I stare at the cards in my hands, at the pretzel chips I’ve won, at everything except the four alphas who might walk out of my life tomorrow.
And I have absolutely no idea what I want.
Or what they want.
Or what any of this means.
“I fold,” I say quietly, setting down my cards.
It’s meant to be about the poker game.
But it feels like so much more.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Jalen
The sound of the front door closing echoes through the house, followed by Cole’s voice calling back, “We’ll check the cars and clear the driveway!”
I watch from the window as my pack brothers head outside, Dax already surveying the debris scattered across the property with that tactical assessment he does. Malik has his phone out, probably documenting damage. Cole is just... being Cole, jumping over a fallen branch like it’s an obstacle course.
The house feels too quiet without them.
Too empty, even though Sierra’s still here somewhere.
I move through the rooms restlessly, unable to settle. My body doesn’t know what to do with itself now that the rut has fully faded. For days, I’ve had a singular focus: take care of Sierra, ease her heat, keep her safe. Now that focus is gone and I’m left with... what?
The awareness that tomorrow we might leave. That this might end before I’ve figured out how to make it not end.
The power flickers once, twice, then surges back on with a hum that sounds almost aggressive after days of running on thegenerator. Lights brighten throughout the house. The refrigerator, which had been humming steadily, gives a loud clatter as the automatic ice maker kicks back into life.
Normal sounds. Normal power. Normal life creeping back in.
I grab the remote and turn on the TV just to fill the silence, not really caring what’s on. Some afternoon talk show appears, the hosts discussing weekend plans like the world hasn’t just been turned upside down.
I’m staring at the screen without seeing it when I hear her.
Soft footsteps on the hardwood. The whisper of fabric. That honeycomb and cherry syrup scent that’s become as familiar as breathing.
I turn, and there she is.
Sierra’s wrapped in one of the blankets from her nest, pulled tight around her shoulders. Her hair is still slightly tousled from her nap, falling in soft waves around her face. She looks... fragile, somehow. Smaller than usual. There’s a slight tremor running through her that has nothing to do with cold.
Post-heat jitters. I recognize them from helping omega friends through their cycles in college. The hormones don’t just stop cleanly. They spike and dip erratically for a day or two after, leaving omegas shaky and vulnerable and needing alpha presence to help regulate.
“Hey,” I say softly. “Couldn’t sleep?”
She shakes her head, pulling the blanket tighter. “Tried. Just... couldn’t settle. Everything feels wrong.”
“Come here.” I don’t think about it, just open my arms in invitation.
She crosses the room without hesitation and folds herself into my lap, blanket and all. The trust in that simple action makes my chest tight. She fits perfectly against me, her head tucked under my chin, her body curling into mine like she was designed for exactly this position.
I wrap my arms around her and pull her close, and I feel the trembling ease slightly. Not gone, but better. My scent helps.Alpha presence helps. Her omega recognizing an alpha who can help her regulate.
Except it doesn’t feel like just biology anymore.
“Better?” I murmur against her hair.
