12. Elena

"I don't knowif I'll be able to come back tomorrow," Declan warns.

"Oh, okay," I reply, nuzzling into his bearded neck. I never gave much thought about a beard before, but I find that I like it. It's soft and comforting against my face.

"Cillian should be back in a few days," he reminds me.

"Does that mean you'll stop coming to see me?" I ask as a pang of pain spasms in my chest, which I don't want to admit is there. I find Declan's energy comforting and relaxing in a way that is wholly different from Cillian's.

"Do you want me to keep coming to see you, blondie?" he asks, a smirk on his face.

"Yes. I think I'd like that."

"You'll let Cillian know if you change your mind about the suppressants?"

I consider it even now. I mean, before, the reason was that Declan was a stranger, although he's not anymore—I just came on his lap. But something holds me back. I'm not sure what it is that draws me to these two men, but there's a hint of danger there that has me wary.

I should be trying to find a white picket fence and simple men to hide away from my past with. But I just can't help how they draw me in.

"I'll let you know. They should be ready any day now."

"Text Cillian and let him know when it's ready, I'll escort you."

I smile at that and shake my head.

"So it's safe to say you'll be watching me?"

"Aye. Someone will always be watching you."

I lick my lips, not knowing how I feel about the possessiveness of it. Wasn't that exactly what I was running from?

"Let's head downstairs," he suggests.

He cuddled me for long enough, although I could have sat on his lap all night long, or we could have done more. I wonder if Cillian gave him strict parameters or not. The idea kind of pisses me off, but then I remind myself that he allowed me to spend time with Declan in his absence.

I get off of his lap, and he tugs my dress over my thighs as I grab my heels, putting them back on. My panties are soaking wet, and I can't wait to get a change of clothes, but being uncomfortable is a near constant when it comes to being an Omega. I can handle making it back to my room.

The wet spot on Declan's pants is obscene, and I blush.

"You do fine work," he jokes, which makes me laugh.

God, when was the last time I enjoyed myself so easily with someone?

He doesn't bother cleaning the spot at all as he takes my hand, and we head down the main hall. We get a few looks from some of the patrons, but Declan either ignores them or gives them an icy glare.

Once we're in front of the apartment entrance, he cups my chin and gives me a soft kiss.

"See you soon, blondie."

Two days of no Declan or Cillian makes me feel embarrassingly desperate and needy. I have multiple fantasies of having both of them at the same time, and yet it does nothing to curb this endless need.

I'm on the cusp of asking Declan for help and begging Cillian to come home. I miss his scent more than I've ever missed anything in my life. Maybe it's some sort of hysteria I'm having? Latching on to the first Alpha, who shows me attention after my dad's passing. That has to be it. There's no way I have a scent match, and he just so happened to stroll in here on my first night. Our scents are just compatible, and I'm extremely attracted to him. That's it, there's no other explanation needed.

I decide to take the night off because there's no way I can go back up there all dressed up and have my heart broken if neither shows up.

My head is a mess, and all I want to do is crawl into a ball and not leave this bed all day. I consider doing just that when there's a knock on my door. Begrudgingly, I wrap the soft pink blanket I ordered a few days ago around myself and answer it.

It's Roger, and he's holding a matte black box with a velvet black ribbon.

"Just arrived for you," he notifies, holding it out.

"Thanks, Roger."

"You doing okay, hun?" he asks, peeking over my shoulder at my messy-ass room.

"Yeah, I'm good. Thank you."

I take the box and shut the door as he leaves before sitting on my bed. There's a card on top of the box with my name in a pretty script font. My finger glides under the tab, and I pull out the gold-foiled greeting card.

Please forgive me.

Those are the only words inscribed. There's no name. Nothing.My heart races as I slide the bow off of the box. My fingers shake as I open the lid and peer inside. When I pull out the contents, I'm left more confused than I was from the note.

It's full of comfort items.

Cashmere socks, a heating pad, a headache band, snacks, and a bottle of the cologne my father used to wear.

I drop the box and blink at the gift on my bed.

Who would know the cologne he wore? Or that it would be a comfort to me. This can't be Anthony, right?

Right?

I'm fully spiraling, imagining the what-if's of who sent the box when I finally decide to do the thing I haven't dared to do since he gave me his number? I, of course, input Cillian's number the night he gave it to me, but I haven't even considered calling him.

His contact information is still saved as Ian, but I don't bother changing it as I click and dial out. I gnaw on my lip, staring at the box while I pace as the line rings.

"Cillian," he says his name sharply. I've never heard him use such a tone in the club, not even with his brother.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have called."

"Elena? What's wrong?" His tone becomes much softer, and I take a breath of relief.

"Did you or your brother send me something?"

There's a pregnant silence over the line. I can tell he's covering the phone while he speaks to someone.

"No, neither of us sent anything."

"Oh, okay."

I think I'm going to have a fucking heart attack. My chest aches, and my breathing picks up while my vision goes hazy. I can barely hear what Cillian is saying when it seems like my world is spinning upside down.

"Go lie on the bed," Cillian uses his Alpha bark through the phone. It's not as effective as it would be in person, but my feet somehow carry me into the bed.

"Cover yourself with all your soft things, and just breathe for me," he commands softly.

If Cillian and Finn didn't send it… that can only mean one thing. Anthony knows where I am. But the note—this goddamn note is the only thing to make me pause. My brother wouldn't ask for forgiveness. He would simply stroll in here, grab me by my hair, and drag me home.

Unless his goal is to torture me or make me spiral before he moves forward with his necessary plans.

"Elena?" Cillian's worried voice asks on the phone.

"Yeah?"

"What did they send you?"

Part of me wants to lie. I don't want to be Elena-the-Don's-daughter with Cillian. I just want to be the Omega he seems to be adamant on spending loads of money and time on.

"They were mostly comfort items, but the note just said please forgive me."

"That's all?" he asks, irritation clear in his voice. But something tells me it's not towards me but someone else.

I don't know why I tell him anything more, but I do. "My dad passed away recently. They sent me the cologne he used to wear."

He sighs over the phone, and I wonder if he's had it with my dramatics. He pays me for a good time, not to hear me having a panic attack on the other end of a phone.

"I'll call Travis. You're not working these next few days. I have work, but I'll be there for the last day of our arrangement. We need to talk through some things. How does that sound?"

I nod but don't answer.

"Elena?"

"Yeah, I can do that."

"I don't think it"s as nefarious as it seems. You're safe there, and if you're not out on the floor, you're even safer. You did good calling me. You can always call me when you need me. Always," he stresses.

His assuring words are the only thing that has my heart rate slowing and my breathing going back to a normal pace.

"Thank you, Cillian."

"Of course, you're my girl," he states before promptly hanging up.

The feeling of dread creeps back in as soon as he hangs up. I put everything back in the box and slide it back under the bed.

Whoever is fucking with me is doing a hell of a job at it.

Staying in my room isn't a hardship, but I am going a bit stir-crazy. I want to feel some fresh air on my face, but more than anything, I want to see Cillian and Declan.

He hasn't called, but he has texted me each day to make sure that I'm alright and to assure me that everything is going to be fine. It's probably stupid, but part of me believes him. I just feel a little hopeless.

I spiral all the same. I contemplated running again, taking the money Cillian gave me and starting somewhere new, but then I quickly crush that idea when I remember how difficult just going to the pharmacy was.

It's a little pathetic how much I like Cillian taking care of my problems, but fuck, I'm just an Omega.

My suppressants still haven't come in, so in between internal panic and eating, I masturbate. It's evident that my heat is coming soon, and I'm hoping that it's something Cillian and I can talk about when he comes to the club tomorrow.

I know just seeing him is going to bring me so much relief.

I'm not sure what he wants our next arrangement to be, and it's probably silly to hope for more than what we have now, but it's what I want. Or, at the very least, for our next agreement to include Declan as well.

I'd be pretty pissed if he let me get to know him only for his plans to include things going back to the way they were. I remind myself that I'm still the one in charge, and I can negotiate.

How do I say exactly how I'm feeling though? I've never poured my heart out to anyone before. The idea of being rejected isn't something I can handle, especially right now.

I don't particularly want to have my heat here at the High Roller, but if that's what it comes down to, I will. Sedation isn't an option; first of all, I don't have insurance, and secondly, I know for a fact that my brother has contacts at the hospital who would notify him as soon as I showed up.

I can picture the scene now: Anthony rolling up to the hospital and tossing me into a sedan as he drives me to my new pack's house to claim me during my heat. There would be no softness, just complete ownership.

A tear slides down my face, thinking about being torn away from the potential I have with Cillian and Declan. It's clear that Cillian is a powerful man, but he has a softness he seems to reserve for just me, and I've become addicted to it. Just like how I crave the easy bond I'm building with Declan. And then there's Finn's scent—nope, absolutely not—I murder that intrusive thought rattling in my head immediately.

I don't want a loveless pack who only wants me for an alliance. I want more, and my brother won't be able to sell me off if I'm already bonded.

That's the deciding factor for me; tomorrow I'm going to tell Cillian how I feel and see if he feels the same.

I'm done hiding in the dark.