Chapter Seventeen

Riley

A lot of my clients are old-school—ordering parts and requesting consults for their family garages of twenty, sometimes even thirty years—and would much rather pick up the phone than send an email. I used to find this charming.

But now, as my phone goes off and makes Eve stir, I bristle.

"Shit," I hiss.

Red turns in his chair, checking on Eve—thankfully still asleep—in her office nest, then glancing up at me.

" You good ?" he mouths.

I nod, walking the phone into the hall. The call only lasts a few minutes. I'm probably nowhere near as charming as I could be, holding a silent grudge that anyone would dare disturb my resting omega.

I sigh, looking down at my phone. My heart jolts.

UNKNOWN

Riley ?

Can you at least let us know if these reached you

I guess, after a month, they have a right to wonder.

And yet my blood boils. If these reached you ? Seriously? As if I haven't been agonizing over each and every word for weeks?

I realize I'm shaking, my fingers turning white around the phone.

Am I losing it? Sure feels like it—like a breaking point that's been creeping up on me for weeks, sending fissures all through my body, waiting for this very moment.

I'm not a pup anymore. They can't keep doing this to me—making me feel like I've let them down, only to sweeten the blow by making me feel wanted again.

It's not me they really want to see , I remind myself, the thought black with spite.

Suddenly my phone is on the floor. There's a pain in my hand like I've just made impact with something. I cast my gaze to the side, finding my arm is extended, the side of my fist throbbing against the wall.

The office door bursts open. Red stands there, eyes wide.

"Riley, what—" he recoils. "Woah."

My body feels like it's moving out of order. I pull away from the wall, blinking. Or maybe I blink, then pull away.

Red grasps my hand, turning it over. "You hurt yourself?"

My cheeks heat in embarrassment. "It's fine."

"You're shaking," he mutters, reaching for his phone. "I'm calling Marc."

"No." I grip his other hand, stopping him. "I'm good."

He yanks free.

" Red. I'm good."

It's weird to see him like this, but also … not. He gets overprotective of Eve all the time, and even more so with a pup on the way. All that excess energy has to go somewhere. He's not the only one , I realize, thinking back to when Marcus spoke about contacting his parents, or when Thorn told us he was returning to work. My inner alpha has never been so possessive of her fellow packmates.

"Did they say something to you?" Red demands, jerking his head to my phone on the floor. "Piss you off?"

"Keep your voice down," I hiss.

"No—if they're harassing you, I want to know about it. Baxter will, too."

"Who's harassing you?"

Both of us snap to the office door, where Eve is hastily rubbing sleep out of her eyes. Her lilac eyes are a blessing, dousing me in calm, before I realize what she's just walked into.

"Alpha?" she asks, more worried now, as she squirms past Red to get to me. "You're upset." It's not a question so much as a plea— How can I help ?

All this time, I've been hiding from her, too ashamed to admit to my fear. Afraid she'll think I'm weak for wanting to see my parents, or weak for not wanting to see them, or worst of all—weak for putting her in the middle of it.

Eve reaches up, her eyes searching mine. That's when it hits me.

If this is what being weak feels like … I'm okay with that.

"Omega," I say, "I need to tell you something."

***

She takes it better than I expect. Really, I should've given her more credit.

If anyone understands family drama, it's my omega.

"I know you're scared of them," Eve says, but kindly, in a way that makes me feel seen. "Fear is good, right? It protects you." Then her gaze deepens. "Unless something, or someone, is protecting you already."

Baxter regards us from the living room armchair, not interfering unless he's called upon. Red sits with me and Eve on the couch.

I tuck a strand of Eve's hair behind her ear. "Is that what you want, pretty girl? For me to face my fears?"

"I want you to do whatever you feel is right, and trust that we'll still be here if you need us."

It's the same thing my packmates have been trying to tell me all along. This is my decision, and no matter what, I have their support. But there's an added depth to the words when Eve speaks them, like she already knows what I want. In her knowing it, I feel like I finally know myself.

"I want to see them," I answer.

The words hang there for a moment, making my stomach drop, until Eve smiles.

"Then let's see them, the next time we're in the city." She looks up at Baxter. "That works, right?"

My head alpha eyes me one more time, confirming, before nodding. "I'll make arrangements."

I know what that's code for—scheming with Thorn, making sure we're somewhere secure, with several possible escape routes, not overly crowded, or overly intimate.

"Wait," I stop him. "Are we sure this is the right time? I'm willing to talk to them, but with how sick Eve's been …"

Baxter hesitates, glancing at Eve. Something unspoken glows between them. "There's no guarantee those symptoms are going to ease up, but we are moving into the second trimester. Could change things."

"Make things less pukey and cry-y, you mean," Red says.

"Yes to the first," Eve plays along, "probably no for the crying."

"Let's at least get Marcus's thoughts," I plead. "I'm all for pushing my own limits, but if he thinks the stress could be bad for Eve—"

Eve frowns. "He'll say no."

"No, he won't," Baxter assures us, then considers. "Even if he wants to."

Not the most comforting thing to hear, but then, Baxter is more honest than he is comforting. It's another thing I respect about him as our head alpha.

"Talk to your parents," Baxter says to me. "Tell them to plan for next month's ultrasound. If plans change, they change, but it'll be one less hurdle to clear."

I release a breath, grateful for his guidance. "Yeah. Okay."

Eve smiles at me, the image of an angel, radiant not just with love.

But with pride.