We could have taken her then. Wewantedto take her then. Caleb had argued for it, loudly and at length, his ice-blue eyes wild with the need to hunt, to chase, toclaim.
But I'd said no.
"She's not ready," I'd told my brothers, watching our Omega cry herself to sleep in an empty apartment with no nest, no pack, no comfort. "She ran because she was scared. If we drag her back now, she'll only run again."
"Then we don't let her run," Caleb had snarled. "We chain her to the fucking bed if we have to."
"And have her hate us forever?" I'd shaken my head. "No. We do this right. We give her time to see what life is like without us. And when she's ready—when she's desperate and lonely andachingfor everything she threw away—we bring her home."
It had taken every ounce of self-control I possessed to wait. To watch. To let her have her pathetic imitation of freedom while we quietly dismantled every foundation she tried to build.
The apartment she'd rented? Owned by a shell company that traced back to Harper Holdings. The job she'd gotten at the hospital? Her supervisor owed my father a favor. Thescholarship she'd received for her nursing program? Funded by a trust that Ethan had set up specifically for the purpose.
Every step she took away from us, we were right behind her. Every choice she made, we'd already made for her.
She thought she was free. She thought she was building a new life.
She had no idea she was just a bird in a very large cage, flying exactly where we wanted her to go.
"The Carol call went well." Leo said, pulling me out of my thoughts as he pulled out his phone, scrolling through something I couldn't see. "She agreed to think about the trip. Hook is set."
"Think about it." Caleb snorted. "She'll go. Look at her. She's desperate."
He wasn't wrong. On the screen, Ava had finally stopped crying and fallen into a restless sleep, but even unconscious, she looked... fragile. Hollowed out. Like the loneliness was eating her alive from the inside.
Good, whispered the dark part of me. The part that had watched her for three years and wanted her to suffer. Wanted her to know what it felt like to be without pack, without comfort, withoutus.Good. Now you understand. Now you know what you threw away.
But another part of me, the part that had loved her since she was sixteen years old, all red hair and green eyes and shy smiles—ached at the sight of her pain.
Soon, I promised her silently. Soon you won't have to hurt anymore. Soon you'll be home, and we'll take care of you, and you'll never have to be alone again. Whether you like it or not.
"What's the status on the cabin?" I asked, pulling my gaze away from the screen with effort.
"Ready." Ethan consulted his tablet. "I've had our people saturating it with our scents for the past month. Clothing,bedding, even the furniture has been treated. The moment she walks through the door, she'll be swimming in Alpha pheromones."
"Nesting materials?"
"Curated selection based on her preferences." A ghost of a smile crossed Ethan's face. "I've been tracking her purchases for three years. I know exactly what textures she prefers, what weights, what colors. The cabin is stocked with everything she could possibly need to build the perfect nest."
"And the suppressants?" I asked, eyes glancing to him
"Her prescription was filled yesterday. The batch has been... adjusted. By the time she takes her next dose, her system will have nothing left to suppress." Ethan told me, a smirk flickering across his face.
Caleb's grin was sharp enough to cut. "So she shows up at the cabin, her heat triggers, and she has nowhere to go."
"Nowhere to run," Leo agreed. "No car—we'll have the only vehicles. No phone signal—the cabin's in a dead zone. No help coming—the nearest neighbor is forty miles away."
"Just her and us," I said. "Just like it should have been all along."
The others shifted, restless with anticipation. I understood. After three years of waiting, of watching, of denying ourselves the one thing we wanted most in the world, and we were finally, about to have her.
We had to be patient a little longer.
"Remember the plan," I said, letting a thread of Alpha command slip into my voice. The others stilled, their instincts responding to their Prime. "We don't claim her in the first heat. We don't bite her until she asks for it."
"And if she doesn't ask?" Caleb's voice was rough with barely suppressed need.
"She will." I turned back to the screen, to Ava's sleeping form, to the nest she'd built without knowing why. "She's ours. She's always been ours. Once she's with us, once she's surrounded by pack and drowning in our scents, she won't be able to deny it anymore."
