“Thank you,” I whisper. “For coming for me.”
“Always,” Ben murmurs against my hair.
“Any time,” Milo adds.
Elijah doesn’t say anything. Just keeps his hand on my back, solid and grounding, saying everything with touch that he can’t with words.
We stay like that for a long moment. The fire crackles. The snow falls. And for the first time in as long as I can remember, I’m not alone.
I have no idea what’s coming. How my body will react or what the next few days will bring. Whether I can really let go of a lifetime of walls and control and fear.
But right now, I’m warm. I’m safe. And I’m not alone.
For now, that’s enough.
Chapter 12
Elijah
The fire needs another log.
I’ve been watching the flames for the past hour, tracking the way they consume the wood. The crack and pop of sap. The slow crumble of bark to ash. It’s easier than watching her.
Not that I’ve stopped.
Tessa’s curled up on the couch with a book she found on Ben’s shelf—some thriller with a cracked spine and yellowed pages. She hasn’t turned a page in twenty minutes. Her eyes keep drifting to the window, to the white nothing beyond the glass, and every few minutes she shifts position like she can’t get comfortable.
I know why.
Her scent has been getting stronger all afternoon. What started subtle—soft lavender with a hint of citrus—has deepened into something richer. Headier. Every time she moves, it rolls through the cabin like a wave, and I have to grip the arm of my chair to keep myself still.
The afternoon passed slow and strange. Cards for a while—Milo cheating badly enough that even Tessa noticed, Ben calling him out with increasingly creative insults. Then we turned onthe battery-powered radio, listening to weather updates and static-filled country songs while the storm howled outside.
Normal things. Easy things. Except nothing feels normal with her scent thickening in the air and my body responding in ways I can’t control.
I’ve been hard for hours. Not constantly—it comes and goes, tied to her movements, her sounds, the way she stretches or sighs or tucks her legs underneath her. Every time I think I’ve gotten it under control, she shifts and her scent hits me fresh and I have to start over.
The others are handling it. Milo’s been handling it better than me, at least outwardly. He’s sprawled in the armchair now, telling some story about a bar fight that may or may not have actually happened, keeping her laughing. Keeping things light. That’s what Milo does—fills silence, smooths edges, makes people feel at ease.
Ben’s in the kitchen, putting together something for dinner. He’s been quieter than usual since this afternoon, when she broke down and let us hold her. I catch him looking at Tessa when he thinks no one’s watching. The same way I look at her.
We’re all circling her. Three alphas, orbiting the same sun, trying not to crash into each other.
“—and that’s when River decided to climb onto the bar and declare himself king of the establishment,” Milo finishes. “He was banned for a month.”
Tessa laughs—a real one, surprised out of her. “River Brooks? That doesn’t surprise me at all.”
“The very same. Don’t let the charm fool you. He’s chaos in human form.”
“Sounds like someone I know.” She glances at Milo, a smile tugging at her lips.
“I have no idea what you’re implying.” Milo presses a hand to his chest in mock offense. “I’m a pillar of respectability.”
“You literally told me you once convinced an entire bachelorette party that you were a professional tango dancer.”
“And then I proved it.” He winks.
She’s smiling. That’s good. She’s been wound tight all day—through breakfast, through the consent conversation that made her face flame, through the cold shower that did nothing to calm her down. Holding her on the couch helped, but I could feel the tension still coiled in her spine when I touched her back.
