Her eyes are starting to droop, exhaustion and satisfaction pulling her toward sleep.
“Sleep,” Jalen murmurs. “We’ll be right here when you wake up.”
“Promise?” she mumbles, already half-gone.
“Promise,” we all say in unison.
Her breathing evens out within minutes, her body going slack and boneless against Dax. She’s utterly trusting, completely vulnerable. A low growl rumbles in my chest, an instinct so deep I have to clench my jaw to suppress it. My alpha wants to build a wall around her with our bodies and dare anything to get close.
We sit in silence for a while, just watching her sleep. Dax’s knot has started to go down, but he makes no move to separate them, seemingly content to stay joined as long as possible.
Finally, Malik speaks, his voice barely above a whisper. “We should talk about rotation.”
“Rotation?” I repeat.
“She’s going to need all of us before this is over. We should have a plan.”
He’s right, of course. Sierra’s heat is far from over. This was just the beginning. And all four of us are deep in rut, barely holding on to control even now.
“No plan,” Dax says quietly. “We follow her lead. She reaches for who she needs in the moment. No schedules, no taking turns. Just... responding to what she needs.”
It’s a good idea. Fair. Puts Sierra’s needs at the center, where they should be.
“Agreed,” Jalen says softly. “Though we should probably set up a system for food and water. Someone needs to be clear-headed enough to make sure she stays hydrated and fed.”
“I can do that,” I offer. “I’m good at staying focused even in rut.”
“We’ll take shifts,” Malik decides. “Two in the nest at all times, two on support duty. We rotate every few hours.”
“Works for me,” I agree.
Silence falls again, heavier this time. We’re all thinking the same thing; I can tell. Sierra is different. What we’re all feeling goes beyond rut response or heat compatibility.
This is dangerous.
This is the kind of thing that could change everything.
“We’re in trouble,” Dax finally says, his voice rough.
I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Big trouble.”
“She’s incredible,” Malik adds quietly. His scent has gone soft and warm, affectionate in a way I’ve never smelled before. “I’ve never met an omega like her.”
“What happens when the storm ends?” Jalen asks.
The question hangs in the air. What happens when Sierra’s heat breaks and our ruts fade? When we’re all thinking clearly again? When she has to decide if this was just biological necessity or something more?
What happens if she chooses to leave?
The thought makes my chest tight and my rut surge with possessive denial. She’s ours. I don’t know when it happened, but she’s our omega. Our pack. She can’t leave.
But she’s not actually ours. Not permanently. Not yet.
Maybe never.
The silence stretches, none of us wanting to voice our fears. None of us wanting to think about Sierra walking away once this is over.
Because the truth is, I don’t think I could handle it.
