"I see you," I whispered, and I felt him shudder at the words, a tremor running through him like an earthquake. "I've always seen you, Leo. Even when I didn't want to."
He made a sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and pulled me against his chest, burying his face in my hair. His arms wrapped around me tight, like he was afraid I'd disappear if he let go, like I was the only thing keeping him anchored to the earth.
"Stay," he murmured into my hair, his voice breaking on the word. "Please, Red. Just... stay."
"I'm not going anywhere," I said, and for the first time since they'd taken me, I wasn't sure if I meant right now or forever. My arms tightened around him in response. We sat there for a long time, wrapped in the blanket and each other, watching the snow fall over the valley. He didn't try to kiss me. Didn't try to push for more. Just held me, his heartbeat steady against my cheek, his warmth seeping into my bones.
"You know what the worst part was?" he said eventually, his voice rough, muffled against my hair. "When you ran?"
"What?" I asked, tilting my head to hear him better.
"I understood." His arms tightened around me, his chest expanding with a deep breath. "I understood why you did it. I'd wanted to run too, so many times. And part of me was almost... proud of you. For having the courage to actually do it."
"That's not what I expected you to say," I admitted, tilting my head back to look at him, searching his face for the lie. There wasn't one.
"Yeah, well." A crooked smile crossed his face, some of the old Leo peeking through, that familiar mischief glinting in his hazel eyes. "I'm full of surprises."
"That you are," I agreed, a small smile tugging at my own lips.
He laughed softly, pressing a kiss to my forehead, his lips warm and lingering. "Come on, Red. Let's go inside before we freeze to death. I'll make you hot chocolate and we can watch some terrible movie. No more heavy confessions, I promise."
"That actually sounds perfect," I said, meaning it more than I expected to. He stood and pulled me up with him, keeping the blanket wrapped around my shoulders. But before we went inside, he stopped, his hand catching my chin, tilting my face up to his.
"Thank you," he said quietly, his hazel eyes soft in the winter light, all the walls down, just Leo. "For listening. For seeing me. For not running away when I showed you the ugly parts."
"Thank you for showing them to me," I replied, my hand coming up to rest on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath my palm, strong and sure.
He smiled, a real smile, not the charming mask he showed the world, but something genuine and warm and just for me, and led me inside.
For the first time, I thought I might actually be starting to understand what it meant to be theirs.
Not just their Omega. Not just their captive.
Their pack.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
AVA
Mason found me in the library.
I'd been hiding there for the better part of the afternoon, curled up in a leather armchair by the window with a book I wasn't really reading. The others had given me space after Leo's confession on the porch — whether by design or coincidence, I couldn't tell. But the quiet had been welcome, a chance to process everything that had happened over the past few days.
"Ava." His voice was low, commanding even when he wasn't trying to be. I looked up to find Mason standing in the doorway, filling it with his broad shoulders and quiet authority. At twenty-eight, he was the oldest of the four, and it showed, not in lines on his face, but in the way he carried himself. Like he'd been shouldering the weight of the world for so long it had become part of his posture.
"Mason," I said, closing my book and setting it aside, my pulse quickening despite myself.
"Come with me." It wasn't a request. It never was, with Mason. But there was something different in his dark eyes today — something almost uncertain beneath the command.
I stood without arguing, surprising us both. "Where are we going?" I asked, smoothing down my shirt, suddenly aware of how rumpled I must look.
"You'll see." He held out his hand, waiting, his expression giving nothing away. I hesitated for only a moment before taking it. His fingers closed around mine, warm, calloused, impossibly strong. He could crush my hand without effort, but his grip was careful, measured. Controlled, like everything else about him. He led me through the cabin to a room I'd never been in before — a door off the main hallway that I'd assumed was a closet or storage. When he opened it, my breath caught.
It was the a music room. I moved closer, a small smile curving on my face. "Will you play for me?" I asked softly, watching the tension in his shoulders. "Not like before. Not when you think no one can hear. Play for me."
He looked at me then, really looked, his dark eyes searching my face for something. Whatever he found there made his jaw tighten.
"Sit," he said, gesturing to the bench beside him, his voice rougher than before. I sat. The bench was wide enough for two, but barely, our thighs pressed together, his warmth seeping through the fabric of my clothes. He didn't move away. Neither did I.
