Page 94 of One Way Out

He recommends lots of nesting, cuddles, and constant access to our pheromones to lessen her symptoms.

We follow his instructions to a T, and just over a week after her appointment, the post-heat cramps start. Once they do, she feels a lot better. The fevers stop, she slowly regains her appetite, and her instincts settle enough that she can let us out of her sight without having a panic attack.

She still has leftover trauma to process from the kidnapping and everything that happened after. We all try to gently guide her toward the possibility of therapy, but so far, she’s shut that idea down.

Shaw and Valor hover and worry to the point I have to remind them that she’s still recovering from the world’s longest, most erratic heat. She’s also bleeding and dealing with the post-heat cramps.

Omegas don’t just hunker down during their heat, they’re given time off to recover at home after. Once all of that comes to an end, her instincts will lessen. Right now, she wants her alphas close so she knows we’re safe, and she doesn’t want to leave the apartment. It’s a biological response.

Unless she does virtual counseling, she would have to leave what she considers her nest. So I’ve been pushing them to back off, at least for now. We’ll revisit it again when she’s had time to process everything that happened and decide for herself if it’s necessary.

It still blows my mind how much she seems to love our tiny-ass apartment. At first, I thought she was fibbing to protect our feelings, but the bond says she really does like it here.

It kills me.

I know how she grew up.

Shaw and I only kept this place to have somewhere to land between jobs. In no way is it built to house five adults, but I think she’s happy just knowing we’re all together.

That still doesn’t mean we aren’t going to buy her a decent place as soon as we can, because we definitely are. We’re just stuck in a holding pattern at the moment since Saylor has made it clear she wants to contribute money toward any house we buy.

We had no problem getting Omen and Valor through customs at the airport in New York, and our pack marriage paperwork has been approved in the electronic system. We just need to wait for the paper copies with the seal to come in. Once that’s done, Saylor can start the process of accessing her trust fund.

Shaw and I haven’t been back to work, and Easton knows we don’t plan to. At least, not in the same capacity we were before. If he needs us for a job here or there, I’m happy to work on a case-by-case basis, but I’m not doing full-time security for anyone but Saylor.

That’s why my stomach is currently in knots.

Easton called me and Shaw into the office, and he wasn’t in the mood to take no for an answer.

Saylor lies on the couch with her head against Valor’s chest and her feet resting in Omen’s lap. She’s got a brave face on, but she’s still just as terrible at blocking her emotions in the bond.

Truthfully, I hope she never gets the hang of it. Being able to tell when something is bothering her is a gift because she’s not always in the right headspace to verbalize what the problem is.

Shaw bends down, marking her cheeks with his pheromones. He runs his thumb over her jaw and gives her a quick kiss before standing. “We won’t be gone more than two hours, even if it pisses Easton off. If he won’t shut up, we’ll just get up and walk out.”

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “Don’t do that. We owe him for all his help getting Valor and Omen papers.”

I sigh and squat down in front of her. “I love you, sweet girl. We’ll be home soon.” Rather than giving her the chance to say it back, I push my lips to hers and send her a glimpse of my emotions in the bond.

“For the love of God,” Omen says, laughing. “You’re all so dramatic. They’re headed into the office. Not going on a one-way trip to another planet.”

Saylor smacks his arm as I pull back to breathe.

“I love you too,” she whispers, nodding frantically.

My chest gets warm and fuzzy.

That’s exactly what I needed before getting my ass handed to me by my boss.

* * *

Shaw and I lean against the wall in Easton’s office. Easton sits on one side of the desk and the senator is on the other.

Saylor’s father officially understands we bonded his daughter, and he’s tossed every vile accusation in the book at us over the last ten minutes.

We’ve defended our character, but the man won’t hear anything we have to say.

“I welcomed you into myhome,” he snarls, jabbing a finger toward us. “Trusted you with mydaughter.”

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