Page 113 of Omega Hunted

The kitchen still smelled of Soren’s half-burned bread. Asha’s crib sat by the range where it lived now, and the wolf mug sat drying by the sink. I sat on the sofa in the corner, picked up a sleepy Asha, and pulled Soren onto my lap and we cuddled together in the warmth.

I worried about Boston, the Kastor family, Wren Dalton, and Ronan’s silence, and everything still circling us that hadn’t shown its face yet, but with Soren in my arms and little Asha safe, I was at peace for a while.

“I was thinking about Franco today. And Yannick.”

I knew who Yannick was—the omega who’d died at Center 14—but Franco was a new name.

“Franco?”

“He wasn’t pregnant; he was… I had to leave him. Do you think he’s okay?”

“Center 14 is closed, same as all the other centers. I’m already working on getting information on the omegas there with you.” I’d owe The Archivist a shit ton of favors, and probably a huge financial settlement after all this, but I’d have everything I needed soon.

“And we’ll find them? And Yannick’s twins and his family?”

“Yes.”

He buried his face in my neck, and I inhaled peaches and Soren, and my world was right. “I love you,” I murmured.

“And we love you right back,” Soren said with a yawn, and then my world—my precious, forever world—Soren and Asha slept in my arms.

Epilogue

SOREN

The argument happened over breakfast, three days after Ronan officially gave up any pretense of ever leaving, and after Brec had informally moved in to live with us, and it started so quietly I almost missed the moment it turned into something else.

“We need a name for this place,” Ronan said, refilling his coffee. “For the Haven paperwork. They’re not going to list us as ‘the house on the mountain’ forever, and I’d rather it come from you than some committee in Boston deciding it for us.”

Cassian didn’t look up from Asha, who had a fist wrapped around his finger and was working herself up to a serious opinion about breakfast being late. “Call it whatever Haven wants.”

“I already know what I want to call it.”

“Then call it that.”

“The Raines Pack,” Ronan said it plainly, the words already worn smooth, like he’d turned them over a hundred times before he ever brought them to the table.

“We’re not a pack.”

“Led by Alpha Raines.”

“Fuck that⁠—”

“Because that’s what this is, whether you’ve put your name on a piece of paper or not. Two former ORT operatives under your roof. Omegas coming through that door by summer who’ll need somewhere safe to land. That’s a pack, Cassian. It just doesn’t have your name on it, because you won’t let it.”

Cassian’s fork hit the plate hard enough that Asha startled and let out a thin, unhappy sound, and Brec, across the table, reached over without a word and settled her before she could work herself into a real cry.

“Don’t,” Cassian said, low.

“Don’t what? Say it out loud?” Ronan didn’t back down, and I felt every muscle in my body go still, that old instinct to make myself small rearing up out of nowhere even though I knew, I knew, neither of them would ever turn any of this on me. “You’ve been running from that word since Raff died, and I let you, because you needed to, and I understood. Three years I let you. But you don’t get to keep doing it now. Not while I’m living in your west wing and Brec’s drawing up plans for a nursery in the east one, and Soren’s wearing your name, and none of us are going anywhere. You already are what you won’t say you are. You refusing it just makes the rest of us have to pretend along with you.” He rubbed his sternum. “I feel you here, and you’re my alpha.”

“That’s not—” Cassian was on his feet, chair scraping back hard enough to wake Asha fully this time, and my heart lurched even though none of it was aimed at me. “You don’t get to decide what I am.”

“Somebody has to, because you sure as hell won’t.”

“I couldn’t stop Raff being killed wearing that word!” It came out of him like something had finally torn loose, loud enough that the whole kitchen went still around it. Brec was already up, bouncing Asha gently, murmuring something too low to hear. Cassian stood there breathing hard, both hands braced on the back of his chair. “I led that team. I made the calls. He trusted every one of them right up until the one that got him killed, and you want me to just pick the title back up like it never cost anybody anything?”

Ronan didn’t flinch, and he didn’t lower his voice either. “I know what it cost. I lost him too. He was my brother before he was your mate, and I don’t get to forget that any more than you do.” His jaw tightened. “But you didn’t kill him, Cassian. Command did. A bad call from people who never once stood in that warehouse, and you’ve spent three years punishing yourself for a decision that was never yours to unmake. I’m done watching you do it. We all are.”