Page 20

Chapter 20

Oliver

For two days we've waited. First to be released from the DRA's clutches and then for her body to be well enough to wake from her nightmare.

And as I lean against the hospital room wall, finally Harlow’s eyes flutter open as deep vanilla notes swirl through the air.

She’s pure omega now, no artificial alpha notes masking her delicious perfume.

“Carver,” she whispers.

Sweat beads on her forehead as another wave of designation fever wracks her body.

Parker’s jaw tightens. He shifts his weight, blocking Carver’s path to her bed. “You need to rest first.”

The medical equipment beeps steadily in the background, but my focus is entirely on Harlow’s awakened omega senses. And I'm going to trust the process.

“Parker,” I murmur, touching his arm. “Let him through.”

“She’s pack,” he growls.

“She’s his,” I counter quietly. “Has been since they were kids. You can smell it.”

Harlow’s breathing quickens as another fever spike hits. “Please,” she whispers. “I need...”

“I’m here.” Carver pushes past Parker, taking her hand. “Thank god, Harlow. I thought—” A single tear drops on her cheek.

The instant connection between them is visible—her body relaxing, his tension easing.

I pull Parker back, giving them space. Sometimes being a good alpha means knowing when to step aside.

“Shush,” she purrs, holding his hand against her heart. “We’re going to be fine.”

“How did your interview go with the DRA?” I ask, taking a step forward, hoping she wants this pack as well as Carver, but I accept they have a history that nobody else shares with her.

“She was convinced I implanted myself.” Harlow laughs weakly, then winces. “Like I’d choose to hide who I really am.” Her hand trembles as she reaches for the water glass.

I grab it first, holding it steady for her. Her skin burns against mine. Is this Harlow’s omega heat starting to build now that her true nature is free?

“I feel so different,” she admits, pressing her palm to her chest. “Everything’s...heightened. Scents, touches. It’s overwhelming.”

Carver kisses her on the lips, drawing a soft whimper from her throat .

The sound strikes something primal in all the alphas in the room, but I recognize what’s happening here. My pack is jealous of Carver. I get it. I’ve seen their connection building since he arrived.

I step back and lean against the wall, watching her nostrils flare as new scents flood her system.

Her delicate fingers wrap around Carver’s wrist, bringing it to her nose. She inhales deeply, eyes fluttering shut. “Coconut...rum...vanilla.” A purr vibrates through her chest. “Mmm…and pineapple.”

All of the scents that I smell on her.

Her turquoise eyes lock with mine.

“Oliver?” She reaches out, beckoning me closer.

I step forward, offering my hand.

Her soft skin slides against mine as she draws my wrist to her face. Another deep inhale. “Vanilla and coconut.” Her tongue darts out, tasting my pulse point. “And a hint of pineapple.”

Parker grunts, shifting his weight. The alpha tension in the room thickens.

Harlow doesn’t hesitate. She turns to Asher next, repeating the scenting ritual. Her breath catches as she tells him he has the same scent as mine.

Asher catches his breath as she reaches for Parker.

Parker's stern expression softens as she presses her nose against his skin, breathing him in. Her chest rises and falls rapidly as understanding dawns in her eyes.

The door behind me creaks open, interrupting whatever revelation was about to spill from her lips.

I stand frozen as her ex-boyfriend, Colton bursts into the room, pushing past Parker. The antiseptic smell now mingles with his aggressive alpha scent, making my nostrils flare.

My fists clench as he rushes to Harlow’s bed .

“Baby, I’m so sorry.” He presses his lips against hers, and my stomach turns. “Please come back to me.”

I step forward, ready to put Colton through the wall, but Parker’s sharp intake of breath and a shake of his head stops me.

His eyes are wide, fear rolling off him in waves as he clutches Jagger closer.

Asher’s usually calm demeanor cracks, his shoulders tense as he steps forward.

The air is thick with alpha pheromones, all of us responding to her omega scent, now pure and unmistakable as we wait. Not only waiting for how she reacts to Colton but also letting her process this new reality at her own pace.

Well, one of us doesn’t wait.

Carver moves like lightning from the other side of the room, yanking him back. “Get your hands off her.”

“She’s mine,” Colton snarls, trying to break free from Carver’s grip. “You stole her from me. You set me up with that omega.”

“You took the bait.” Carver smiles as he glances at me. “I was sick of waiting, and I overheard you talking to Jenson about not knowing how long you could wait until you needed an omega. You were going to ask Harlow’s permission to take an omega.” Carver laughs. “She never would have agreed, so I made it easy for you.”

Harlow narrows her eyes as she stares at Carver.

“You set up your own brother. You stole my girlfriend. Harlow’s mine. Not fucking yours,” Colton hisses. “My omega.”

“No.” Carver’s voice drops dangerously low. “She’s been mine since we were kids. You knew that when you stole her from me. I told you I was waiting for her.”

My heart pounds as Harlow reaches for Carver’s hand, her delicate fingers intertwining with his. The gesture should crush me, but something in her scent and the way her pupils enlarged as she inhaled each of our scents, tells me to wait.

Asher moves forward, his usual hesitation gone as he takes Harlow’s other hand, his voice steady and sure. “She’s ours, Carver. Not yours.”

The air crackles with tension as Carver’s tongue darts out, wetting his lips. His coconut and rum scent spikes with aggression, but there’s something else there too. A hint of uncertainty as he watches Asher stroking Harlow’s hand with such tenderness that his alpha must want to make his omega happy.

I glance at Parker, who’s looking down at Jagger with a small smile playing on his lips. He feels it too, and for the first time since this chaos started, hope blooms in my chest.

Harlow’s eyes lock with Colton’s, her voice just a murmur. “What’s my scent?”

The question hangs in the air like a guillotine about to drop. Colton’s face softens with memories.

“That’s easy.” He grins. “Coconut and vanilla.”

Harlow returns his smile. “Add rum and pineapple to that, and you’ll find Carver’s scent.”

My chest tightens because I know what she is saying.

Harlow shakes her head. “But it’s not yours. Your scent is Amaretto with coke and vanilla.”

The realization hits Colton like she just punched his stomach and he stumbles back, his face draining of color. “You’re not... we’re not...”

“No,” Harlow whispers. “We’re not scent matches.”

Colton’s shoulders slump. His voice breaks. “I thought you’d smell me the same. When you were fourteen, I caught your scent, and I was so sure it was vanilla...” He runs a hand through his hair. “Then it disappeared, and I convinced myself it didn’t matter because I loved you, anyway.”

My heart clenches for him, despite everything.

Damn, I must be getting soft.

The door swings open, and the scent of coffe e fills the room, overtaking the multitude of scents in the room.

Harlow’s sister, Bardot walks in.

Every alpha in the room turns to look at her, including me, and my breath catches. She’s not mine, but she is Harlow’s mirror image, and at the same time different—wilder, less controlled—platinum blonde hair instead of dark brown, but those same beautiful eyes.

Their mother follows close behind as Bardot approaches the bed. She hands Harlow a coffee. “How are you feeling, sis? An omega, eh!”

Harlow’s eyes sweep across the room, taking in each of us. Taking her alphas in, though none of us have claimed her yet or even told her she is ours.

But she knows.

And we’re all here, all wanting her, all holding back.

“I’m fine now,” she says. “I feel good. The same, but...different.”

Harlow’s eyes meet mine, her smile soft and genuine and my stomach does a backflip. I have to fight to keep my composure.

She gives that same smile to Asher, who straightens his spine, then to Parker, whose usual stern expression melts. Even Carver’s possessive stance relaxes under her gaze.

But it’s when she spots Jagger peeking out from behind Parker’s legs that her whole face lights up.

“There you are. I hoped you’d come to see me.”

“You did?” Jagger’s small voice pipes up as he inches forward.

“Of course.”

“Can I sit next to you? ”

She pats the hospital bed. “Come here.”

Jagger scrambles up, and Harlow plants a kiss on his head. The kid beams like he’s just won the Stanley Cup, and I can’t help but notice how each of us—her alphas—mirror that same joy.

Bardot perches on the other side of the bed, grabbing her sister’s hand. “God, I’ve missed you so much. When are you coming home?”

“I like it here,” Harlow whispers.

“You’re staying?” Bardot’s voice hitches as she looks at Carver and then me, Oliver and Asher. “Oh. At least you won’t steal my clothes now?”

“Have you seen your outfits?” Harlow laughs, but there are tears in her eyes.

“Bitch,” Bardot whispers, pulling her into a hug.

Their mother steps closer, and Harlow’s composure crumbles completely. “Mom—”

“I’ve got you, baby.” Her mother wraps her arms around both daughters. “And I’m so sorry about what I had to do.”

“We haven’t told her everything yet,” Carver interrupts, his voice tight. “About what you told me.”

Harlow’s face crumples as her mother’s words sink in. “What do you mean, you did what you had to?”

The room goes silent except for the steady beep of the heart monitor. I watch Harlow’s face carefully, seeing questions from behind her eyes as she looks between her mother and Carver.

“The implant.” Her mother’s voice wavers. “It was done when you were fourteen. I wanted you implanted before your omega symptoms started. And you and Bardot both wanted piercings for your birthdays.” Her mom swallows. “It was perfect.”

Harlow gasps and her scent spikes with distress, and although my alpha instincts surge, I grip the bed rail to keep from reaching for her .

“You…drugged me?” Her voice cracks.

Her mom shakes her head, and her chin trembles. “I never drugged you. I never needed to. The clamp was enough pain relief.”

“But why?” She starts panting, her body temperature rising visibly as her skin flushes. Her omega nature showing as emotions overwhelm her.

Asher moves forward with a cool cloth, but Carver beats him to it, pressing a damp cloth against her forehead.

Her mother collapses into the chair, tears streaming down her face.

“My mother...she was claimed by a pack. And not willingly.” She takes a shuddering breath. “I couldn’t let that happen to my daughters. I couldn’t let any of my children feel what I felt growing up.”

“Mom...” Harlow’s anger melts into horror.

“You’re going to be in trouble if you admit it,” Bardot whispers. “The DRA will—”

“They won’t touch her.” Carver’s voice is steel. “We’ll handle it.”

As her sister’s distress peaks, Bardot’s scent shifts, becoming sweeter.

Interesting.

“Mom,” Bardot’s voice shakes as she stares at her mother. “You said daughters. But Grace was a beta. She presented late, but she was a genuine beta.”

Their mother swallows hard, guilt etched across her face. She’s silent for a moment.

“Mom—” Harlow murmurs. “You said daughters. I have a piercing.”

Their mom sighs as she turns back to Bardot. “You’re an omega too, Bardot.”

The room goes dead silent .

I watch Bardot’s face drain of color as she processes this bombshell. And then she crumples, her legs giving out.

Colton catches her before she hits the floor, her body trembling against his.

“I was always jealous of omegas.” Tears roll down her cheeks as Colton helps her stand again. “The way they could just…feel. Everything seemed so intense for them.” Bardot hiccups. “And now you’re telling me I am one?”

Her fingers clutch Colton’s shirt as she steadies herself.

I pick up a char and take it to her. “Sit down.”

“Where’s my implant?” Bardot’s voice cracks as she wipes her eyes, her body still shaking as she touches the top of her ear and the stud there.

Their mother’s face is drawn with guilt. “Your belly button ring is your implant.”

Bardot’s hand flies to her navel, fingers fumbling with the small silver hoop. Her breathing quickens as she tries to remove it.

“Not here.” Their mother grabs her hands. “We’ll need to monitor you to make sure you don’t react the same way as Harlow. Please wait.”

“I suspect she reacted because of me,” Carver says, his thumb stroking Harlow’s knuckles.

“Because of us,” I correct him, meeting his gaze.