“Multiple roads are washed out,” Cole adds, his voice hollow.
“Shelter in place,” Jalen finishes.
The implication settles over all of us like a weighted blanket made of concrete.
We’re trapped.
This is, objectively, the worst possible scenario. Every worst-case scenario we’ve been trying to avoid, every careful boundary we’ve been maintaining, every precaution we’ve taken has all been rendered meaningless by flooded roads and washed-out bridges.
I can feel panic trying to claw its way up my throat. I’ve planned disasters. I’ve run emergency response operations. I’ve coordinated evacuations and rescues and crisis management.
But I have no idea how to handle this.
Sierra looks at each of us in turn, her gaze moving from face to face. Her fever-bright eyes are clearer than they have any right to be, and despite the heat and the obvious discomfort and the way she’s still swaying on her feet, she seems to be actually thinking, actually processing.
Finally, she speaks.
“Well,” she says, her voice remarkably steady under the circumstances. “I guess we need a plan.”
CHAPTER TEN
Sierra
Standing in the hallway watching four alphas process the fact that they’re trapped here with me would be almost funny if my entire body wasn’t on fire.
I can feel another wave building. That deep, insistent ache that starts low in my belly and radiates outward. The oversized t-shirt I’m wearing feels like sandpaper. And underneath it all is this hollow, empty feeling that makes me want to curl up and whimper. And my heat hasn’t even started properly yet.
Safe to say, I’m fucked.
But right now, I need to think.
Four alphas. Going into rut. Stuck in a house with me during my heat.
This is the setup to either some omega’s wet dream or a disaster preparedness nightmare. Possibly both.
I press my hand harder against the wall, using the cool surface to ground myself. Focus. They need you to be rational right now, even if every instinct you have is screaming at you to either run back to your nest or walk straight into their arms.
Neither of those options is acceptable.
“Okay,” I say, and I’m proud of how steady my voice sounds. “So, leaving isn’t an option. Which means we need to establish some ground rules for... this situation.”
Dax is staring at me as if I’ve just suggested we all go swimming in the storm surge. “Sierra, you should go back to your room. Rest. We can figure this out.”
“I’m fine,” I lie. I’m absolutely not fine. I’m approximately thirty seconds away from another heat wave that’s going to make me want to crawl out of my skin. But they don’t need to know that. “And this affects all of us, so we should all have input.”
“She’s right,” Malik says, though he’s maintaining a careful distance, standing behind the couch like it’s a shield. “We need clear boundaries. Clear expectations. Everyone on the same page.”
There’s something about the way he says it, so calm and rational, that helps. Like this is just another problem to solve.
I can work with that.
I gesture to the space they’ve been occupying. “We should sit down. Talk this through.”
“Are you sure you’re up for—” Jalen starts, concern written all over his face.
“I’m sure,” I say firmly, even though I’m not. Even though sitting in a room with them when their scents are already making my omega want to do extremely inadvisable things sounds like the worst idea I’ve had all week.
But what’s the alternative? Hiding in my room while they make decisions about how to handle this? No. Absolutely not. I’m not that person.
