Page 107 of Lavender and Honey

"We'll handle everything outside this room," Lucian says, addressing both of us now. "Finn will take care of the shop. Soren will run interference if your mother tries to make contact. I'll coordinate with Avery to ensure she knows what's happening." He pauses, his eyes finding mine again. "Unless you'd prefer to call her yourself when you're feeling up to it?"

The thoughtfulness of the question – the care to preserve my agency even while taking over responsibilities – brings a fresh lump to my throat. I shake my head slightly. "You can tell her," I manage, my voice rough. "She'll worry less if she hears from someone... steady."

Lucian nods, understanding passing between us. Avery knows me better than anyone, knows the depth of damage my parents inflicted. She'll appreciate hearing from someone who can reassure her that I'm being cared for, protected.

"The Alphas will take care of the practical matters," Elias says, his voice a warm vibration against my back. "While I take care of you. How does that sound?"

His tone is light, but beneath it lies a genuine question – is this arrangement acceptable to me? Am I comfortable with this division of care? The choice, as always with them, remains mine.

"Good," I whisper, leaning back into his embrace with a deliberate surrender that feels like the bravest thing I've done all day. "It sounds good."

Soren's grin returns full-force, the playful spark reigniting in his purple eyes. "Plus, this way you get the best of both worlds," he says, rising fluidly from his crouched position. "Alpha protection for the boring stuff, and Omega comfort for the important stuff. Win-win."

His lighthearted framing of the situation eases something tight in my chest, a reminder that not everything has to be heavy, that there's still room for joy even amid crisis. I manage a smallsmile in return, grateful for his ability to bring levity without diminishing the significance of what's happening.

"We'll check in regularly," Finn promises, his steady gaze meeting mine. "And if you need anything – anything at all – just say the word."

"Or yell," Soren adds with a wink. "We'll hear you either way."

Lucian shoots them both a look that's half exasperation, half fondness. "What they're trying to say," he clarifies, "is that we're here for you, Lydia. All of us, in whatever capacity you need."

The sincerity in his voice, reflected in the expressions of all three Alphas, wraps around me like a physical embrace. I've spent so long keeping people at arm's length, convinced that vulnerability would lead only to pain. Yet here they are, offering protection without conditions, care without cost, belonging without sacrifice.

"Thank you," I whisper, the words inadequate for the emotion welling inside me. "I don't know what I'd have done if Lucian hadn't come to check on me."

"But he did," Elias murmurs against my hair. "And you're here now. Safe."

Lucian nods, satisfaction evident in the set of his shoulders. "We'll leave you to rest," he says, already moving toward the door. "Elias knows where everything is if you need anything. Food, water, extra blankets."

"I'll take good care of her," Elias promises, his arms tightening fractionally around me. "I'll treat her like the queen she is."

The simple declaration, spoken with such certainty, brings heat to my cheeks. Queen? I've never thought of myself that way – never been treated as someone deserving of such reverence. In my parents' world, Omegas were valuable only as long as they fulfilled their designated roles – decorative, docile, deferential. The idea of being cherished simply for being myself is foreign, jarring in its unfamiliarity.

"Don't let him spoil you too much," Soren teases as he backs toward the door, following Lucian. "He'll have you thinking you deserve the royal treatment all the time."

"Maybe she does," Finn says quietly, surprising me with the conviction in his deep voice. "Maybe we all do, sometimes."

The sentiment – so simple yet so profound – settles into my bones with a rightness I can't explain. Maybe he's right. Maybe there's nothing wrong with allowing myself to be cared for, to be cherished, to be treated like something precious rather than something useful.

The three Alphas pause at the doorway, their gazes meeting mine one last time. There's a unity to them, a shared purpose that speaks of years together, of trust built and maintained through countless challenges. Now that purpose includes me – my safety, my comfort, my wellbeing. The realization is both humbling and empowering, a responsibility I accept even as they shoulder their own.

"Rest well, Lydia," Lucian says softly. "We'll be here when you wake."

With that, they slip out, closing the door behind them with a gentle click that feels like a punctuation mark at the end of the most tumultuous day of my life since I fled my parents' house. In their absence, the room feels both emptier and somehow more intimate – just Elias and me in the nest, wrapped in the blended scents of pack and home and safety.

"They mean it, you know," Elias murmurs, breaking the silence that has settled around us. "Every word, every promise. They'll move mountains to keep you safe."

"But why?" I whisper, the question that's been lingering at the edges of my mind finally finding voice. "Why go to all this trouble for me?"

Elias shifts slightly, adjusting our position so that I'm cradled more comfortably against him. His hand comes up to stroke myhair, fingers tangling gently in the strands with a care that makes my chest ache.

"Because you're worth it," he says simply, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Because from the moment I met you at that market stall, trying so hard to hide behind your scent blockers and careful distance, I knew there was something special about you. Something that called to me, to all of us."

His words unfurl inside me like delicate paper flowers, beautiful and fragile and full of possibility. I've spent so long convinced of my own insignificance, of my value being tied only to what I can produce or provide. The idea that I might be special just for being myself is almost too much to grasp.

"I'm not..." I begin, but Elias cuts me off with a gentle squeeze.

"You are," he insists, his voice kind but firm. "You're strong and talented and brave. You've built a life on your own terms, despite everything that tried to stop you. Do you have any idea how remarkable that is?"

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