I blink at her, genuinely uncertain. "I... don't know?"
She leans against the counter, her posture relaxed and open. "I had a pack who helped me. Three Alphas who made my freedom a non-negotiable from the very beginning. They understood that caging me would kill me—that my spirit needed to explore and discover and grow. So they found ways to make it work. They traveled with me when they could, handled the paperwork and the bureaucracy when they couldn't, and never once made me feel guilty for needing something beyond the traditional Omega life."
Three Alphas. A pack who prioritized her freedom. Who found ways around the restrictions instead of using them as excuses to control her.
"That was twenty-five years ago," Safiya continues, something soft entering her voice. "And our daughter is turning twenty-five this year, so you can do the math on how quickly things progressed."
I gawk at her, completely unable to hide my shock. "Twenty-five years? And you've been traveling that whole time? With a child?"
Elias whistles low beside me. "Guess you didn't delay."
Safiya laughs—a rich, full sound that fills the space around us. "Well, it was rather a surprise, I'll admit. I was a virgin when we bonded, and suppressants weren't nearly as effective back then as they are now. I told myself one baby would be plenty—I wasn't exactly planning to be a mother at twenty-three while trying to launch a career in coffee." She shakes her head, memories dancing in her eyes. "But my pack ensured I never felt like my daughter or her existence would hold me back. They took turns with childcare, they brought her on trips when she was old enough, they supported every dream I had without ever suggesting I should sacrifice them for motherhood."
Something in my chest loosens—a knot of anxiety I didn't fully realize I was carrying.
"I've been worried about that," I admit quietly, the words slipping out before I can stop them. "Especially with how suppressants aren't good for long-term use. The idea of... of being limited by biology. Of having dreams that get pushed aside because of circumstances I can't control."
Safiya nods, her expression understanding. "You can use suppressants now, while you're settling with a pack. They're much better than they used to be—safer, more reliable. But once you're truly bonded, you should consider stopping them. Not because society demands it, but because heats can be..." She pauses, searching for the right words. "Beautiful experiences, with the right partners. With men who make you feel loved and supported instead of vulnerable and afraid."
I feel Elias shift beside me, his presence warm and solid, listening intently without interrupting.
"It's tragic, really," Safiya continues, her tone turning thoughtful. "The way our society frames heats as something strenuous—almost a burden to be managed. When they should be celebrations. Celebrations of desire and connection andblooming love." She meets my eyes directly. "Think of it like coffee."
I blink, thrown by the analogy. "Coffee?"
"The discovery and variation of coffee couldn't have come to be if early cultivators had feared what they expected." She begins preparing something as she speaks, her hands moving with automatic precision. "If they'd looked at those first wild coffee plants and seen only risk, only the unknown, only the possibility of failure—we'd have none of this." She gestures at the array of equipment around her. "No espresso, no pour-overs, no cold brews or specialty lattes. No Safiya Sunrise. The beauty came from embracing the unexpected. From trusting the process even when the outcome wasn't guaranteed."
The beauty came from embracing the unexpected. From trusting the process even when the outcome wasn't guaranteed.
Is that what I've been afraid to do? Trust the process? Trust these men who keep showing up for me in ways I never expected?
"Let me make you both something special," Safiya offers, already reaching for ingredients. "A traditional Turkish coffee, the way my grandmother taught me. It takes patience, but it's worth the wait."
"That would be amazing," I say, genuinely meaning it.
She nods and turns to her preparations, and Elias gently guides me a few steps away, toward a small seating area that's been set up near the boards. Comfortable chairs with plush cushions, a small table between them, a perfect view of the glittering ice.
He reaches out and moves a few strands of hair from my face, the gesture tender and unhurried. His scent wraps around me—campfire smoke and pine and that underlying warmth that I've come to associate with safety.
"Are you afraid?" he asks quietly. "Of having your heat?"
The question is direct, but his tone is gentle. Not demanding an answer, just... asking. Offering space for honesty.
"A little," I admit, the words coming slowly, each one feeling like a confession I'm not sure I'm ready to make. "It's not... it's not the sexual act that frightens me. Obviously." I feel heat creep up my cheeks but push through the embarrassment. "It's more... being in such a vulnerable state. Completely at the mercy of biology. At the wrong time, in the wrong place, with the wrong people. Or—" I swallow hard, forcing myself to say the thing that haunts me most. "—alone. Being alone during a heat is..."
"Dangerous," Elias finishes when I can't. "Painful. Terrifying."
I nod, grateful that he understands without me having to explain the horror stories, the warnings drilled into every Omega from childhood about what happens when heats go unsupported. The physical agony that builds and builds with no release. The psychological damage that can linger for years. The very real risk of death in extreme cases—rare, but not unheard of. Every Omega knows someone who knows someone who didn't survive an unsupported heat.
And I've been playing Russian roulette with suppressants for years. Using them longer than recommended because the alternative—trusting someone, being vulnerable, risking everything—seemed worse.
"We'd have your back," Elias says simply, his voice steady and certain. "Whatever you needed. However you needed it. No pressure, no expectations—just support. The three of us, or just one of us, or none of us if that's what you preferred. We'd figure it out together."
"But what if..." I hesitate, the fear that's been lurking beneath every tender moment rising to the surface like a creature from deep water. "What if things don't work out? What if thisarrangement ends and I'm back to being alone, and then a heat comes, and I have no one, and?—"
"Hey." Elias cups my face in his hands, forcing me to meet his eyes. "Breathe. Listen to me."
I breathe. I listen.
