Page 10 of Bound By Song (Evie Quad Omegaverse #1)

But my mind keeps wandering. Back to the farmhouse. Back to her.

And I know, as the film plays on and my band mates shift in their seats and fail to laugh at the jokes in the film that I’m not the only one distracted.

The cottage is dark and quiet, save for the soft creak of the ancient floorboards and the occasional whistle of wind through the thatched roof.

Blaise is snoring softly in the next room, the sound muffled but still distinct.

Dane, ever the night owl, has probably only just fallen asleep, and I know I should be doing the same.

But I can’t.

I toss and turn, yanking the duvet up, then kicking it off again. The bed’s comfortable enough, but my head won’t stop spinning, replaying every moment from earlier tonight.

Her.

The omega in the farmhouse.

She’d been a vision standing there in the doorway, framed by peeling paint and the soft glow of a single yellowed bulb.

Her hair was long and fair, wispy, and a bit messy, like she’d been pulling it back and forth from her face all day.

And her eyes – blue with flecks of something warmer, gold maybe, catching the light when she scowled at us – were quite captivating.

I groan, rubbing a hand over my face. I shouldn’t be thinking about her like this.

But the details won’t leave me alone: the way her floral skirt brushed her ankles, swishing when she shifted, and the pastel blue of her toenails peeking out beneath it.

The thin band of silver circling her second toe.

It was oddly delicate, soft in a way that felt like a secret.

Something she probably hadn’t meant for us to notice.

Something I definitely shouldn’t have noticed.

My mind betrays me, looping back to the flash of fire in her expression when she cracked the door open and snapped at us. It was sharp, controlled, but behind it…

I see it again.

The fear.

Hidden behind the fierce scowl, buried beneath the snarl in her voice, but there all the same.

The memory hits like a bucket of cold water, snuffing out whatever spark of arousal had crept up on me. My stomach coils, and I roll onto my side, staring at the faint moonlight spilling across the wooden floor.

She was terrified of us.

I swallow hard, my throat dry. We’re alphas, and we know what that means to an omega – a presence that’s impossible to ignore, a constant weight pressing down, even when we’re not trying.

And three of us showing up on her doorstep, uninvited, overwhelming her with our size and energy? It must’ve felt like an invasion.

She held her ground, though. As much as she could. That little rolling pin in her hand, her shoulders drawn tight, her lips pressed into a line that said she wouldn’t let us win.

And yet, it wasn’t strength I saw when she looked at me. Not really.

It was desperation.

“Shit,” I mutter under my breath, scrubbing both hands through my hair. My chest feels tight, the weight of guilt settling heavy.

I don’t even know her name. I don’t know why she’s living in that wreck of a farmhouse, or why she’s got scent neutralisers pumping through the air like she’s trying to erase herself.

But I know this: she doesn’t deserve to be alone out there, scared and – god, is she scared all the time? Or was it just us?

The thought makes my fists clench, my jaw tightening as I try to push the images away.

It doesn’t work.

By the time the first light of dawn creeps in through the curtains, I feel like I’ve been wrestling with myself all night. My body aches from the lack of sleep, but my mind is clear about one thing.

I need to see her again.

Not to bother her. Not to push. Just to…check. To make sure she’s all right. To apologise, maybe and make amends.

The thought settles over me as I sit up, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. My movements are careful, quiet, as I grab my jumper and pull it over my head. Blaise is still snoring in the next room, and Dane will no doubt grumble about me being up so early, but I don’t care.

I need to do this.

I splash water on my face to clear the grogginess, brush my teeth, dress and lace up my boots, my thoughts constantly drifting back to her.

The beautiful omega in the farmhouse.

To the fear in her eyes – and the fierce, fragile strength she’d wrapped herself in to keep us out.

And somewhere, deep down, I hope I can fix the damage we caused.

I stand by the window, staring out at the mist that’s begun to settle over the cottage grounds. The sky is grey, heavy with the threat of more rain, but I can’t shake the restless need that’s gnawing at me.

I need to go back.

Without thinking, I turn to the room Blaise chose for himself, glancing at him sprawled out on the bed.

He’s still out cold, breathing evenly, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

He’s got a good few hours before he’ll be up, but I’m already pacing in place, the guilt tightening around me like a vice.

I need him to understand.

I walk over to the bed and sit on the edge, nudging Blaise’s leg with my hand. He stirs slightly, muttering something incomprehensible as he shifts, but doesn’t wake. Typical.

“Blaise,” I say, a bit louder this time, my voice rough from lack of sleep.

He groans, pulling a pillow over his face. “Five more minutes, dude. Can’t we just…not today?”

I can’t help the frustrated sigh that slips out. “We need to talk.”

He shifts again, pulling himself upright with a groan. “What, now?” His eyes squint against the dim light, his hair a mess. “I swear, Xar, you’re worse than my mother when it comes to wanting to talk.”

I don’t laugh. I’m not in the mood for jokes right now. “I’m going back to the farmhouse.”

That gets his attention. His eyes snap open, a flicker of confusion crossing his features. “What? You’ve got to be joking.” He sits up, stretching and rubbing his eyes. “We just got here. We need to focus on the album, man. We don’t have that much time.”

“I know,” I mutter, running a hand through my hair. “But something’s not right. I can’t get her out of my head. I’ll be useless anyway, unless I know she’s alright.”

Blaise stares at me for a beat, then groans and rubs his eyes. “You’re not seriously going back there, are you?”

“I have to. I don’t think she’s okay. She was…scared. And we made it worse.” I pause, my voice quieting, as the weight of the words settles in. “I don’t care if it’s awkward or uncomfortable, I need to check on her.”

Blaise blinks, his expression softening just a bit, though his words are still teasing. “So, what, you’re going to go back and rescue the damsel in distress? Is that it?”

“I’m not going to rescue her,” I snap, though the words come out too sharp. I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “I just…I need to make sure she’s okay. That we didn’t do more damage than intended.”

Blaise sighs, looking like he wants to argue more but sensing that it won’t do any good. “Fine,” he mutters, pushing himself upright and stretching his arms above his head. “But I’m not happy about it.”

“You don’t have to be,” I say, standing and heading for the door. “But I’m going. You can either come with me or stay here and wait for me to get back.”

Blaise hesitates but climbs out of bed, stark bollock naked and as shameless as the day he was born, running a hand through his dishevelled hair. “You’re really not going to let this go, are you?”

“No,” I reply firmly. “And put some fucking clothes on, dickhead.”

He grumbles under his breath, but I catch the edge of concern in his eyes before he nods. “Right. Fine. But if we’re going back to that farmhouse and playing hero, I’m driving. I’m not letting you get us lost again.”

I open the door, my boots thudding against the floor as I step into the hallway. “Deal.”

It doesn’t take long for Dane to wake up. He’s always been an early riser despite being a night owl, even when we were younger and the world was spinning too fast for any of us to keep up. I swear he never sleeps more than two or three hours a night, and yet, he’s always able to function perfectly.

He’s in the kitchen, sipping strong black coffee, before Blaise and I even make it down the stairs.

“Where are we going?” Dane asks, glancing over the rim of his mug.

His eyes flick over us both, and I can tell he already knows what’s coming.

He’s dressed for the day, sure, but he also has his black boots and leather motorcycle jacket on, so I know he’s ready to leave the house before I even say a word.

“I’m going back to the farmhouse,” I say, keeping my tone steady.

Dane sets his coffee down, his face unreadable for a moment. “You’re serious?”

“I can’t stop thinking about her,” I admit, my gaze steady as I look at both of them. “I need to make sure she’s okay.”

Dane’s gaze softens, and he glances out the window for a moment, taking in the misty morning before speaking. “I didn’t like how things ended last night. I’ll come with you.”

“Good,” I reply, grateful that he’s not arguing. “Let’s go then. We’ll figure it out on the way.”

Blaise grabs the keys from the counter and heads for the door, muttering under his breath. “You two are both mad. But I already said I’ll drive. Least I can do.”

As we walk out into the damp morning, the chill in the air sharp against my skin, I feel something shift in me. The weight of it, that gnawing feeling in my gut, has lessened now that I’ve made the decision. We’re going back. We’re going to check on her.

And hopefully, when we do, we’ll find that maybe – just maybe – she’s ready to let us help her.