I blink, slow and heavy, as my head tips naturally against his chest. His suit is warm where it presses against my cheek, his scent curling around me like a blanket pulled straight from a dryer.
Grason steps in close, a massive shadow at Warren’s side, but I barely register him. Everything is heat. Weightlessness. The steady rise and fall of Warren’s breathing beneath my cheek and his heart thumping softly in my ear.
I try to open my eyes again.
I really do.
But they won’t obey. The world keeps slipping sideways as my body sinks into Warren like he’s the only solid thing left in existence.
“Tansy?” Warren murmurs, voice somewhere above me, warm and careful.
But I’m already gone.
The darkness folds around me, soft and inevitable, and I fall asleep in his arms.
On the Road
Warren
The road home is a dark,empty ribbon stretching ahead of us, trees flickering past in the headlights. I keep one hand steady on the wheel, the other resting uselessly on my thigh, tapping out nerves I won’t let myself say out loud.
Grason sits in the backseat with Tansy tucked against him.
She’s unconscious. Her cheek pressed to his chest, her breath coming out slow and shallow. She hasn’t stirred once since we put her in the car. Whatever they dosed her with must be really strong.
The Bluetooth chimes and Beck’s name flashes on the dash.
“Hey, babe,” I say.
“Warren?” His voice crackles through the speakers. “Can you hear me? How did it go? Is she—did you findsomeone?” His questions come fast, stacking on top of each other until he sounds breathless.
I clear my throat. “We’re heading home, Beck.” I glance at Tansy’s sleeping form in the rearview. “We got an omega.”
A soft, disbelieving sound breaks through the speakers—half-laugh, half-sob—and I can practically see Beck’s face in my mind. Wide eyes, messy hair, that too-big smile he gets when he’s really excited.
“Oh my god.” His voice cuts through the speakers, tight. “Warren. I can’t believe this.” There’s a shaky inhale on the line. He’s crying happy tears, I’d bet my life on it. “Tell me everything. Is she okay? What’s her name? I hope she isn’t scared. Is she—can I talk to her?”
My fingers tighten on the wheel. “She’s dead asleep,” I say. “And even if she was awake, she’s too drugged to really talk.”
“Oh.”
Grason’s hand comes into view in the rearview mirror. His massive palm rests protectively on Tansy’s hip, holding her steady every time the car shifts.
Beck’s silence crackles for a moment.
Then his worry hits full force.
“She’s actually…drugged?” His voice is strained. “What did they give her? Is she hurt? Is she breathing alright? Should I—should I call Dr. Pace? He should look her over, make sure she’s really okay. Are you making sure she’s warm? And drinking enough water. What?—”
“Beck.” I keep my voice even, even though everything inside me feels like a live wire. “She’s okay, babe. She’s breathing fine. She’s …out for now.”
A soft sound filters through the speaker. I imagine Beck covering his mouth, or maybe trying not to cry. He’s beenwound tight for so long that any shift feels like it could snap him in half.
“What’s her name?” he asks quietly.
“Tansy,” I say. “She told me her name before she passed out. She has dark red hair and pretty brown eyes.”
“She’s tall.” Grason’s voice rumbles from the backseat, low and steady. “And she looks strong. She’s gonna be alright.”
