"We'll follow your lead on this," says Thane. "You have our word."
"All of us," Plague adds, shooting Whiskey a look.
Whiskey raises his hands in surrender. "I get it, I get it. No unauthorized alpha bullshit. Scout's honor. But if Kelly ever actually tries to come here to find you, all bets are off." He looks to me. "Is that fair?"
I nod. "That's fair."
"So it's settled," Thane says. "Wraith and Ivy stay in the loft. We keep Valek away from any sign that there's an omega here." He checks his watch. "We have less than two hours to make this happen."
The sudden sound of the doorbell makes us all jump.
"Shit," Thane mutters. "That'll be the furniture delivery. Then the contractors are coming to fix the living room we destroyed." He runs a hand through his shaggy dark hair. "We need to move fast."
"I'll help with the deliveries," I say, standing up. When everyone stares at me, I add, "What? I can at least be useful."
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Plague asks. "If Valek arrives early..."
"He won't," Thane says confidently. "I told Coach he needs to give me a ten-minute warning or my brother's going to take issue with it." His lips quirk into a slight smile.
Wraith huffs a growl in agreement.
"Then let me help," I insist. "I'm guessing you guys only have experiencedestroyinga living room, not arranging it."
The sheepish looks confirm my suspicion.
"I—we appreciate your help if that's something you want to do," Thane says, his dark eyes studying me. It's strange to see someone so powerful looking uncertain. "The loft door has to be our first priority, though. We need to make sure it's secure before Valek arrives."
I nod, understanding the urgency. It feels surreal discussing how to hide myself from a potential threat while sitting around a kitchen table eating breakfast, like we're planning a surprise party instead of orchestrating my disappearance.
"We should bolt it from the inside," Plague adds. "That way it will be structurally sound. The bolts need to be installed on the loft side, preferably with planks over it for good measure."
Thane glances at Wraith. "Would you be alright with me going up to the loft to install the bolts?" he asks carefully.
But Wraith doesn't hesitate. He nods right away.
"I'll need to go up too," Plague says. "I have more experience with structural reinforcement. We'll need to ensure it can't be detected or accidentally discovered."
Wraith shifts slightly in his chair, his thigh pressing more firmly against mine beneath the table. I glance up at him, catching the question in his eyes. But he nods at that, too.
"Then it's settled," Thane says, rising from his chair. "Plague and I will secure the loft entrance. Whiskey, you help Ivy with the deliveries, but—" his voice drops, taking on an edge that makes Whiskey straighten, "—remember what we discussed. Boundaries."
Wraith stands too, his massive presence suddenly filling the kitchen. He signs something to Thane.
"I know," Thane responds. "You're staying with her. That's a given. I wasn't suggesting otherwise." He hesitates, glancing between Wraith and Whiskey. "Just try not to put any more holes in the walls."
Whiskey's grin doesn't falter, but his eyes sharpen with understanding. "Crystal clear," he says, going to the door to let the delivery service in and sign paperwork.
I watch as Thane and Plague gather tools from a nearby closet, preparing to seal up the loft door. The reality of what's happening starts to sink in. I'm about to be literally locked away in a secret room to hide from an alpha who might expose my location to my abusive ex. It's like something out of a gothic story, except I'm not some helpless heroine waiting to be rescued. I'm choosing this.
As they head for the stairs, Whiskey bounds back into the kitchen, practically vibrating with energy. "You ready to interior design the shit out of this place?" he asks me.
I roll my eyes, but I can't help but smile at his enthusiasm even though I clobbered him with a hockey stick just twelve hours ago. "Yeah. It'll give me something to do."
We head to the front door where contractors are bringing in tools and two burly men are unloading a truck filled with furniture. Whiskey starts directing them and helping with the heavier stuff, pointing to where each box and piece should go until I can figure out a layout. I'm impressed by how efficiently he manages the process, despite his earlier antics in the kitchen.
"Where do you want the sectional?" one of the delivery men asks, gesturing to a massive L-shaped couch.
I study the living room, trying to envision the best layout. "Let's put it against that wall," I say, pointing. "It'll open up the space more."
