My body relaxes into his. Muscle by muscle, joint by joint, the tension I've been carrying for weeks surrenders to the simple, undeniable fact of being held.
I'm still scared. I'm still angry about the production. I still have no idea what my career looks like on the other side of this, or how many doors will close, or whether the industry I love will make room for an omega coordinator the way it made room for a beta one.
But curled against Elias's chest in a room built for me by people who wanted me here, the fear feels smaller than it did this morning.
Small enough to carry.
Small enough to breathe around.
Small enough, finally, to sleep through.
I drift. The room blurs at the edges.
Elias leans back against the bed, bringing me with him without breaking the loose hold he has around my shoulders. I settle against his chest as he stretches out beside me. His breathing evens out beneath my cheek, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm my body follows without effort. His hand rests against my back, and the weight of it anchors me to something solid in a world that has felt increasingly unstable for days.
For the first time since presenting, I understand with bone-deep certainty that I’m not alone.
I carry that certainty with me as sleep pulls me under, and for once, I don't resist it.
Chapter 28
Maya
The first thing I notice is warmth.
Not just the blankets, though they’re heavy in the best possible way, layers of soft fabric that press down around me with a weight I’ve apparently been craving without knowing it. The lack of light coming through the curtains feels wrong until I remember the blackout curtains. My body feels so relaxed that I feel almost boneless. The pressure that has been living under my skin is completely absent.
I take a deep breath and savor the feeling for a moment. The scent of cool minerals rests beneath every breath I take—a reminder that Elias is here.
He’s underneath me, one arm still wrapped around my shoulders beneath the blankets. My head rests on his chest, rising and falling with the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing. The warmth of him surrounds me from every side, the blankets tucked over both of us. His hand rests lightly against my back. Even half asleep, the contact feels grounding and safe. His expression is more relaxed than it ever is on set, the familiar distance missing entirely. He looks completely at ease.
I watch him for longer than I mean to.
I keep thinking I’ll feel something weird about this. The morning-after strangeness of sharing space with someone in thedark, the instinct to pull back and reassemble and pretend it wasn’t as intimate as it was. That reflex has been so automatic for so long that I keep waiting for it to arrive.
It doesn’t.
What arrives instead is something considerably more complicated.
Because I'm lying here watching him breathe, thinking about the first night he showed up at my apartment and settled in without ever making me feel like accepting help meant accepting a debt.
Then he did it again the next night.
And the night after that.
Every time I spiraled, he grounded me. He brought food. He drove me where I needed to go. He texted Nadia before I could. He stepped between me and situations that would have overwhelmed me without ever stepping in front of me in a way that took away my agency.
Looking at him now in the soft morning light, I understand something I hadn't fully seen before.
He built the bridge between me, Adrian, and Bash.
I was already terrified of how much I needed them, and Elias was the one who made that need feel manageable. He made it possible to take one step, and then another. He got me through the door.
And when I asked him to stay last night, he did. No hesitation. No expectation attached to it. He simply gave me what I needed.
And I slept.
Actually slept. The whole night through.
