Page 43 of Daisy

My chest tightens as I stare at her small form curled on the bed next to Gunner. Still wearing that oversized terrycloth robe. Still looking like she might shatter if someone breathes wrong. This isn't just any omega we've rescued—this is someone who's been broken by the very people who should have protected her.

The Governor's niece. Promised to strangers like a prize to be won. The full weight of a corrupt system bearing down on her shoulders since she was a child.

And she's terrified of going back.

Gunner lies perfectly still beside her, eyes closed, but tension radiates from every line of his body. His scent carries that protective edge that makes my beta instincts settle. He's already claimed her in his mind. Political consequences be damned.

Cassian shifts in his chair by the window, and I feel the movement through our bond before I see it. The slight tension in his shoulders as he tries to make himself smaller. The way hisamber eyes track Daisy's reaction to his presence from across the room.

She flinches. Actually flinches when he moves, her scent spiking sharp with anxiety. Sweet honeysuckle turning bitter. Vanilla curdling with fear.

I understand her reaction. It still breaks something in my chest to witness it. Cassian is six-foot-eight of barely contained intensity, scarred and towering over her barely-five-foot frame like a mountain of controlled violence. I was scared of him too, at first. Before I learned that underneath all that dangerous energy is someone who'd rather hurt himself than let harm come to anyone he cares about.

But Daisy doesn't know that yet. All she sees is the threat. Where Gunner—the shortest of the alphas but more muscular than even Cassian—radiates this inherent safety that makes you want to trust him, Cassian's presence feels unpredictable. Dangerous. I can understand why she pointed at Gunner this morning and whispered that he felt safe. There's something about him that just screams protection without threat.

Through our bond, I feel Cassian's immediate response. The overwhelming urge to comfort, to protect, to gather her close and prove he's safe. But beneath that, something darker. Pain. Raw and cutting. The devastating realization that his very presence terrifies the omega he desperately wants to shelter.

The knowledge that she's somehow connected to all of them—this scent match phenomenon I've only read about in academic papers—pulses through my thoughts. It should be impossible. But the evidence is right here in how they all responded to her.

"I need to go get you some clothes," I say, keeping my voice level and calm. The way I would speak to a startled animal. "And food. Real food."

Daisy nods quickly, but I catch the flash of panic in her dark eyes. The thought of being left alone with alphas—even ones who've saved her—clearly overwhelms her.

Fascinating. And heartbreaking.

"I'll be okay with Gunner," she whispers, but her voice wavers.

Cassian hears it too. I feel his response through our bond—a sharp twist of pain and protectiveness. He stands abruptly, and I watch Daisy's entire body tense.

"I'll stretch my legs," he says quietly, his voice carefully modulated. "Give you some space."

The immediate relief in her scent is like a knife through our bond. I feel Cassian's heart clench. Feel the way her obvious fear of him cuts deeper than any physical wound ever could. Through our connection, I experience his internal battle—every alpha instinct demanding he stay and prove he's safe, while his desperate need to protect her requires him to be the threat she needs to escape from.

Through our bond, I send him what comfort I can. Understanding. Reassurance. The feeling that this isn't permanent, that she just needs time.

But I feel his response too. The hollow ache of knowing that his scent match is afraid of him. That his presence causes her pain when all he wants is to take her pain away.

He nods once and heads for the door.

I gather my jacket and wallet, already calculating what we'll need. "Lock this behind me. Don't open it for anyone except me, Cassian, Hawk, or Dante."

"Okay," she breathes.

"Gunner's here if you need anything."

The conversationoutside confirms what I already suspected—we're not just dealing with a rescue anymore. We're dealing with a political incident of massive proportions.

Hawk leans against their van, ever watchful. Dante paces like a caged animal. Cassian sits on our cabin steps, head in his hands.

"We need to talk," I say, approaching the group with the measured calm I've learned to project in crisis situations.

"About the fact that we just kidnapped the Governor's niece?" Hawk asks with a grin that's half charm, half trouble. "Gotta say, we don't do anything halfway."

"About the fact that we saved her," I correct, though I understand his concern. "From a system designed to break her."

Dante stops pacing. "You don't understand the scope of this. Governor Crane doesn't just influence policy. He controls infrastructure. Law enforcement. The entire Omega lottery system." His ice-blue eyes are sharp with worry. "When he realizes she's missing..."

"He'll mobilize everything," Cassian finishes roughly.