Page 62 of Unhinged

CHAPTER FIFTY

brYDGETT

I blink my eyes open, lashes sticking together, and I’m hit with a wave of scent so thick it almost makes me dizzy.

It’s them. Sandalwood, bergamot and mango, sweat and skin, all tangled up with the sharp citrus and jasmine of my own perfume.

It’s clinging to everything, soaked into the blankets, into the mattress, into me. I’m wrapped in it—wrapped in them .

I realize I’m lying in a nest. Not just some pile of blankets, either.

A real one. Built with care. Pillows fluffed and tucked around me, blankets layered soft and low, clothes that still smell like them scattered like scent markers.

I don’t remember building it. I barely remember getting here.

There are flashes—Gears holding me close, Acid cursing under his breath, Arrow's steady voice in my ear.

Marcus. God, Marcus. He actually saved me.

And then the heat hit full force. After that, everything went foggy.

Touches, gasps, lips, voices. A blur of need and instinct and fire that wouldn’t stop burning.

And now, everything aches. My thighs. My neck.

Between my legs. I shift and feel the soreness right at the center of my core, deep and dull and entirely earned.

First heat in almost a decade. This one with alphas I actually care about. That thought hits harder than I expect. Knocks the breath out of my chest. I care about them.

Gears. Arrow. Acid.

They’re mine. My alphas.

It scares the hell out of me.

But Earl is dead. And I’m still breathing. So maybe it’s time I stop hiding from things that scare me. Maybe it’s time I start living.

Still, I refuse to stop killing.

That part of me isn’t going away. I’ve spent too long sharpening that skill to let it go dull.

There are still alphas out there who deserve to bleed.

Men and women who hurt omegas. Alphas who leave kids shaking in closets.

I’ll keep tracking them. Hunting them. Ending them.

And my alphas? They’re just going to have to learn to love a killer.

I shift gently, careful not to wake the three men tangled around me. Gears is curled against my back, one hand resting possessively on my hip. Arrow’s breath flutters over my collarbone. Acid has an arm slung across my legs like he plans to keep me anchored forever.

It would be easy to stay here.

But my body is stiff. My skin sticky. I need a minute to myself. Just a little space to come back to center.

I slip out from under them slowly, tiptoeing across the wooden floor. I spot the small door I clocked earlier and nudge it open, relieved when I see the sink through the crack. It’s a bathroom. Cramped and ugly, but it’ll do.

I step inside and close the door behind me, not bothering to lock it. We’re past that now. I pee first, sighing at the ache and the release, and then stand, turning on the shower. The pipes rattle a little, but the water runs warm enough when I test it with my hand.

When I step in, I brace both palms against the wall and let the spray hit my back. It feels good.

Blood. Slick. Tears. Scent. Guilt. Relief. Lust.

It runs down the drain, but it doesn’t leave me. Not really.

Because something is different now.

I’m not alone.

And I’m not running anymore.

I don’t turn around when I hear the door creak open. I already know it’s him. Acid’s scent fills the space behind me before I even feel his touch. I keep facing the wall, eyes closed, letting the water run down my back in a slow, steady stream.

He steps into the shower behind me like he belongs there, like there was never a world where he wasn’t pressed up against me.

His arms slide around my waist, pulling me close, his chest solid and comforting against my spine.

He leans down and presses a kiss to the curve of my shoulder.

I hum at the touch, the sound low in my throat, and let myself melt against him.

“You okay?” he murmurs against my skin, voice quiet but heavy.

I nod, eyes still shut. “Yeah.”

He pauses. “You sure?”

The question sits heavy in the steam between us.

“More than sure,” I say. “I’m good. It was good. You three, you were respectful. You took care of me. That’s all I wanted.”

He hums softly, and I can feel the pride in it as much as I can hear it. “That’s what you deserve, Gidge.”

He takes his time helping me wash my hair, his fingers working through the tangles gently, like he’s scared to hurt me.

Nobody’s ever done that for me before. Not like this.

Not slow. Not careful. I stand there in silence, letting it happen, letting him touch me like I’m something fragile.

Maybe I am right now. But not in a broken way. In a healing one.

When I turn around, his eyes meet mine, and neither of us speaks. I lift one leg and hook it over his hip. He catches me by the waist, steady and strong, and I sink down onto him, slow and easy. He fills me completely, but there’s no urgency this time. Just warmth. Just closeness. Just us.

He rests his forehead against mine, his breath mixing with mine in the steam. “I’m in love with you, Gidge,” he says, rough and real. “Every unhinged, murdery bit of you.”

My heart stutters. His words shouldn’t make me emotional, but they do. Maybe because I believe him. Maybe because I know how hard it is for someone like me to be loved at all. A tear slips down my cheek before I can stop it, and he catches it with his thumb, brushing it away like it never happened.

“Say something,” he whispers. “Anything, Omega. I’m a little lost here. This is a first for me.”

“I love you too,” I rasp. It comes out hoarse and raw, like the words don’t know how to exist on my tongue yet. But I mean them. I mean them so much it hurts.

My body tenses, and I come with a cry. I try to bite back, but he kisses me, swallowing the sound. He holds me close, moving with me slow and deep, and I don’t want it to end. But when I pull away, I know what I want next.

“Mark me, Acid,” I whisper, breath shaking. “I want everyone to know I’m yours.”

His arms tighten around me, but his voice stays soft. “We don’t have to, Gidge. We’ve got time.”

“I want to,” I tell him, urgency creeping into my voice. “I want this to be real. To be forever. Mark me, Alpha.”

He doesn’t hesitate again. He lowers his head and sinks his teeth into the curve of my left shoulder, right at the collarbone. The pain is sharp, blooming hot under my skin, but it’s nothing compared to what it gives me…him.

I cry out as his knot locks inside me and the bond hums to life, full and unbreakable. I feel it settle into my bones, my blood, my heart. He licks the wound clean, sealing it, and I lean into him as the heat between us begins to fade.

We just stay like that, stuck together, not moving, like something deep inside us doesn’t want to let go. It’s more than just heat stuff or instinct. It’s...bigger. I don’t have the right words for it, but it’s there, and it’s real. His knot softens eventually, but I’m not ready to let go.

Before he can move, I wrap my arms around his neck and sink my teeth into the side of his neck, right where a hickey would go—but this one’s not fading. It’s deep enough to last. Permanent. Mine.

He groans, low and rough, his hands gripping my hips as I hold on, and when I pull back, I lick the mark to seal it.

The bond between us isn’t just a spark anymore—it’s alive. Loud. Real. One-third of me is locked in place.