Page 58 of Heat Island
“We’ve only got a week here,” Matheo reminds me. “Let’s just get through it without bloodshed.”
I’m about to respond when Lucas appears behind us, startling us both.
“These guys won’t stop asking questions,” he says. “Trinity’s family didn’t give us this much of the third degree, and she isn’t even their actual sister-in-law yet. You think something weird is going on?”
I shoot Matheo a look because I’m too mature to say “told you so”. If the cinnamon roll himself is picking up on something insidious, then these assholes might as well be shouting their nefarious intentions from the rooftops.
I explain my theory about rich, finance-boy alphas who want to have their cake and fuck its sister, too.
Lucas solemnly considers the theory. “It’s like when my little cousin, Tommy, would abandon his toys, then cry when his brother played with them.”
“Exactly,” I confirm. “They don’t want her mind or her heart or her dreams. They just can’t stand that she might be happy with other alphas when they can’t have her anymore. They think everything and everyone belongs to them.”
“Trinity isn’t a toy,” Matheo growls, sounding very much like an alpha who has already staked a claim himself.
I try to decide how I feel about that. Back in college, Matheo was the only guy in our frat aside from me who didn’t come from more money than any one family should ever be allowed to have, while simultaneously acting like the world owed them even more. We were the misfits, the oddballs, but we’ve stayed friends because Matheo is still a decent guy even after the little tech company he started in our dorm room went supernova.
Even if every dream I’ve ever had went poof like a soap bubble whenever I actually tried to grab for it.
The truth is, I never deserved Trinity in the first place. When I showed up at her apartment for that heat-breaking session six months ago, I knew I’d get attached. Those three days with her were intoxicating—her scent, her laugh, the way she’d curl against me when she slept. But I never called her back after or scheduled another session despite her requests, even though I wanted to. What could I offer an omega like her?
I’m a sound tech with student loans twice the size of my annual salary. I live in a studio apartment with water damage in the ceiling. My band never made it past local bars, and I can’t even find time to gig part-time around my never-ending string of dead-end jobs. I’m the alpha who makes cartoon sound effects when Spider-Man falls on his ass.
Even now, I’m only here because Matheo’s paying my debts. I’m the fourth wheel, the charity case, the one they had to drag in to complete the set. Hell, even Cash—a fucking beta—is more alpha than I am. He’s got the high-powered job, the corner office, the house with a yard. He provides in all the ways alphas are supposed to.
If their apparent plan works and Trinity is convinced to keep us for real, I’ll still be the least valuable member of this arrangement. She’ll be with us as a pack, not with me specifically. And I’ll be the one they tolerate to have her.
Just like these fancy suit-wearing, golf-loving assholes, I want what I don’t deserve.
The difference is, at least I know it.
“No, she isn’t a toy,” I agree, surprising myself with how protective I sound. “But these assholes don’t seem to know that.
Matheo’s jaw tightens as he watches Egret laughingwith his packmates up ahead. I practically see the wheels turning in his head.
“So what do we do?” Lucas asks.
I flash them both my most dangerous smile. “We make sure they know exactly what they’ve lost.”
Ilean against the boat railing, watching the sunset paint the sky in shades of orange and pink above the dark blue ocean waves. It’s the kind of view that rich people would pay extra for if that were physically possible.
Trinity’s voice carries across the dock as she approaches with her entourage. Her sister, Josephine, chatters excitedly about the evening cruise while their mother, Margaret, nods along, looking slightly overwhelmed. The two alpha sisters—Amelia and Isabelle—trail behind, whispering to each other and occasionally glancing in our direction.
I can’t help but notice how Trinity stands apart from them, physically present but somehow separate. She’s wearing a flowing sundress that catches the breeze, her dark hair curling loosely around her shoulders. Even from this distance, I can tell she’s tense, her shoulders tight with the strain of maintaining appearances.
Matheo, Cash, and Lucas are already aboard the boat, mingling with the other guests and gathering as much intel on the grooms as they can. But I wanted to be here when Trinity arrived, the first to greet her.
I might not get her to myself again once the others figure out I’ve been keeping our history a secret from them.
Trinity steps onto the gangplank, her hand gripping the railing a little too tightly. Her sister says something that makes her force a laugh, the sound hollow and strained. Iknow that laugh. It’s the one she used when I made stupid jokes at the beginning of her heat when she wasn’t comfortable with me yet.
The memory hits me with unexpected force. Trinity had waited too long before setting the appointment, and ignoring the early symptoms of heat had left her overheated and cramping in pain when I finally arrived. For the first few hours, all she could do was curl up against me on the couch, her skin burning with fever as I held ice to her forehead. The way she looked at me with such gratitude when I brought her water, as if I’d performed some heroic feat instead of the bare minimum.
I never returned any calls from the agency after that. There was zero chance that Trinity would ever see a pathetic alpha like me as anything more than a gigolo. I didn’t want to see her again, get even more attached when I knew an eventual rejection would be inevitable. And heat-breaking with any other omega would feel dirty. Wrong.
But I thought about her. Every damn day.
Trinity reaches the end of the gangplank and steps onto the boat deck. Her eyes scan the crowd, passing over me before snapping back, that dreaded recognition flickering across her face that is always followed by a slight frown of her full lips. Like she has to fight off a little internal wince every time she lays eyes on me.
