He knocks gently on the door. "It's us. He's gone. You're safe now."
There's no response. Hunter tries the handle and finds it locked. A snarl tears across his face as he reaches up above the archway where we keep the spare key, a long pinpoint piece of brass that no one would find unless they were looking for it. With a quick twist, he opens the door to reveal Silas sitting in the bathtub with Amelia passed out against his chest, the water still running softly. Silas is running his fingers through her hair, purring low and constant to soothe her even in sleep.
He looks up at us, his dark eyes taking in our blood-covered state, and his expression shifts to something protective and worried.
"I know how much you need her right now," Silas says quietly, carefully shutting off the water with one hand while keeping Amelia secure with the other. "But I need you and Wyatt to go take a shower first. Get cleaned up. I have no idea what she'll do if she wakes up and sees you like this. She passed out about ten minutes ago—the adrenaline crash hit her hard. Let me get her back to her nest, then you can join us once you're clean."
Hunter looks like he wants to fight that directive, his need to see Amelia, to confirm she's safe with his own eyes, clearly warring with the logic of Silas's words. I grab his arm and pull him back gently.
"Let's end Amelia's heat on a good note, okay?" I say. "Silas is right. She doesn't need to see us covered in Vincent's blood. That's not the memory we want her to have."
Hunter's jaw clenches but he nods, letting me pull him back. Dylan is still standing in the living room, looking lost, his hands opening and closing like he doesn't know what to do with them.
"I'll feel better if I just hang out on the couch or something," Dylan says. "I can't... I need to..." He trails off, unable to articulate what he needs.
I manage a small smile despite everything. "The shock has temporarily suppressed her heat symptoms—we might have afew hours of reprieve before the next wave, or it might have ended this cycle early. Hard to say. We need to clean up a little bit, but I'm pretty sure by dinner we'll be eating all together. I think Amelia would benefit from having everyone here. Her pack and her family."
Dylan's expression softens with relief. "Fuck, yeah, okay. I'll come back in a few hours with the kids and Maddox. I'll probably pick something up for dinner too. Just... let me know how she is when she wakes up, okay?"
"She'll be the first one you call," I promise. "Actually, she'll probably want to call you herself. You know how she is."
"Yeah," Dylan says with a slight smile. "Yeah, I do."
He leaves, and I guide Hunter up the stairs toward my bathroom. We're both moving on autopilot, exhaustion starting to set in now that the immediate threat is gone. The shower is big enough for both of us, and we stand under the spray watching Vincent's blood swirl down the drain.
Hunter's hands are shaking as he scrubs at his skin, trying to remove every trace of what happened. "I wanted to kill him," he says quietly. "I wanted to keep stabbing until there was nothing left. Until he could never threaten her again."
"I know," I say, reaching for the shampoo. "I wanted that too. But Amelia wouldn't have recovered from that. She would have blamed herself, thought it was her fault we became killers. This way is better. He's alive, he's going to jail, and she didn't have to witness us committing murder."
"He'll get out eventually," Hunter says, his voice hollow. "They always do. And when he does—"
"We'll handle it," I interrupt firmly. "But right now, today, we won. He didn't get to her. She's safe. That's what matters."
We finish cleaning up in silence, both of us lost in our own thoughts. When we're finally clean and dressed in comfortableclothes, unable to be apart from Amelia any longer, we head toward Hunter's room where her nest is.
We pause at the doorway. Silas has gotten her settled in the nest, still wrapped in blankets, her hair damp from the tub. She's awake now, sitting up but looking small and fragile in a way that makes my chest ache.
Hunter clears his throat softly. "Can we come in?"
Her head snaps up, her eyes finding us immediately. For a moment she just stares, taking in our clean clothes, our clean skin, confirming we're really here and safe. Then her face crumples.
"Yes," she says, her voice breaking. "Yes, please. I need you. I need all of you."
We move into the nest immediately, Hunter on one side and me on the other, pulling her between us while Silas completes the circle at her back. She's trembling against us, her hands fisting in our shirts like she's afraid we'll disappear.
"I'm sorry," she whispers. "I'm so sorry. This is all my fault. If I hadn't—"
"Don't," Hunter interrupts firmly. "Don't you dare apologize for what he did. None of this is your fault. Not one single thing."
She nods against my chest, but I can feel the guilt radiating off her anyway. It's going to take time for her to really believe that, to accept that Vincent's actions are his own responsibility. But we have time now. We have safety. We have each other.
And Vincent will finally be where he belongs.
Behind bars.
Amelia
I wake up hours later, sandwiched between two very naked Alphas, Hunter and Wyatt's bodies radiating heat that makes the nest feel like a furnace. It's almost too warm, bordering on uncomfortable, but the weight of their arms around me is grounding in a way I desperately need right now. I'm not hot anymore, I realize with a mixture of relief and disappointment. My heat has definitely passed, the desperate burning need that consumed me for two days finally faded to something manageable.
