He blinks, startled, like I pulled him out of a fog. His lips part, but nothing comes out for a second. Then I see it—the shift. He’s not Omega Charlie right now. He’s the trained caretaker, the one who knows what to do when instinct and panic override everything else inside an omega.
“This was your job,” I remind him, voice tight but steady. “Tell me what she needs.”
Charlie straightens. “We’ve done everything I can think of,” he says quickly. “We gave her a mild sedative. Cold compress to the face. Oli’s touch, his purring—it helped a little. But she’s still stuck.”
“Stuck?” I echo.
He nods. “Her body thinks she’s still in danger. She can’t come down from her distress. We could try a shower. Cold water sometimes helps shock the system back into regulation. But—” he hesitates “—sometimes it just makes them more alert, which can make the distress worse. It’s not a guarantee.”
I don’tneedguarantees.
I slide my arms under my omega—one behind her back, one under her knees—and lift her off the couch. Her tiny body folds into me like she doesn’t even know she’s being moved.
Oli starts to rise, but I shake my head. “I’ve got her. Prepare her nest.”
And then I carry her straight into the bathroom.
The light flickers on as I shoulder the door open. I sether gently on the bench inside the walk-in shower and turn the water to cold. It stings my hand for a second before it evens out. Sharp. Bracing.
“Autry,” I whisper, dropping to my knees again. “Baby, look at me.”
She doesn’t.
I slide my hand under her chin and lift carefully until her face tilts up. Her eyes don’t quite focus, but I help her to her feet anyway. I tug off her shirt and leggings, moving as fast as I can, Then I ease her under the spray, soaking my suit straight through to my skin.
The cold water hits Autry’s bare arms and scalp, saturating her hair in seconds. She trembles—and then, slowly…slowly… I watch her tip her head back. She stays like that.
Breathing.
Not gasping. Not choking.
Finally breathing.
My shoulders drop a fraction, but then irrational anger grips. I have to push back the urge to snap at the rest of my pack. They should have done this hours ago. But I can’t be too upset with them. Oli and Charlie are both only twenty-five. They’re babies, and, despite Charlie’s training, I’m sure he was panicked with Autry being his patient. And Myrick has never been one that can handle an emergency. I love the beta more than life itself, but I would not call on him to help me bury a body.
But none of that matters now.
I’m home.
And now it’s up to me to hold my omega steady in the water and pray that she’ll be okay.
Forty-minutes later, we have Autry settled in her nest. Charlie and Myrick snuggle up against her while she sips acup of chamomile tea. She seems much better, or at least aware of her surroundings.
“Rhett?” Charlie looks up at me with those wide, sad eyes. “Will you grab a new compress? This one’s too warm.”
I take the cloth from his hand, already rising, but before I can leave, Oli steps into the room, a fresh towel in his hands.
“I put ice in the center,” he says, voice low as he hands it over.
“Thank you,” I murmur, passing it back to Charlie before lowering myself to sit back down on the edge of their nest.
Autry probably needs rest—real rest—but we can’t afford to wait. Not after what Donall said. The weight of his words still hangs over us like a tiger waiting to strike.
“Autry?” I angle my head to catch her face, voice gentler now. Her eyes flicker up enough for me to know she’s listening. “We need to talk, omega.”
She nods, eyes fixed on the teacup in her hands. “I know.” Her voice is thin, worn ragged from crying.
I don’t dance around it. “Is what Donall said true?”
