“Six floors, no doorman, no security features on the front,” Dane mutters, almost to himself. “Not ideal.”
“It’s perfectly safe,” I say. “I’ve lived here for three years without incident.”
“The fire escape is directly accessible from the street,” he continues, as if I hadn’t spoken. “Anyone could climb up.”
“I’m on the fourth floor,” I point out. “So unless ‘anyone’ is Spider-Man, I think I’m good.”
Rett’s eyes narrow as he studies the building. “The windows look dated. Should be replaced with something more secure.”
“And there should be cameras,” Tristan adds, pointing to the corners of the entranceway. “At least two, with night vision capabilities.”
“Okay, that’s enough,” I say firmly. “I appreciate the concern,really, but my apartment is fine. I’m fine. This is a safe neighborhood.”
“No neighborhood is completely safe,” Dane says quietly.
I throw my hands up in exasperation. “Do you all practice being this paranoid, or does it come naturally with the alpha genes?”
“Both,” Diego admits with a sheepish smile.
I can’t help but smile back, just a little. “Well, this has been... something. But I should go in. It’s been a long day.”
I push open the front door, stepping into the dimly lit lobby of my building. The elevator is directly ahead, its doors slightly askew as always. To my horror, all four Sterlings follow me inside without hesitation.
“I can take it from here,” I say, stopping at the elevator.
Four pairs of eyes stare at me with varying degrees of stubbornness.
“We’ll see you to your door,” Rett says, his tone matter-of-fact.
I let out a small, incredulous laugh, shaking my head. “My door? My door is on the fourth floor. You’re going to stand in my hallway and watch me put a key in a lock?”
“Yes,” Dane says simply, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“You don’t have to. You don’t have to act like I’m your?—”
“Like you’re our mate?” Rett finishes, his voice dropping to that low register that does funny things to my insides.
Tristan looks genuinely baffled, his head tilted. “I’m sorry, what’s the alternative here? Do beta males just high-five you and peel out, leaving you to fend off the roving bands of sidewalk pirates?”
A laugh escapes me. I look away from their intense gazes, focusing on a crack in the wall instead. “They don’t high-five,” I say, my voice flat. “But yeah. Pretty much. The expectation is that I can handle myself.” I finally meet Tristan’s eyes, letting him see the weary truth in mine. “And I can. I always have.”
That quiet, bitter admission hangs in the air between us, and something in their collective expression shifts. The arrogance is gone, replaced by a fierce, protective stillness. It looks a lot like genuine concern, and it’s suddenly a lot harder to fight. The day has been a roller coaster, and honestly, I’m too exhausted to have this particular fight.
“Fine,” I sigh, pushing the button for the elevator. “You can walk me to my door. But if you start critiquing anything else, I’m leaving you right here.”
The elevator arrives with its usual reluctant groan, and we all squeeze inside. It’s a tight fit with five people, especially when four of them are over six feet tall. I find myself pressed between Diego and Tristan, cardamom and ginger enveloping me in a way that makes my head spin.
“Sorry,” Diego murmurs as the elevator lurches upward, his body briefly pressing against mine. “Not much room.”
“It’s fine,” I say, but my voice is thin. Tight. My body betrays me, a traitorous warmth spreading where we touch. What’s worse is that, in the tight space, the combined scent of them is overwhelming. A musk that goes straight to my head, making my thoughts slow and syrupy. My legs feel unsteady, weak. I close my eyes, but it’s worse. In the dark, I can feel their presence even more strongly. This is it. My normal life isn’t just on another floor; it’s gone, and the doors aren’t opening.
The elevator stops with a jolt at the fourth floor, and I practically tumble out into the hallway, grateful for the space. My apartment is in the middle of the corridor, and I walk toward it with purpose, keys already in hand.
“This is me,” I say, stopping in front of 4C and turning to face them. “Thank you for the... escort.”
None of them make any move to leave. They just stand there, a wall of alpha presence filling my narrow hallway.
“This is the part where you say goodnight and go home,” I prompt, unable to keep a hint of amusement from my voice.They’re so earnest in their protectiveness, it’s truly almost endearing. Almost.
