Jalen shifts on the couch, drawing our attention. “It would explain a lot, though,” he says thoughtfully. “The timing. The intensity. The fact that all four of us are experiencing the same symptoms simultaneously.”
“It would also explain why we’ve been so on edge around each other,” Cole adds reluctantly. “Rut makes alphas competitive. Especially around a potential?—”
“Don’t finish that sentence,” I warn him.
He holds up his hands. “Just saying.”
Something crashes against the side of the house. Debris from the storm. Probably a tree branch. We all tense, our bodies coiling like springs, ready to respond to a threat that doesn’t actually exist.
Then we force ourselves to relax.
Mostly.
I can feel my heartbeat thundering in my ears. My hands are shaking slightly. And there’s this pressure building in my chest, this need to do something, fix something, protect?—
“We need to get out of here,” I say suddenly. The decision crystallizes in my mind with perfect clarity, cutting through the fog of instinct and emotion. “We need to pack up and leave. Let Sierra have the house. We can brave the storm, find somewhere else to wait this out.”
“In that?” Cole gestures at the shuttered windows, where we can hear the hurricane-force winds rattling everything in their path. “We’d be insane.”
“We’d be insane to stay,” I counter, hearing the edge in my own voice. “If we are going into a rut—and I’m not saying we are, butif—then staying here is dangerous. For us, but especially forher. One alpha in rut is bad enough. Butfour?”
The thought of scaring Sierra, of making her uncomfortable, of losing control around her… it’s unacceptable. I’d rather face down any storm than risk that.
Malik is nodding slowly, his analytical brain clearly running through scenarios. “He’s right. Even if we’re just on edge from being cooped up during the storm, some distance wouldn’t hurt. We could find a hotel, wait it out there until the roads clear.”
“The storm—” Jalen starts, his voice heavy with concern. Because of course Jalen is thinking about the practical dangers, the logical reasons why this is a terrible idea.
“The storm is bad, but we’re alphas. We’ve faced worse in the military. We can handle it,” I interrupt. “What we can’t handle is—” I gesture vaguely at all of us, at the tension vibrating through the room like a live wire. “This.”
Cole runs his hand through his hair again. “What do we tell her?”
“The truth,” I say. “That we think we might be going into a rut, that it’s safer for everyone if we leave, that she can have the house to herself until her heat passes.”
“She’s going to argue,” Jalen points out. “She’s stubborn.”
“Then we argue back,” I say firmly. “But we’re leaving. That’s non-negotiable.”
They’re all quiet for a moment, and I can see them processing, weighing the options, running through the pros and cons.
Malik sets down his phone. “Okay. Let’s pack.”
We move with purpose then. I grab my duffel bag from beside the coffee table and start throwing clothes into it. My movements are a tad aggressive, fueled by the need to do something, anything, to feel like I’m taking action.
The whole time, my body is protesting. My instincts are raging against what we’re doing.
Don’t leave her. She needs protection. She needs care. She needs a pack around her while she’s vulnerable. What if something happens? What if she needs help? What if?—
“She needs space,” I mutter to myself as I zip up my bag. “She needs to not have four potentially rutting alphas breathing down her neck.”
I can hear the others packing too. Cole is cursing softly as he tries to fit everything into his bag. Jalen’s moving slowly, probably making a mental checklist. Malik’s already done, efficient as always.
I grab my toiletries from the bathroom. The essentials. We can get whatever else we need once we find a hotel.
If we can find a hotel. If any of them are even open during a tropical storm. If the roads are even passable enough to?—
I’m almost back in the living room, bag slung over my shoulder, when I hear it.
A door opening down the hall.
