13. Elisabed

13

Elisabed

When I woke up, my head was spinning and my stomach was churning.

I tried to sit up, but the nausea overwhelmed me. My throat constricted, and I pressed a hand to my forehead, feeling the slow thrum of panic start to unfurl in my chest.

I closed my eyes and tried to take slow, steady breaths, but it didn’t help. The room felt too hot, the air too thick with my thoughts. I felt...wrong.

It wasn’t just the sickness gnawing at me. There was something darker brewing under the surface. What Marshall had told me last night kept looping in my mind, replaying over and over again like a song I couldn’t stop hearing.

I knew they didn’t want me for the same reasons any other omegas were desired. They didn’t see me as someone to love or even as someone who had a choice in the matter.

No—I was simply a means to an end. Marshall had made that clear. He hadn’t meant to, but the truth slipped out when he spoke of the war, the pact, the dissolution of everything that had held our world together. And now I was caught in the middle of it, my purpose defined not by any bond but by a necessity far bigger than myself.

The weight of it settled heavily on my chest, and I wished I could just disappear into the bed, into the sheets, anything to escape yet another new reality that seemed to close in around me.

I tried to clear my mind, but the thoughts kept coming.

Before everything went down with Raol, I used to work in a little shop on the outskirts of the pack, run by a former enforcer—a dangerous man who’d learned the art of using a blade before he’d hung it up. It wasn’t just the sharpness of his teachings I remembered. It was his lessons about the packs—their structure, the politics behind them, the reasons they’d formed alliances, and the unspoken truths that governed them. But he'd never spoken of the pact like Marshall had, never spoken of the war or the blood that would be spilled when it finally broke out.

My family—my sister—what would this mean for them? What would it mean for the rest of the packs if the alliance fell apart? The thoughts spiraled again, and I squeezed my eyes shut, my stomach lurching.

The door creaked open, and my breath caught.

Marshall.

He strolled into the room, his strong body barely covered by a towel, damp from his shower. He didn’t look at me at first, but then his eyes flicked to me, and his brows furrowed slightly.

“Is everything okay?” His voice was deep and gravelly, but there was a softness in it—a contrast to the hardened persona he maintained most of the time. He reached for his clothes on the nearby chair, his movements slow and deliberate.

I didn’t answer. Nausea hit me again, along with a strange pressure building in my chest.

My skin flushed and became hot to the touch. I tugged at the collar of the shirt, suffocating around my neck. A chill swept through me, and I felt intensely uncomfortable—too hot and too cold at the same time.

Marshall was watching me closely now, clearly concerned. He took a cautious step toward the bed. “Elisabed?”

I wasn’t sure if I could explain what was happening, but before I could try it, the heat inside me bloomed into primal need . My wolf howled in my mind, and I felt her calling for my alphas.

“Marshall...” I whispered, my voice trembling.

He stiffened and sniffed, his jaw tightening. His wolf rose to the surface, clear in how his gaze darkened, drawn to my scent. “Baby,” he said cautiously, his voice low and commanding, and if it were another time, I would’ve swooned at the way he called me baby. “What’s wrong?”

But before I could answer, the door opened again, and August and Finn stepped in, their expressions equally alert.

“She’s in heat,” August answered, his tone clipped but calm, though his sharp gaze lingered on me as if assessing my every move.

Finn leaned against the doorframe, his smirk absent on his face as the tension rippled through him. “Of course she is,” he said. “It was only a matter of time.”

I flushed, embarrassment mingling with the uncontrollable need spiraling inside me. I wasn’t prepared for this—I hadn’t even thought I could enter heat with such an inactive wolf. I curled my arms around myself, but it did little to shield me from their piercing gazes or the intensity of what I was feeling.

My voice broke when I finally spoke. “I can’t...I don’t know what to do. I need—”

Marshall stepped closer, his movements careful as if he were approaching something fragile. “It’s okay,” he said, his voice softer now. “It’s okay, baby. We’ll help you through it.”

Finn’s muscles rippled on his arms as if he was stopping himself from moving closer. “You need to trust us, little omega. Completely.”

I nodded quickly, my earlier turmoil buried under the fire burning my insides. The alphas shared a glance, an unspoken understanding passing between them, and then they moved. Finn grabbed me in his arms as August pulled the blankets from the bed, tossing them onto the floor with purpose. Marshall bent to grab the edge of the bed frame, easily dragging it to the corner of the room, creating more space.

I watched the alphas with wide eyes as they worked in unison, making a fluffier replica of the nest I’d built for them at the cave. My body was screaming for relief, my instincts clawing at my control, but my heart warmed at the thought of them paying me enough attention to follow the exact same steps I had.

When they finished, the mattress was in the middle of the room, surrounded by a thick, makeshift nest of pillows and blankets. It was far larger and more inviting than the one I had hastily constructed in the cave.

Finn knelt inside, his gaze locked on mine, and a slow smirk finally tugged at his lips. “Do you like it?”

I nodded weakly, biting my lip. The warmth of the blankets wrapped around me like a soothing balm, but it wasn’t enough.

“Say it, Elisabed. Tell us what you need from us,” Marshall said, his voice low and rough.

“Touch me. Please,” I whispered. A broken sound escaped my lips, and my cheeks burned with embarrassment.

Finn let out a low growl, staring at me as if I was the last thing he’d ever want to witness in his last moments. “Good girl,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from my face, and my breath hitched as he cupped my face, his thumb now brushing against my cheek.

His gaze flicked to my lips, and with a low moan, he captured my mouth in a desperate kiss.