Page 63 of Storm
The sound hits me like a wave, triggering every omega instinct I've fought so hard to suppress. My knees go weak, and before I realize what I'm doing, I reach for Frankie's hand, gripping it tightly as I shrink into myself.
The alphas' eyes lock onto our joined hands, and something dangerous flashes across Reed's face. Fear spikes through me. Not for myself, but for Frankie. I let go immediately, scrambling backward until my back hits the wall, putting as much distance between us as possible.
No one moves. The tension in the room is suffocating, the alpha pheromones so thick I can barely breathe through them. My omega instincts are screaming at me to submit, to bare my neck, to beg forgiveness for daring to touch a beta in front of them.
I hate this feeling. Hate how small and helpless they can make me feel with just their presence. I wrap my arms around myself, trying to stop the trembling that's overtaken my body.
Jonathan's expression shifts as he watches me, something like regret flashing across his face. He exchanges a look with Alexander, some silent communication passing between the twins.
"Let him up," Jonathan says suddenly, his voice cutting through the tension.
Reed's head whips around. "You can't be serious?—"
"Let. Him. Up," Alexander repeats Jonathan’s words, his voice firmer than I've ever heard it. He gestures toward me with a nod of his head. "She needs him. Look at her."
Reed's stormy eyes find me, and for a brief moment, I see something flicker there. His jaw tightens, but after a moment, he gives a sharp nod and strides toward the elevator without another word.
The tension in the room eases slightly with his departure, but the lingering scent of angry alphas still makes my skin prickle. I'm frozen in place, afraid to move, afraid to hope that they're actually going to let Rook come up.
"Sit down, Storm," Jonathan says, gesturing toward the couch. It's not quite an alpha command, but it's close enough to make my omega instincts respond automatically. I move to the couch on shaky legs.
Frankie follows, sitting beside me but keeping a careful distance. I want to reach for him again, to anchor myself with his steadying presence, but I'm afraid of setting the alphas off again.
Jonathan sighs, running a hand through his dark hair. "I don't care if you touch the beta," he says, surprising me. "I'm not Reed. Just don't do it in front of my fathers, that's all I ask. You can hold his hand. That's allowed."
I want to snap back that I don't care what's "allowed," that I don't need his permission for anything. But I bite my tongue, knowing that in a few moments, I'm going to see Rook, and that's the only thing that matters right now.
Cautiously, I reach for Frankie's hand again. He takes it, giving a gentle squeeze that calms some of the storm raging inside me. Jonathan watches, his green eyes fixed on our joined hands with an intensity I don't understand.
"Thank you," I manage to say, the words feeling strange in my mouth.
Jonathan nods once, then turns away, moving to stand by the windows with his back to us. Alexander takes up position near the elevator, his posture deceptively relaxed, though I can sense the tension running through him.
The seconds stretch into minutes, each one feeling like an eternity. My heart is beating so hard I'm sure everyone in the room can hear it. Frankie's thumb traces small circles on the back of my hand, a silent comfort I desperately need.
Finally, the elevator pings, and I'm on my feet before I even realize I've moved.
The doors slide open to reveal Reed and Rook, standing as far apart as the small space allows, glaring at each other with barely contained hostility. Reed's hand is visibly gripping Rook's upper arm, his knuckles white with the force of it.
But I barely register any of that, because there he is. Rook. My Rook.
He's wearing a black hoodie that's seen better days, worn jeans, and scuffed boots—exactly the Rook I remember, though somehow he looks older, harder. His dark eyes flash with fury as he glowers at Reed, his jaw set in the stubborn line I know so well.
"Rook," I manage to choke out. His name a prayer on my lips.
His head snaps toward me, and the transformation is instant. The anger melts away, replaced by such raw emotion that it steals my breath. He tears his arm from Reed's grip with a force that makes the alpha growl a warning.
"Storm," he breathes, and then he's moving, and I'm moving. I let go of Frankie's hand as I run toward him.
Reed says something sharp and commanding, but I don't hear the words, don't care about anything except reaching Rook. The world narrows to just him, just us, everything else falling away.
We collide in the middle of the room, and I launch myself into his arms without hesitation. My legs wrap around his waist as his arms encircle me, holding me so tight it's almost painful, but I never want him to let go. His scent—strawberries and cream—surrounds me, familiar and perfect and home.
"I found you," he whispers against my hair, his voice rough with emotion. "I've been looking everywhere."
I can't speak, can only bury my face in his neck as tears spill down my cheeks. Four years apart, of not knowing if I'd ever see him again. It all crashes over me in a wave that leaves me trembling.
"I never gave up," he says fiercely, his arms tightening around me. "I'll never give up on you, Storm. I love you. I'll never let you go again. I should have run away with you that day. I’m so sorry."
