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Ican’t.

So I pace.

The house is too quiet, too tense. It feels like the air itself is holding its breath. I can hear soft movements from her room, little whimpers, the shuffle of blankets. It makes my skin prickle. Makes me want to kick in the door and wrap her up in my arms, even though I know she’d bolt if I tried.

She needs to come to us willingly. She needs to choose.

But god, it’s killing me.

Especially with her declaration yesterday that she wants us to bond with her during her heat. Does she still mean it? It’s hard to know with the way she’s pushing us away now. Sure, in the height of her heat she’ll beg for our bites, but does shetrulywant them?

Yesterday I would have said yes. Now I’m not so sure.

I clench my fists, try to ride the edge of my instinct. I can feel the others too – just barely keeping it together. All of us feel it. The pull. The shift. The inevitability of what’s coming. We’re just waiting for her to catch up.

I lean against the wall outside her nest, every muscle in my body coiled tight. My pulse is thunder in my ears. I hear her again – this time it’s a soft, broken sound, like she’s lost in some kind of dream or memory or confusion she can’t name.

I squeeze my eyes shut.

We need to talk to her. Tomorrow. No more circling it. No more hoping she figures it out on her own. We owe her the truth.

Even if she’s not ready.

Even if it terrifies her.

I won’t let her go through it blind. Not like before. Not like my brother did, coming into his designation while I was away on tour, leaving him scared and completely alone, at the mercy of our image-obsessed, alpha parents.

I don’t sleep. I can’t.

I just keep pacing. Listening. Waiting.

EVIANA

Iwake in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, my body burning like it’s been set alight. The heat coursing through me is unbearable, and every inch of my skin feels too tight. I can’t breathe properly, and my head is spinning as my omega instincts flare to life, sharp and demanding. It’s like a fever that I can’t shake, a pull I can’t control. My body wants to respond, to give in, but the fear grips me tight, so tight I can’t move.

Alphas.

It feels like they’re everywhere, their presence pressing in on me, suffocating me with that quiet, dangerous force they carry. My instincts scream for me to submit, to surrender to the pull between us, but it’s too much. I can’t. Iwon’t. The thought ofgiving in to whatever is building inside me terrifies me more than anything else.

I can’t hear my omega over the fire coursing through me, but I can tell she wants us to give in. She wants them. Thinks weneedthem. But what does she know? She’s been this dormant thing living inside me for years, what suddenly makes her the expert?

I stumble out of bed, trying to calm myself, trying to make sense of the chaos inside me. The first thing I think of is the shower – cold water. Maybe that’ll help.

But as soon as I step into the bathroom, the darkness overwhelms me. The lights flicker and then die, leaving the house in pitch black. The storm outside roars louder, a low, constant rumble that sends shivers down my spine. Panic starts to crawl up my throat.

I can’t breathe.

I need to breathe.

I turn the shower on, too frantic to check the temperature, and step under the freezing spray. It’s harsh against my skin, the cold water doing nothing to stem the fire burning inside me. It doesn’t help at all. In fact, it only seems to make it worse. I’m shivering now, the cold seeping into my bones, but my body still feels like it’s on fire.

I have to get out of here.

I don’t even remember how I make it through the en suite and nest and out into the hallway. My head is foggy, my steps unsteady, my body aching with the desperate need for something – anything – to make this stop.

Then, in the dark, I stumble into someone. Strong arms catch me before I hit the floor, and I flinch, panic rising even higher at the touch. I try to pull away, but the arms hold me steady, and I look up to see Dane.

He’s awake. And he’s here.