Elias notices. I can tell by the slight shift in his posture and the way his eyes find mine immediately. “You okay?” he mouths.
I nod and look back toward the movie, my omega basking in the comfort of being surrounded by these alphas.
By the time the movie reaches its ending, the ridiculous comedy has given way to something heartfelt about belongingsomewhere for the first time. I'm barely paying attention to the movie anymore. Instead, I'm aware of the alphas surrounding me—Bash's arm resting across my shoulders, Adrian's hand wrapped around mine, and Elias's comforting presence lingering at the edge of my awareness.
Something has shifted between us tonight.
I don't have a name for it yet.
But I can feel it all the same.
The credits begin to roll as sleep starts pulling at me. Surrounded by them, content in a way that reaches all the way down to my bones, I don't have the energy—or the desire—to resist it.
“You’re good,” Bash says. “Get some rest. We’ve got you.”
I sink deeper against Bash's side, my eyes slipping closed as the credits continue to roll. For so long, being alone had felt easier. It meant there were no expectations, no disappointments, and no risk of needing something from someone who might not stay.
But curled beneath the blankets with Bash's arm around my shoulders, Adrian's hand still wrapped around mine, and Elias's calm presence only a few feet away, I can't quite convince myself of that anymore.
And for the first time, I'm not sure I want to.
Chapter 20
Elias
The credits roll across the screen in soft blue light, names I don’t recognize scrolling past in a steady stream. My attention is fixed on Maya, asleep in the center of the couch with her head tilted toward Bash’s shoulder and her hand still loosely curled around Adrian’s. Neither of them has moved since she fell asleep twenty minutes ago. They sit perfectly still, like they're afraid any movement might break the moment.
I watch as Adrian’s thumb moves slightly against Maya’s hand. He doesn’t seem to realize he’s doing it, his attention is still fixed on her face. The movement is almost imperceptible—a light brush of skin against skin—but Maya shifts in response, a small sound escaping her.
Bash notices immediately. His head turns toward the sound, eyes sharp with concern before he can soften his reaction. He doesn’t pull away or move closer, just watches her face until her breathing evens out again. Then his eyes lift, meeting mine over her head.
She feels safe enough to sleep.
The realization hits harder than it should. I've been watching her since the first week of filming. At first because it was my job. Then because I started noticing things. The way she always arrived before everyone else. The way she solved problems before they reached anyone important enough to complain about them. The way she'd skip lunch when the schedule gottight and somehow still make sure everyone else ate. Somewhere along the way, paying attention to her stopped being strictly professional.
I’ve never seen her look as peaceful as she does right now.
Adrian’s hand shifts again and his eyes lift to mine, the question in them clear.
“It’s okay,” I say. “Let her sleep.”
He nods once, his attention returning to Maya’s face. Bash shifts slightly beside her, resettling his arm across her shoulders when the blanket begins to slip from her lap. Neither of them speaks, both of them focused entirely on Maya’s face—the way her lashes rest against her cheeks, the slight part of her lips, the single strand of hair that’s fallen across her forehead.
Time passes quickly. The credits continue rolling, light shifting across the walls in soft blue patterns. No one moves to turn off the screen or end the moment. We just sit in the near-dark, the three of us watching Maya with the same intense focus.
“She’s been sleeping poorly for days now,” Bash says finally, his voice low enough that it barely carries across the small space between us. “I can tell by her eyes.”
Adrian nods without looking up. “Since the first presentation symptoms,” he says. “Her body’s burning too much energy to sleep deeply. And the blockers make it worse. They dull the instincts but don’t actually reduce the physical strain.”
They're both right, but we have other things to talk about. I want to maintain the peace we’ve managed to create for her.
“This can’t become a competition,” I say suddenly.
Adrian’s head lifts immediately, his gaze swinging towards me. Bash goes still beside Maya, his expression shifting.
“We're all paying attention to the same things,” I continue, keeping my voice low enough that it won’t wake Maya. “The way she settles when we're together. The difference between tonight and how she was two days ago. The fact that she's asleep right now.”
Neither of them argues.
