quietly. “But not weak. Remember that.”
With that cryptic statement, he walks away, leaving Caleb and me standing awkwardly in the corridor.
“For what it’s worth,” Caleb says after a moment, “I think she’d choose you.”
I look at him sharply, searching for the joke, the angle, the manipulation. But for once, his amber eyes are serious, his usual smirk absent.
“This isn’t about choosing,” I say firmly.
“Everything’s about choosing, Cole,” he replies, running a hand through his still-damp hair. “Life’s one big series of choices. And if she has to make one...” He shrugs. “Just saying, my money’s on you.”
He walks away before I can respond, leaving me alone with water dripping from my clothes and a strange, unsettled feeling in my chest.
I told Caleb this isn’t about choosing. But as I head to my room to change into dry clothes, I can’t help wondering—if it was about choosing, if Elle did have to choose one of us to help her through her heat, would she choose me?
And more disturbingly, would I want her to?
The answer to both questions terrifies me more than I care to admit.
nine
