I shift slightly, the aches in my muscles a whispered reminder of how I got here—of all the ways they’ve shown me I’m wanted. That I’m more than just an omega to protect. More than a job. More than a responsibility.
They could’ve stayed guards.
But they didn’t.
And I could’ve kept pretending none of this mattered. That my heart wasn’t cracking open every time one of them touched me, making me feel precious.
But I didn’t.
I stare at the ceiling, my fingers curling into the soft edge of Carson’s hoodie that somehow made its way into the nest during the night. It smells like him—marshmallow and safety—and I press it to my nose before I can stop myself.
There’s no mark on my neck anymore.
No fading scar to remind me of Landon and the promise he broke. There’s nothing biological telling me who I’m supposed to love. And that used to scare me.
But now, it’s freedom.
Because this—this messy, slow-burning, undeniable something I’ve found with Graham, Carson, and Hunter—was never about biology.
It was a choice.
Mine.
And waking up tangled in limbs and blankets and thesteady thrum of home beneath my ribs? It feels so much better than anything biology ever gave me.
I turn my head, brushing my nose against Graham’s bare shoulder, and I whisper so softly it almost disappears into the morning light:
“I choose you.”
I don’t expect a response. Don’t even know if he’s awake. But his hand tightens on my hip a moment later, his thumb stroking once—lazy, comforting.
Acknowledging.
Claiming.
And I let myself fall back into that warmth, tucked between all the people I never expected to need.
CHAPTER 52
Finn
Morning light creepsacross the floor of my apartment, warm and soft where it touches the bare boards beneath my feet. I haven’t slept. Haven’t moved from my place at the window. I’ve barely blinked.
Because she’s still there.
Bathed in early light. Tangled in them.
Her nest—their nest now, I guess—is a chaotic sprawl of blankets and pillows gathered in the middle of her bed. It was nothing last night when they carried her there—just bare sheets and tired limbs. But I watched as they made it for her. Every touch, every pillow added, every goddamn layer was done with a reverence I’ve only ever felt alone.
I watched Carson drape a blanket over her legs. Watched Hunter kiss her temple. Graham, with his hand braced against the wall, like he couldn’t get close enough without coming apart. They moved around her, making her theirs.
And I watched it all.
From across the street. Unseen. Unwanted.
But I didn’t turn away.
Couldn’t.
