Page 49

"Next thing you know, she'll be staying up past bedtime to finish a novel," Miles added, his fingers finally making contact with my shoulder in a gentle, casual touch that sent warmth spreading through me.

"Or wearing jeans," Nicolaus contributed with a rare smile. "The ultimate rebellion against proper omega attire."

I laughed, shaking my head. "I've never actually owned a pair of jeans."

The table suddenly went quiet before Nicolaus spoke up, “We can always get you some when we go shopping again?”

I laughed at the offer but shook my head, “I like my dresses and the slacks and shorts I got today. I don’t think I need to go shopping anytime soon.”

"Fair enough," Miles said, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on my shoulder. "But the offer stands if you ever change your mind."

As we finished our meal, I found myself reluctant for the morning to end. The combination of successful shopping, good food, and easy conversation had created a bubble of contentment I didn't want to burst. But eventually, Christopher pushed back from the table with a satisfied sigh.

"Well, I think we've successfully corrupted our omega with consumer culture and carbohydrates," he announced, earning a light smack on the arm from Julian.

"Don't call her 'our omega,'" Julian chided, though his tone was more amused than stern.

"Why not?" I asked, the words slipping out before I could stop them. "I mean... am I? Yours?…or was I wrong.” The last part came off soft as I looked down at the table.

The question hung in the air between us, more loaded than I'd intended.

Four pairs of eyes turned to me, each filled with varying degrees of surprise, hope, and intensity.

Julian's breath caught audibly, his hazel eyes darkening as they held mine.

Miles's fingers stilled on my shoulder, his touch suddenly more deliberate, more possessive.

"Lilianna," Julian said softly, his voice deeper than usual. "We would very much like you to be ours, but only if that's what you want."

"We've been trying not to pressure you," Christopher added, his usual playful demeanor replaced by something more serious. "You've been through so much change already."

Nicolaus leaned forward slightly, his blue eyes unusually warm. "We wanted to give you time to discover who you are without expectations. To make choices based on your desires, not obligation."

I swallowed, my heart racing beneath my ribs. "And if my desire is to be yours?"

Julian’s eyes were on me, dark as he spoke, “Then we continue to court you until you decide you want us to mark you as ours fully.”

I bit my lip, “I would like that….” For a few minutes, I let myself forget what world we lived in, who they were, and what I was expected to be.

And then it shattered.

I noticed it first—an odd flicker in the reflection of the café’s front window. I glanced up just as Julian’s entire frame went rigid. His eyes darted toward the entrance, sharp and assessing.

Miles was already moving.

“Don’t look up,” he murmured to me as he stood, smoothly stepping between our table and the rest of the restaurant. “We’ve got company.”

My heart jumped, instinctively responding to the tight edge in his voice.

Christopher cursed under his breath and reached into his jacket, pulling out what looked like a pair of tinted glasses. Nicolaus did the same, voice clipped and low as he flagged down the waiter for the check.

“I thought this place was supposed to be private,” I whispered, trying to stay calm, but the buzzing tension around me made my instincts spike. My skin prickled.

“It is,” Julian said tightly, rising from his seat to stand slightly behind me. “But we weren’t exactly subtle walking in with four famous Alphas. They must have followed from the bookstore.” Miles returned just as two sharp clicks echoed outside—the unmistakable sound of camera shutters.

Paparazzi.

They were outside the glass, some pressing close to the windows, phones and lenses flashing as they tried to get a clear shot inside. A few were calling names.

“Julian! Over here!”

“Nicolaus, is that the mystery Omega?!”

“Smile for us!”

I froze.

“It’s okay,” Miles murmured as he leaned down, hand brushing my shoulder with deliberate reassurance. “You’re safe. Let us handle this.” I wanted to believe him. I wanted to trust their calm efficiency and protective gazes, but old instincts warred with new trust. My fingers curled in my lap.

Christopher stood then, broad and steady. “We’ll exit through the back. Lilianna, you stay between me and Julian. Miles will run interference. Nicolaus, get the car.”

“On it,” Nicolaus muttered, already dialing on his phone.

The waiter brought the check—blinking in confusion—and Christopher slid a few bills across the table without looking.

The hostess, clearly flustered, offered a choked apology and pointed toward the back hallway.

I stood, shakily, my legs not quite steady under me.

Julian took my bag from my hands, slinging it over his shoulder while his other arm wrapped securely around my waist.

“You’re alright,” he said, low and steady, like a mantra. “We’ve got you.”

And they did. Every one of them moved like a team.

As we moved through the narrow hallway, flashes still catching behind the café’s windows, I kept my head down.

But part of me left lifted, too—strange and strong.

Because even with the chaos outside, even with my heart racing and my world tilting, I’d chosen the pancakes.

I laughed. I’d lived, even for a little while.

And I wasn’t going back to silence. Not now. Not ever.