"You really mean that." My voice came out wondering, cracked and raw. My eyes burned with tears I was too exhausted to fight. "All of you. You'd really just... let me decide?"
"Always." Nolan's voice was rough with emotion, his green eyes shining with something fierce and tender. His thumb traced another gentle path across my cheekbone, catching a tear I hadn't realized had fallen. "Your body, your choices, your pace. That's not negotiable, Aster. Not now, not ever, not if your heat comes back tomorrow or in a year or never. You decide what happens to you. We just want to be here for whatever you need."
I broke.
The tears came then, hot and fast, streaming down my face as something cracked open inside me—years of fear and loneliness and running, years of being told my body wasn't mine, that my biology made me property, that Omegas were things to be managed and controlled and used. All of it spilling out in ragged sobs that I couldn't stop, couldn't control, couldn't hide.
Nolan didn't shush me or try to fix it. He just gathered me into his arms, pulling me against his chest, and held me while I fell apart. His scent surrounded me—eucalyptus and honey, warm and safe—and his hand stroked slowly up and down my back, patient and steady, asking nothing and giving everything.
"I've got you." His voice was a murmur against my hair, soft and certain, a promise written in breath and warmth. "You'resafe here. You're safe with us. Whatever comes, we'll figure it out together."
I clung to him like a drowning thing, face pressed against his chest, tears soaking into his shirt, and for the first time in thirteen years I let myself believe that maybe—maybe—I didn't have to be alone anymore.
Later, after the tears had dried and I'd drunk another cup of coffee and Nolan had held me until the shaking stopped, I found myself in the kitchen with all four of them.
It was accidental—or at least, I told myself it was. Reid and Sawyer had come back from their morning work, and Kol was making something that involved a lot of butter and excited noises, and somehow I'd ended up at the table with a plate of food in front of me while they moved around me like planets around a sun.
I noticed it now, in a way I hadn't before. The way they oriented toward me. The way their eyes tracked my movements. The way Kol leaned in when he talked to me, his amber eyes bright and eager, his scent wrapping around me in waves of orange blossoms and warmth.
"You're staring." Kol's voice was teasing, but there was something underneath it—a careful attention, a deliberate gentleness that told me he knew something was different today. He slid into the chair across from me, his honey-blond hair falling across his forehead, his grin wide but soft around the edges. "Not that I mind. I'm very stare-worthy."
"Humble too." Sawyer's voice was a low rumble from where he stood at the counter, his pale blue eyes flicking toward Kol with something like amusement lurking in their icy depths. He had a mug of coffee in his scarred hands, steam curling up toward his weathered face, his auburn hair still damp from the shower he'd taken after coming in from the fields.
"Humility is overrated." Kol waved a dismissive hand, his amber eyes dancing with mischief, but they kept drifting back to me—quick glances, checking, cataloging, making sure I was okay. His scent had shifted since I'd first met him, or maybe I was just noticing it more now. Brighter. More complex. Something that made my chest feel tight in the best way.
Reid moved past behind me, his hand landing briefly on my shoulder—a touch so quick I might have imagined it, except for the trail of warmth it left behind and the way his scent wrapped around me for just a moment. Whiskey and woodsmoke, solid and grounding.
"You sleep okay?" His voice was low, directed at me even as he crossed to the coffee pot, his dark eyes finding mine over his shoulder. There was concern in them, barely hidden beneath his usual steady calm. His broad shoulders were tight with something that looked like controlled tension, his movements more deliberate than usual.
"Yeah." My voice came out rough, and I had to clear my throat before I could continue. I wrapped my hands around my own mug, letting the warmth ground me, trying to find my footing in this new awareness of everything they were and everything I was becoming.
Reid nodded, something easing in his expression, and turned back to the coffee. But I saw the way his shoulders dropped slightly, the way his whole body seemed to relax at my words. Like my wellbeing mattered to him on some fundamental level, like my answer had settled something that had been worrying him.
I thought about what Nolan had said—about biology, about instincts, about the chemical responses that made Alphas want to protect and provide. I thought about my scent getting stronger, about all four of them noticing, about the way theywere controlling their responses even as their bodies screamed at them to do more.
"Nolan told me." The words came out before I could stop them, quiet but carrying in the sudden stillness of the kitchen. Four sets of eyes turned toward me—green and amber and blue and dark brown, all fixed on my face with varying degrees of attention and concern. "About my scent. About the suppressants wearing off. About... all of it."
The silence stretched for a long moment, heavy with things unsaid. Then Kol broke it, because of course he did—leaning forward on his elbows, his amber eyes wide and earnest, his whole body practically vibrating with the effort of staying still.
"Are you okay?" His voice was gentler than I'd ever heard it, stripped of its usual bouncing energy, leaving something raw and worried underneath. His hands fidgeted on the table, fingers twisting together, that restless energy turned inward. "I know it's a lot to process. If you need space, if we're too much, if?—"
"Kol." Reid's voice cut through the spiral, firm but not unkind, carrying the weight of quiet authority. He'd turned from the coffee pot, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed over his broad chest, his dark eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made my breath catch. "Let her talk."
Kol's mouth snapped shut, but his eyes stayed on me—pleading, worried, desperate to help and not sure how.
I took a breath. Then another.
"I'm scared." The admission came out rough, raw, honest in a way I wasn't used to being. My hands tightened around my mug until my knuckles went white, but I made myself keep talking, made myself push through the fear. "I don't understand what's happening to my body. I don't know what's coming. And the idea that my heat might come back, that I might—" I stopped, swallowed hard, forced myself to continue. "I've spent thirteen years trying to be invisible. Trying not to be an Omega. And nowmy body is doing things I can't control, and I don't know how to handle it."
Another silence, but this one felt different. Softer. Like they were holding space for me rather than waiting for their turn to speak. It was Sawyer who broke it this time, his rough voice carrying across the kitchen like gravel over stone.
"Nothing's gonna happen that you don't want." His pale blue eyes held mine, steady and certain, burning with a quiet intensity that made my chest ache. His jaw was tight beneath his copper stubble, his scarred hands wrapped around his coffee mug like he needed something to hold onto. "Don't care what your biology does. You say stop, we stop. You say go, we go. Simple as that."
"What he said." Kol's voice was fervent, his head nodding so hard his honey-blond hair flopped across his forehead. His amber eyes were bright with emotion, shining in the morning light. "We're not—I mean, I know Alphas have a reputation, and some of it's deserved, but we're not like that. We would never—you have to know we would never?—"
"She knows." Nolan's voice was calm, cutting through Kol's spiraling reassurance with gentle precision. He'd moved to stand near me without my noticing, his hand coming to rest on the back of my chair, his presence warm and grounding at my shoulder. "We've talked about it. She knows she's safe here."
Reid pushed off from the counter and crossed to the table, pulling out the chair beside me and lowering himself into it. His dark eyes found mine, steady and warm, and when he spoke his voice was low and rough with emotion he wasn't trying to hide.
