My lip trembles. I bite down on it hard, trying to maintain some shred of composure, but it’s no use.
The tears come.
Not quiet, dignified tears. Full body-shaking sobs that I can’t control. Everything is too much. The heat, the pain, the ruined nest, the broken window, the four alphas I can’t have, even though my body is screaming for them.
I curl onto my side, pulling my knees up, and let myself break.
Nothing is fine. And I can’t pretend anymore.
My shoulder throbs. Fresh slick pools between my thighs because apparently, my omega thinks a breakdown is the perfect time to advertise my availability. The scent of my slick intensifies, probably broadcasting my distress along with my heat to the entire house.
I press my face against the wet floor and sob harder.
Then I hear it.
Footsteps in the hallway.
Multiple footsteps.
Running.
Oh god. They heard me.
“Sierra?” Dax’s voice, sharp with alarm. “Are you okay?”
I try to answer, but all that comes out is another sob.
“Sierra!” Jalen now, closer. Right outside my door. His voice cracks with worry. “Answer us. Please. Are you hurt?”
I manage to draw in a shaky breath. “I’m?—”
Another sob cuts off whatever lie I was about to tell.
“Fuck this,” Dax growls. “I’m coming in.”
The door crashes open.
The moment it does, the scent of my heat pours into the hallway. I hear all four of them make sounds. Sharp intakes of breath, low growls, desperate whines.
Then they’re flooding into my room.
Dax enters first and stops dead, his entire body going rigid. His scent spikes so aggressively it makes my omega release a high-pitched whimper.
“Oh fuck,” he breathes. “Sierra?—”
Malik shoulders past him, then freezes too. His jaw clenches so hard I can hear his teeth grinding. Vanilla ice-cream floods the room, thick and sweet and desperate.
My gaze shifts to Jalen, and the sound he makes when my scent hits him is almost a whimper. His hands curl into fists athis sides. Toasted marshmallow and spiced cider goes dark and rich and wanting.
Cole has to brace himself against the doorframe. “Jesus Christ,” he chokes out. Cinnamon-glazed pecans explodes around him, so potent I can taste it.
They’re all staring at me. At the omega crying on the floor, soaked and hurting and surrounded by the ruins of her nest, heat-scent so thick in the air it’s like a fog.
For a moment, nobody moves. They’re frozen by the sight, by the scent, by their ruts screaming at them to do something.
Then I sob again, and it breaks the spell.
“Sierra.” Dax’s voice is pure gravel. He takes a step toward me, then another, fighting for control with every movement. “What happened? Are you hurt?”
