Quinn didn't want it to be dramatic.
Because it shouldn't be. She was simply moving out for the time being. It would just be a place to rest and think. A small holiday away from family. She'd sort her feelings out, journal a ton, make peace with her Alpha, and then she'd return when she was ready. They had a deal. She'd have two weeks to herself, undisturbed. They'd reach out if they needed her. And vice versa.
After the two weeks were up, she made a promise to come around once she was settled and ready. She'd have dinner with them whenever she could. Weekend visits were a must for the virus. They'd have regular health checks and reconsider physical intimacy when the time was right. She'd prioritise the baby and his well-being.
They had a deal.
A pretty damn good one.
It seemed like the perfect plan to give herself time, to allow her thoughts to settle and for the resentment to go. And yet her decision weighed heavily on her shoulders, her mind boiling in the confusing mess of her emotions. For the first hour of the day, everything seemed normal. But the key felt too heavy in her pocket. There was not much to pack, really. Some clothes. A bundle of tools. Her notebook, which detailed the work she had to do: maintenance, sustainability, and welfare. But when she hoisted it all over her shoulder, she wondered why the bag seemed so fucking heavy.
Icarus stood at the doorway when she pushed the door open. It was earlier than usual; the sky was awash in a soft gold, and the taste of coffee was still lingering on her tongue. He stood, body against a beam, hands folded. His hair dusting the tips of his eyes, a lopsided smile greeted her when she arrived. His skin glowed, glittering in the light of dawn. His whisky scent was dripping with something bitter.
"I'm not leaving," she told him, couldn't help the thump of her heart. "We're just going to be neighbours."
"I know," he said. There was a softness to him; the look in his eyes was almost forlorn.
A pause, and then quieter, gentler.
"I'll miss you."
She couldn't respond to that.
She turned then to Elysian, who crept up with sleepy eyes. His hair was still a mess; his skin glowing a soft pink from sleep. He smiled, gorgeous as always, and placed a warm package into her hands. "For lunch," he whispered, but his eyes were red. And then suddenly, he was pulling things from a basket in his arms: jars of fruit, herbs, and preserves.
"Elysian," she said, and suddenly alarm bells were ringing in her ears. The tang of his yoghurt scent was a little too sour. Her Alpha hissed. "If you don't want me to go—"
"No, no." He shook his head quickly, stepping back into the shadows. His scent was masked behind a wall of herbs and baking bread. "You're just around the corner." He blinked hard, too hard. "I'll see you around."
His words struck her, a strange collision that slammed into her lungs, a strange burn in her nose. She didn't understand herself, didn't understand the swell of something hot frothing in her throat. Regret? No. She needed to do this. She had to.
She could smell them when they approached now, creeping closer to the door. Her pack. Her mates. Helios, Zen, Rowan, Solar, and Klaus. They stood watching from the door, and she nodded towards them, finding that she could barely look at them, choosing instead to stare at the floor.
Fuck.
"We're acting like idiots," she said, feeling a mist of something strange in her eyes. "It's just a ten-minute walk from here."
She stepped out onto the grass and looked back once. Her eyes swept over the figures for a mere second, nothing longer. She couldn't do it, not with her Alpha howling within her, demanding to broadcast her emotions to the pack like a megaphone. She swallowed it all down.
"I'll see you around," she told them all, with Solar leading her before she could change her mind.
"Let's go," he said, too gruffly for his usually cheery voice. A solemn air settled upon his shoulders.
The walk was quiet.
Too quiet.
He kept a decent pace ahead, wings fluttering, gossamer and silk. But she found herself consumed by her own thoughts. She wanted this. She wanted her own space and had spent weeks fighting the need to avoid them. This was exactly what she wanted. And yet…why did it feel so wrong?
She swallowed hard. Surely, she was just unused to her new claim, to the bond vibrating in her throat begging her to go back. Years of inadequacy had resulted in a bond that was far too sensitive. She was merely unused to the distance, to the reduction of seven claims, seven connections whispering in her head. She was merely afraid of the unknown.
But she would enjoy this. Quinn promised herself. She would enjoy reclaiming her power; she would relish the safety of independence. She would love the silence. She would finally have the space to be free. Quinn tried to ignore the buzzing in her head. The sway of a gut-wrenching sinking doom that grew in her chest.
The house was at the edge of the woods, closer to the lake, and she could almost taste the rush of running water in the air. The moisture cooling her surroundings. It was a thousand times smaller than the pack home. One story. Two windows, a huge porch. Solar nodded to her, stopping part of the way. His wings fell.
"Go on."
She hesitated.
He scratched the back of his head. She had not looked at him, but she could see him from the periphery of her vision. "I'll have to leave soon. I'm running late for work." This time she raised her head, stared at the sweet curve of his eyes, the swell of his cheeks. His lips were bitten all red from nerves.
She huffed. "Canteen duty?"
"Sanitation," he wrinkled his nose. A bark of laughter escaped him, but it seemed forced. "I hear there's a burst pipe in the hospital."
"No one else on duty?"
His smile grew, flashing pearly white. "Just me. It's an emergency."
"The king," she teased. "The royal oracle."
"The king and the oracle," he confirmed with a snort. "We're no kings here; they don't have to call us that."
His eyes met hers, a gentle pink like blossoms and carnations. She found no detest in them, not an ounce of pompous complaint. And she was noticing now how different he was with his hands dirty from work, with his mind dissolving from the general he once was to a humble worker. Her fairy was different now…Her heart swelled.
"You—" His gaze seemed to waver. His wings fluttered. They caught the light of the sun, sparkled like the surface of water. "You're always welcome back." His feet shifted nervously, wings lifting him a couple of inches off the ground. "You can return if you want."
"I know."
"You can come back now," he mumbled, voice too gruff, "we wouldn't hold it against you."
"I know," she said, a smile rising on her face. "I'm sure about this," she promised. She licked her lips, found it strangely dry. "I'll be here if you need me. And then, I'll be back before you know it."
He gave her one last look, long and hot, and she felt the coil of tension roar through her muscles. A shiver ran up her spine as the pink of his eyes turned gold from his Omega, power fizzing on his skin, wild sparks in the air, popping like starbursts in the sun. A vision. She realised, with a gasp. There was a limit to Solar's powers. He was only privy to what he was allowed to see, and the visions came when he least expected them to. If he tried too hard, they would not be clear.
This was unexpected.
She wondered then if he'd had any prophetic dreams of her. If he knew more than she did. If he knew that she should stay. She wondered if he would beg her to remain by their side, force her to give up her new home. And so, she waited with bated breath as he stared at her with a storm coiling in his eyes. Would he tell her that her presence back home was necessary? That her future was wrecked and ruined with destruction and death? That Elysian would be in trouble?
Her lips parted, brows furrowed. Concern bloomed in her throat.
"Do I have to stay?" she asked. The suspense was killing her.
He froze, seeming caught by her question, a myriad of emotions flickering over his face, cheeks growing a solid pink as he stumbled free from the vision. "No," he said, voice oddly husky.
"What did you see?"
His eyes widened now, fresh from a vision, his breath escaping him in long pants. His cheeks were now roaring into a solid rose, teeth snagged on lower lip. It ran from his cheeks to the tips of his collar. A sheen of sweat on his hairline. His pupils bloomed, dilating so rapidly it startled her. "Nothing," his reply was squeaked out. A messy breath escaped him, almost as if tortured.
"Solar," she threatened.
"It's not bad," he blurted. "It's good. I-I knew it was a good idea to build the house. That it would do us all good—"
"Good?" she cocked her head to the side. "You've got to explain—"
"Goodbye," he said too sharply, too rapidly.
He left her then, slipping off too quickly before she could stop him on fluttering wings.
But at least she had his blessings.
The key slid into the lock easily; the door opened with a soft click. Inside, it smelled new. Too new. Cedar and stale air. Sparse furniture. A small couch. A dining table. Shelves hammered into the wall. The space was small, but it echoed when she stepped in, taking off her shoes.
The insulation was good. Thick walls, good material. She breathed. The silence pressed in for a moment, weighing on her shoulders. Heavy and unfamiliar. Her chest tightened. Instinctively, she listened for breathing that wasn't there.
The quiet was loud.
She exhaled slowly, turning to explore.
There were only two rooms. Living and bathroom. It was much like a studio unit, an open-concept layout with the bedroom, kitchen, and living combined. The bedroom merely fresh sheets on a king-sized mattress. There was a small fireplace in the kitchen, fully stocked with firewood, and the toilets were oddly connected to the limited sewage pipes that they had. Flushing miraculously worked and there was a shower; cold water, but water all the same. She supposed that the house was a lot closer to the hospital than she had assumed. But the luxury was amazing. She should be happy. Her fingers brushed the walls as she moved, grounding herself, trying to make it all familiar.
There were no memories here.
Only space.
Space that she wanted.
She set her bag down and stood still, unsure of what to do next. For so long, her days had been structured around the seven. Their meals, their needs, their proximity. She'd scrambled to spots in the house that were quiet. Now everywhere was quiet, and there was nothing to do. Nothing to run from.
She let herself sit. There would be no forced smiles. No scent control. No pretending she wasn't breaking apart at the seams. No acting. Nothing. The bond tugged faintly in her chest. A low hum reminding her she was just further. It didn't hurt. It was just stretched.
She winced.
For the first time since waking from that coma, since forced choices and bonds, she felt something unfamiliar settle into her bones. A silence that she didn't know if she liked. She stood and opened every window. Allowed her scent to sink into the wood. Anything to make it feel like home.
By evening, she had completely unpacked. There was a bigger stack of logs on the hearth. Her carved stone, a courting gift from her trio, was on the shelf. The jars of Elysian's preserves by its side. She'd eaten Elysian's sandwich cold. Her traitorous mind reminded her that it would have tasted better at home, fresh from the oven.
She found herself unable to get up and make dinner.
Quinn claimed the porch with a chair dragged from the living room. The roof was smaller, revealing the wide expanse of a dark sky. The moon hung low and silver. She sat alone, allowing herself to breathe. Oddly, her skin prickled, goosebumps raised, a chill settling on her bones.
Cold.
She stood and went back inside, feeling like an idiot.
Ten minutes away, seven hearts pounded as one, throbbing to the beat of her own.
*
Her house.
She had to make it feel like home.
She stepped out onto the land behind the structure and knelt, fingers in the soil. The earth was compacted but not dead. Dry at the top, but richer underneath. There was hope. She pressed her fingers in, testing it. It was all neglected, but workable despite the pollution.
Moist.
She'd built the greenhouse later, a plastic structure over the earth. She began clearing debris first: the stones, the weeds, the old roots. Her movements were methodical. Sweat formed along her spine, beaded under her chest as the sun climbed higher. Dirt gathered beneath her nails.
It should have felt freeing.
She always felt free when she worked with the soil. But instead, there was a strange hollowness within her. One that had her tossing and turning all night. She paused once, wiping her forehead with the back of her wrist. She glanced toward the tree line, half-expecting someone leaning against a tree, arms crossed.
The shadows were empty.
She exhaled and went back to work.
By midday, she'd marked out spots for new produce, dragging fallen branches into a pile. Her shoulders ached pleasantly. The pain felt earned, good. It took her mind off things. When she straightened to stretch, her eyes drifted to the trees. No one stood there. Quinn was confused then. Why the fuck would anyone be there? And suddenly, her mind was swelling, growing with how much she missed them.
The ache burned, clawing at her throat.
Longing.
Fuck.
She growled, threw her tools to the ground, and stood. It had only been one day. What was wrong with her? She could spend a day without their presence. She had work. They had work. They did not spend every waking hour together—
She abandoned the project.
She could always take care of her greenhouse back there.
*
"You're taking a break from the kings?"
She tried to ignore it, but the question cut through the scrape of tools against steel. A rain of sparks cascading in the air. Quinn didn't look up at first. Her hands were stained with oil, fingers steady as she stripped the casing off a broken rifle. Float shimmered faintly along her knuckles. It provided her with heat precise enough to seal a warped piece of metal without melting the entire chamber. The scent of scorched hardware stank in the air.
Only when the silence stretched for far too long did she pause, putting down her tools to look at the girl.
Across the workbench sat the Alpha with ebony features and thick curls pulled into a high ponytail. Minty was younger than most of the crew, and only slightly older than Quinn. She was the only girl who was close to her age. The Alpha was tough, a scavenger from a different port. She was used to fixing broken things she'd found in the wastelands for extra cash, a skill that proved useful now in the new world.
They were friends, and she was fun. They worked well together on the maintenance crew, and occasionally they had lunch together at the canteen with the other girls. Quinn had to admit that she needed a woman in her life. But Minty loved gossip, and she loved to pry, so it didn't take long for her to dig into her own life. Minty was observant in ways that could be inconvenient.
In other words, Minty was nosy as fuck.
"Lunch's going to be good," Quinn said, trying to change the subject. "I hear its chicken curry—"
"You came from a different direction," Minty continued. "Some of the girls said you're staying at the house next to the lake."
"The lake is huge."
"The house near the hospital?" Minty supplied, raised a delicate brow. "If you don't tell me the truth, I'll visit and knock on your door."
Quinn cursed in her head. She knew the kings were all scrutinized by the others, that they were the role models for the entire arrangement between Alphas and Omegas. And at first that had been the reason she had not wanted to live apart from the boys; she didn't want her break ruining their people. But the boys had ascertained that the men would not talk. That they would speak to them and reassure them that all was well. Relationships could be delicate, and they all knew that.
But that did not stop the girls from talking.
Quinn spun on her chair. "What gave you that idea?"
Minty folded her arms but didn't retreat. "You haven't been coming in by the same route." A tilt of her head. "And they haven't been hovering over you."
A wrench clinked against the metal table as Quinn set it down with a sigh. "Hovering?"
"They watch you," Minty said simply. "Like hungry, hungry wolves, and now the wolves are gone." She hummed, then paused. "Did you tell them to fuck off?"
Quinn returned to the rifle, adjusting a coil. She enjoyed Minty's gossip. The girl always knew the ins and outs of their little town, and that helped with planning and welfare, but now? Not so much. "I just told them to give me space."
"Is it allowed?" Minty pressed. The other brow rose. "Didn't you tell us the virus would kill us if we tried to stay away from the men?"
Quinn's jaw tightened almost immediately. "I said," she corrected, voice calm but edged. She'd been on the edge for too long. "That if you want to live, fall in love. And if you want to stave off the infection, you need to fuck."
"Well," Minty snorted, "are you fucking?"
Quinn blew out a long breath, turning to face the girl. "You have to love them, or it doesn't work," she reminded.
"Yeah, yeah," Minty shrugged. Then held her gaze. "You'd love them more if they stuck a tongue in your cunt."
"Mint," Quinn shot her a look.
The girl snickered. "You're such a prude."
"I'm not." Quinn scowled. "I just—"
"Couldn't stand their ugly faces?" Minty sniffed. "No, wait, they're gorgeous. Prettier than my boys for sure." She paused, seeming to think. "They're shit in bed, aren't they?"
"No," Quinn said too abruptly, too goddamn sharply. Minty giggled.
"I'm right."
"Oh, shut up," Quinn flushed. It wasn't her fault she didn't have the appendages that the other Alphas had. It wasn't her fault that she'd never gone all the way with the seven. It just wasn't possible with everything.
Minty clucked her tongue. "You're on a deadline; you've got to work with what you have and your boys are hungry."
"I just need space, okay?" Quinn told her honestly. "I thought I'd take a break so that it wouldn't mess me up in the head."
The girl frowned. "That sounds like trouble."
"It isn't." Heat flared briefly along Quinn's fingertips as she fixed another gun. She withdrew her hand before it could melt and burn. "Look, falling in love isn't the same as physically being with them."
Minty gave her a look. "Is this coming from the same woman who claimed that physical affection will help with the virus?"
Quinn felt shame roar in her cheeks. "It's not that. You know what I mean."
"I'm not telling you that it's wrong. I'm trying to tell you that it's working," Minty brushed back her curls, revealing her neck. The lines of ink were a familiar sight in town. "The virus was once all the way through my clavicle. Now it's just resting at the tip of the bone." She dropped her hair. "It's working and we're all having our fun," Minty drawled. "You should, too."
"I told you," Quinn said, "I just need some time."
"You can't fall in love if you're not with them."
"I—" she turned to glare at the girl. "I know that."
"And?"
"It's really just a short break," Quinn repeated. "I just need time to understand myself, to figure out if what I feel from the claim is me. Or is it just fucked-up Alpha hormones. Love," she pointed out, "is not going to come from simply the need to mate."
"Love," Minty responded. "Can also happen because of the need to mate."
"It's not just that!" She threw her rag down then with a glare.
"Then what is love?" Minty challenged.
Quinn hesitated.
Around them, the maintenance bay hummed with activity. The sparks flying from welding, the machinery roaring, low conversation blending into a collective of white noise. It was all hard work. Honest work. Work that didn't require her thoughts. And she enjoyed that, she enjoyed the ability to stop thinking.
Minty seemed to sigh.
"Love," Minty said slowly, "is not just physical affection." She wiped her hands on a cloth. "It's also a choice." Her expression softened slightly, but her tongue snapped. "You're choosing to stay away from them."
Quinn let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. But anger roared through her then. "It's not that simple. And it's just two weeks, Minty!" She turned back to her work. "They can survive for two weeks."
"I never said they couldn't," Minty reminded her. There was silence then, before she spoke. "The kings look sad."
That landed heavier than Quinn expected. But she shook her head. "It's only been a week."
"They've been restless," Minty continued pushing. "Short-tempered. Distracted. I'm not going to name names. But my mates say they're losing their minds at work. Their Omegas are upset. It's not awful, but everyone can see it." A small pause. "Look, I'm not claiming they were saints. Everyone knows what they've done, and the girls?" Minty's eyes flashed with pity. "We know what it's like."
Quinn's throat felt tight.
"I'm just saying," Minty added gently, "that you need to get your shit together."
"We're working on it," Quinn said at last. "I promise. Like any relationship, things get… strained. And I can't help my feelings. So I'm taking a break to see if this would help."
Minty studied her. "Is it helping?"
She felt herself bristle at her words.
Minty clucked her tongue. "It's not."
"I'll figure it out."
"But you said," Minty declared, pointing her finger at her, "if love doesn't happen, you'll die."
Quinn's fingers curled around the edge of the workbench.
"Yes," she admitted. "I did."
"So, it's do or die."
"Of course."
Silence stretched between them.
"Doesn't that scare you?" Minty asked.
"Of course it does." Quinn's gaze lifted again, sharper now. "But I can't force myself to fall in love. I can't. I'm not being selfish here, I'm trying Minty. I'm trying so hard."
Minty absorbed that.
"If I run to them just because the alternative is death," Quinn continued, voice lowered, "then it's not real. It's coercion. And if it's coercion, it won't be true. I-My mind can't wrap around that. The bond knows the difference, and I hate that I'm confused. I refuse to try when things are already falling apart."
"You're gambling with your life," Minty said gently.
"I'm not going to fake it," Quinn replied.
Minty leaned back against the table, thoughtful, and clucked her tongue. "You need to remember that love has to be built."
"It has to be built from something real."
"And what if you don't know what's real before it's too late?"
That question had her growing still. The noise of the workshop seemed far too distant for a moment.
"What will you do?" Minty asked, not mocking now, just honest and direct as always. "If you can't figure it out in time?"
Quinn opened her mouth, then closed it. For someone who had gone against kings and fought Lonely, she had no answer. Her gaze dropped back to the broken rifle. "I don't know," she admitted quietly. And that was the hardest truth of all.
"I knew it," Minty responded. Her lips pressed into a line. Worry in her eyes. She waved her hands, shook her head. The tension broke. "Ask them to suck you off. You might love it."
"Fuck off," Quinn hissed automatically.
Minty laughed, more relieved than amused. "I'm serious here." She went back to work then, putting the pieces together. "The girls…We're worried about you. We see it in you."
Quinn didn't look up.
"You've been eating lunch like you're starving. You're here until midnight every day. And you haven't actually been with them in a while, have you?" Her eyes flashed. "This thing has gone on for too long."
"I see them," Quinn said. "Around. We say hello. It was not radio silence, we're still talking."
"That's not what I mean." Minty's words were sharp, lashed out before Quinn could snap back. "You've never trusted your Alpha."
"I…"
"Do you miss them?" Minty's eyes bored into her then. "A week away from your soulmates, and already do you miss them?"
Quinn's mouth parted, then closed.
She felt transparent then, shaken as her friend pinned her with her gaze. Minty knew she'd been avoiding them since she'd woken up from her coma. That half of her had not softened from their apologies. That she had her barriers up the entire time. Quinn had not been honest with herself for a long time, and shame burned within her.
So much for pretending to be the bigger person.
Heat roared in her cheeks.
Minty was right; she'd been lying to herself the entire time. And here she was missing them like a lunatic, and this was happening right after pushing them all away and running out of their lives. God, Quinn didn't know what was wrong with her. She didn't know what she wanted. She didn't know what to think. She couldn't tell right or wrong.
Quinn was confused.
She was lost.
Running had been her attempt to understand herself, to make peace with her situation, and yet she was coming out of it more confused than ever. The feelings of need that throbbed within her now were almost impossible to bear. Quinn felt as if she had been lying to herself, to everyone the entire time. And now, she felt naked under the weight of her friend's gaze.
Minty ran a hand through her curls.
"I'll shut up," she said and went back to sorting through spare parts. "But if you won't talk to them, then at least come to the party."
Quinn stiffened slightly. "I don't think that's—"
"You've been avoiding it because you didn't want everyone whispering about your relationship." Minty shrugged. "Too late. They already do. And no one cares as much as you think they do."
The party.
It had slipped her mind. It was meant to be a break for the pack. A rare night of music, dancing, too much food, and a much stronger drink than usual. It would be hosted at the pack house, the home of her seven. It was the only building with a hall large enough to hold them all, and it had been built to allow for meetings after all. She had planned to skip it, and weeks ago she was sure she'd spent most of it on the porch. Not because she couldn't face the kings, but because she didn't want to face the room.
Now that the room already knew, maybe there was no reason to hide.
To act.
"Minty—"
"If anything, the food will be good," she pointed out. "If you don't want to see those men, the girls will distract them. Okay?" She gave her a look. "You deserve a good time, at the very least. Come. Laugh. Drink. You still need to live."
And Quinn found herself unable to respond.
A/N - Read 8 chapters ahead on
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