Page 113 of Storm

Storm practically vibrates with excitement, her wild curls bouncing as she nods. "That's perfect. Thank you, Reed."

He reaches out, his large hand covering hers where it rests on the countertop. The gesture is possessive yet gentle. "Of course," he says, his voice rougher than usual. "She's important to you."

The simple statement hangs in the air, revealing more about Reed's feelings than any passionate declaration could. I exchange a glance with Alex, who looks as surprised as I feel.

Storm seems equally affected, her scent shifting to something warmer, richer as she turns her hand beneath Reed's, squeezing his fingers briefly before pulling away. It reminds me of how I felt when Alex first showed me kindness, that disbelief, that cautious hope.

"Well," Alex says after a moment, breaking the charged silence. "Who's helping with dishes?"

The mundane question breaks the tension, drawing laughs from everyone as we begin clearing the table. As I gather plates, I find myself smiling at how easily we've fallen into these domestic routines, how natural it feels to move around each other in the shared space.

This is what pack should be, I realize. The thought bringing an unexpected lump to my throat. Not the rigid hierarchies the system tries to enforce, not the arrangements of alphas, betas, and omegas fulfilling pre-set roles. Just people who choose each other, who create their own bonds based on genuine connection rather than designation.

I glance at Storm as she bumps her hip playfully against Frankie's, making him laugh as they rinse plates at the sink. At Reed, who watches her with that intense gaze that tries and fails to hide what he feels. At Alexander, my Alex, who catches my eye and grins, understanding without words what I'm feeling.

For the first time since being rescued from that underground room. I feel truly, completely free. Not just safe, not just protected, but free to explore, to connect, to build something new alongside these people who are becoming more than pack.

We're becoming family. A family I chose.

A family where I'm not hidden away in shame, where my designation doesn't define my worth, where I can flirt with a beta without fear. Where Storm can be fierce and independent, where Alex can be gentle, where Reed can show tenderness, where Jonathan can use his commanding strength to protect rather than control, and where Rook's playful devotion to Storm reminds us all of what loyalty truly means.

I watch as Frankie glances over his shoulder at Alex and me, that spark of interest still evident in his eyes, and I feel a rush of gratitude so powerful it nearly overwhelms me. This moment, this simple domestic scene of washing dishes and teasing conversation, would have been unimaginable to me a year ago.

This is freedom. To love. To belong.

Chapter31

Storm

The cramps hit just after lunch—a dull, throbbing ache that starts low in my belly and radiates outward. I curl tighter around myself on the window seat in my bedroom, watching raindrops chase each other down the glass as another wave of discomfort rolls through me.

Pre-heat symptoms. My first heat is approaching. The realization sends a shiver of fear up my spine that rivals the pain.

I press my forehead against the cool glass, trying to steady my breathing. The room feels all wrong suddenly—too empty, too impersonal. My hands twitch with the urge to gather soft things, to build a safe space, to create a nest. But I have nothing here, nothing that feels right.

A soft knock at the door draws my attention away from the gathering storm outside.

"Come in," I call, wincing as another cramp tightens my muscles.

Rook pushes the door open, his tall frame filling the doorway before he steps inside. His eyes find me immediately, concern crossing his features as he takes in my hunched position.

"Hey," he says softly, crossing the room to kneel beside my window seat. "Fox said you disappeared after lunch. Everything okay?"

I shake my head, unable to hide the discomfort from the person who knows me better than anyone. "Pre-heat," I admit, my voice strained. "The suppressants aren't working anymore. It's starting, Rook."

Understanding dawns in his dark eyes, followed by a flash of concern. He reaches out, his large hand covering mine where it rests against my stomach. "Can I help?"

"I'm scared," I whisper, the admission feeling raw in my throat. "I've never—I don't know what to do. I feel like I need to gather things, but nothing feels right. The room is all wrong." I gesture helplessly around me.

"A nest," Rook says with sudden comprehension. "You need to build a nest."

I nod, embarrassed by the instinct but unable to deny it.

"Please," I say, turning my hand to grip his. "Stay with me for a while. It hurts less when you're here."

He moves to sit beside me on the window seat, gently pulling me into his lap. The familiar scent of strawberries and cream envelops me, instantly soothing some of the tension from my body. His arms wrap around me, strong and secure, as his chin rests on top of my head.

"How bad is it?" he asks, one hand rubbing slow circles on my lower back.