Home. The word hangs in the air.
I swallow, throat clicking dry despite the humidity. “The Omega house has professionals who can help you.”
“I don’t need professionals.” His voice slips into an intimate husk, one that never failed to undo me before. “I need my Alpha.”
The traffic light ahead turns yellow, then red. I brake slowly, the truck settling into stillness at the deserted intersection.
“I’m not your Alpha.”
Auren’s reflection in the passenger window shows a flash of irritation before he schools his emotions to only show hurt. “You promised you’d always take care of me.”
The light turns green, and I tap the accelerator, the truck lurching forward with moreforce than necessary, rainwater spraying from beneath the tires. Auren’s body sways with the motion, and this time, his wince might be genuine.
“The Omega house will connect you with resources and counseling,” I say. “You’ll need that now.”
“I don’t want counseling,” he spits, the mask slipping. “I want?—”
“We’re almost there,” I cut him off.
Auren falls silent, his breathing ragged. His lavender hair hangs in damp strands, water from the brief dash to the truck gathering at the tips and dripping onto his blanket.
I turn onto Oak Street, the Omega protective house waiting three blocks ahead. I had called from the hospital while filling out the discharge paperwork, so they knew to expect us, despite the late hour.
“They’ll lock me away.” Auren curls in on himself, appearing smaller. “Like I’m broken.”
“No one’s locking you away,” I say, the first crack of emotion bleeding into my words. “They’re giving you a safe place to stay until you decide what you want to do next.”
The rain eases as we approach, and a sturdy craftsman house comes into view, warm lightspilling from curtained windows. The sight of it loosens a knot between my shoulder blades.
“You’re abandoning me.” Auren’s whisper carries above the road noise. “After everything.”
I pull into the driveway, tires crunching on wet gravel, the engine idling. Every instinct says I could still drive away, could still give in to the years of conditioning that are screaming at me to protect, to soothe, to fix.
“No.” I kill the engine. “I’m setting us both free.”
Auren sucks in a breath. “You don’t mean that.”
For the first time since the hospital, I turn to face him head-on, and the pure, cold rage I see chills me before it disappears again beneath a new rush of wide-eyed vulnerability.
I unbuckle my seatbelt, the click loud in the sudden quiet of the cab. Auren doesn’t move, his body a study in reluctance, each muscle tensed in silent protest.
“We should go in,” I say, reaching for the door handle.
His cold, slender fingers catch my wrist. “Please don’t do this.”
I pull away, my skin crawling in the place he touched me. Nothing about this Omega tempts me anymore. I’ll see him to safely inside the Omegaprotective house, then I will close the door on this part of my life and finally move on.
I grab the leather satchel with his change of clothes and push my door open, raindrops pelting me as I step out.
For a moment, I think Auren will refuse to leave my truck, and I’ll be forced to call the police to have him removed. But he must decide to spare us both the indignity as he slides out, the blanket still clutched around him.
The porch light flickers on as we approach, a motion sensor announcing our arrival. Auren trails behind me, his footsteps dragging across wet gravel. Water drips from his lavender hair, trailing down his neck, and he shivers nonstop.
Before we reach the steps, the front door swings open. Warm light spills out, outlining a woman in the doorway. Tight coils of hair frame her head, and the blue wool sweater she’s wearing is thinned and frayed at the elbows, softened by years of use.
“Ms. Wilson?” she calls over the rain, lifting a hand in greeting. “I’m Maria from Safe Harbor House. We spoke earlier.”
I climb the steps, aware of Auren shuffling pathetically behind me. “Thank you for meeting us so late.”