Just like there’s no going back from what we’ve discovered about Dr. Holly Chang. Whatever happens next, everything has changed. For all of us.
As the truck crawls down the mountain through the blinding snow, I can’t shake the feeling that the real storm has been brewing since the moment Holly arrived in Heat Mountain. That somehow, despite all my efforts to maintain distance and control, I’ve been drawn into something I never expected.
Something that feels disturbingly like fate.
THIRTEEN
HOLLY
The truck slowsas we approach what can only be described as a mountain chalet. The place is enormous, picturesque and not anything like where I would expect someone as goofy and self-effacing as Kai to live. Through the swirling snow, I catch glimpses of stonework and massive windows glowing with warm light. This can’t be right. I expected a cabin—something rustic and modest—not whatever architectural showcase is materializing before us.
“Home sweet home,” Kai announces from the back seat, leaning forward between Grayson and Dr. Klinkhart. “At least until this blizzard chills out.”
My stomach clenches. The fever burning under my skin makes it hard to focus, but even through the haze of my impending heat, I recognize that I’m completely out of my element. This place looks like something from a luxury real estate Pinterest board—the kind my mother would peruse and sigh over, while also insisting that only a very shallow person would be impressed by it.
Grayson parks near the front entrance, the truck’s headlights illuminating a meticulously maintained driveway that someonehas already cleared of snow. The engine cuts off, and sudden silence fills the cab. Nobody moves.
“We should get inside before the snow gets worse,” Dr. Klinkhart finally says, his clinical tone doing little to mask the tension I feel radiating from him.
I nod, unable to form words. My throat feels tight, and not just from the symptoms of heat withdrawal. This whole situation—being discovered, being vulnerable, being dependent on the mercy of three alphas I barely know—it’s everything I’ve spent my life avoiding.
My parents would be so disappointed.
The thought slices through me as I push open the door and step out into the biting cold. The frigid air provides momentary relief from my fever, but it’s short-lived. My legs tremble slightly as I stand, and I force myself to straighten my spine. I will not show weakness. I will not be the helpless omega they seem to expect me to be.
Kai bounds past me up the stairs to the front door, fishing keys from his pocket.
“Welcome to my humble abode!” he calls back with a grin that somehow eases the knot in my chest slightly.
There’s nothing humble about this place. The exterior is a masterful blend of rustic mountain charm and modern architectural precision. Stone and timber frame enormous windows, and multiple balconies jut out from the second floor.
I feel Dr. Klinkhart’s presence behind me, not touching but close enough that I can sense his body heat. “Are you okay to walk?” he asks quietly.
“I’m fine,” I reply automatically, the words coming out sharper than intended. I soften my tone. “Thank you, but I can manage.”
Grayson appears at my other side, silently holding out my duffel bag. I take it with a nod of thanks, appreciating boththat he recognizes that I stubbornly want to carry my bag and immediately steps back to keep a careful distance between us once it’s clear I’m not going to fall over. His eyes, visible above his ever-present black skull bandana, watch me with an intensity that should feel intrusive but somehow doesn’t.
We follow Kai into an entryway that could comfortably fit my entire apartment back home. Vaulted ceilings soar overhead, and a chandelier made of antlers casts a warm glow over polished hardwood floors.
“So,” Kai says, clapping his hands together, “Holly can stay in the heat suite. It’s fully stocked and has its own bathroom, plus it locks from the inside, so?—“
“The what?” Dr. Klinkhart interrupts, one eyebrow raised.
“Heat suite?” Grayson repeats.
Kai’s confident demeanor falters for the first time since I’ve met him. A flush creeps up his neck as he shrugs, trying to reclaim his usual nonchalance.
“It’s just a guest room with some...accommodations,” he mumbles, suddenly finding his boots fascinating. “You know, in case...”
He trails off, and I watch with fascination as the atmosphere between the three men shifts. Dr. Klinkhart looks at Grayson, who shakes his head slightly. There’s an entire conversation happening without words, and I’m not privy to its meaning.
“This way,” Kai says, recovering his composure and gesturing toward a hallway.
We move through what must be the main living area, and I can’t help but stare. The space is almost comically large, with a stone fireplace you could park a car in dominating one wall. Floor-to-ceiling windows frame the snowstorm outside, making it feel like we’re watching a movie rather than experiencing actual weather. Plush leather furniture is arrangedin conversational groupings, and a massive flat-screen TV hangs above the fireplace.
Every detail screams wealth in a way that makes my skin itch. Growing up, luxury meant having enough money to live in a district with good public schools and maybe the occasional indulgence of a family road trip vacation to the beach. My parents worked themselves to exhaustion to put me through college, to give me opportunities they never had. And now I’m standing in a multimillion-dollar home, about to go into heat in front of three alphas, my carefully constructed life crumbling around me.
Focus, Holly. You can only handle one existential crisis at a time.
