The table could easily seat twelve, maybe fifteen if children were willing to squeeze together, and I imagined what family dinners might look like here. Bennett at the head, his peppermint scent mixing with whatever Dante had prepared from the professional-grade stove. Angus telling stories in his thick Scottish accent while the children giggled at the voices he created for different characters. Cole quietly ensuring everyone had enough to eat, his toffee scent warm and comforting as he moved among chairs to check on smaller appetites.
And me at the center of it all, surrounded by the men who'd claimed me and the children I'd claimed in return,my strawberry and cream scent mixing with theirs to create something new, permanent and safe. The image made my heart pound with joy so intense it felt like physical pain, like hope I hadn't dared to nurture since the first social worker had explained that Omega futures were determined by pack placement rather than personal choice.
A warm feeling spread through my chest as I realized how completely they'd accepted not just me but my entire makeshift family. Most Alphas would have seen seven traumatized children as obstacles to overcome or burdens to be managed. But Bennett had immediately started planning renovations to accommodate individual bedrooms, Dante had fed them with the same care he showed me, Angus had carried Loubie Lou like she was precious cargo, and Cole had treated their injuries with gentle hands that spoke of genuine concern.
They could have claimed me and insisted the children be placed elsewhere, could have demanded I choose between my pack bond and my maternal instincts. Instead, they'd embraced the chaos and responsibility, had made space in their lives and home for a family that came pre-built and trauma-bonded.
Opening the massive refrigerator was like discovering buried treasure. Shelves stocked with fresh produce: dairy products that hadn't been stretched to last beyond their expiration dates, meats that looked pricey. The freezer held enough food to feed us for months, and the pantry... well, when I finally worked up the courage to explore its depths, I found it was stocked like they'd been preparing for a siege or a very large, starving family.
I ran my fingers over packages of pasta in shapes the children had never seen, cans of vegetables that weren't dented or marked down for quick sale, spices and seasonings that would transform basic ingredients into meals worthy of celebration. Everything needed to create not just sustenance but genuineabundance, to show the children that scarcity was behind them now.
Standing in the center of all this plenty, surrounded by evidence of planning and care, of resources I'd never dreamed of having access to, I felt butterflies fluttering in my stomach, alongside the warm feeling in my chest that spoke of belonging somewhere, being valued by someone, and mattering in ways that went beyond simple biological compatibility.
They'd done this for me. For us. Had created a sanctuary where healing could happen and families could grow without the constant fear of losing everything to forces beyond our control.
I just needed them to come home safe so we could begin building the life they'd made possible.
Chapter 32
Heather
The sound of the front door opening sent my heart pounding with delight and terror. Heavy footsteps echoed across the hardwood floors, followed by lighter ones that seemed hesitant, uncertain, as though their owners weren't sure they were allowed to enter a place this beautiful. I abandoned the kitchen with its abundance, my bare feet silent as I rushed toward the foyer with hope and fear warring in my chest.
Bennett appeared first, his solid frame filling the doorway like a fortress made flesh. Behind him came Dante, his marshmallow sweetness subdued but present, his gentle hands guiding small figures whose faces I couldn't yet see. But it was the flash of wild red hair that made my breath catch.
"Susie," I breathed, and then she was moving toward me with the quick, awkward steps of someone whose body was hurting.
I ran to her, my arms opening, needing to hold her and confirm that she was real, whole, breathing, and alive. The impact of her running into my outstretched arms sent relief flooding through me so completely it made my knees like jelly, threatening to drop us both to the marble floor in a tangle of tears and desperate gratitude.
"I'm never letting you go," I whispered into her hair, breathing in her lemon scent. "Never, never, never."
She melted into my embrace for a moment, her arms wrapping around my waist with a desperate strength that spoke of hours spent believing she might never feel safe touches again. But then she pulled back, laughing despite the tears that tracked down her cheeks, her familiar teenage spirit reasserting itself even in the aftermath of trauma.
"I still need to breathe, you know," she said, but her smile was radiant, transforming her soot-streaked features into something that reminded me why I'd fallen in love with her fierce independence from the moment she'd arrived at the orphanage.
It was then that I truly saw the others... six young women clustered behind Dante like frightened shadows, their ages ranging from barely thirteen to perhaps seventeen. Their bodies told stories I didn't want to read but couldn't ignore. Hollow cheeks spoke of starvation, rope burns marked wrists that had been bound too long, and their scents carried the chemical markers of terror, despair, and violations that would require years to heal.
My hand covering my mouth couldn't quite muffle the sharp intake of breath that escaped when I took in their condition. These weren't just rescued captives; these were children who'd been broken down into nothing more than merchandise, their humanity stripped away by men who saw omega biology as an opportunity.
"Who are these poor girls?" I asked, though part of me already knew the answer from the way they pressed together for comfort, from the careful way they avoided eye contact, from the flinching that preceded any sudden movement.
Susie's expression grew serious, her teenage attitude giving way to a more protective version of herself. "They were in therewith me," she said simply. "In the cages. They helped me, helped me stay alive while we were all..." She swallowed hard, unable to finish the sentence, but I could fill in the blanks with horror stories.
"They kept me sane," she continued, her voice gaining strength as she looked at each face with genuine affection. "When I wanted to give up, they reminded me that you'd come for me. That I had a family worth surviving for."
