Page 159 of Beautifully Scarred Omega

“Thank you all for being here.” His voice carries easily, and I watch half the room stand a little straighter. “Quarterly results across all divisions are strong. Clinical is ahead of projected timeline. Production numbers are up fourteen percent on last quarter. And—” he pauses “—I’m pleased to announce that our long-term suppressant research project has received full regulatory approval.”

The room erupts into applause. People turn to each other with wide eyes, pulling each other into hugs. Lucy beside me lets out a squeal and grabs my arm.

“Sophie,” she whispers. “Do you understand what that means?”

She doesn’t know the half of it. She’s hearing long-term suppressant research. I’m hearing Equinox—the compound that will let an omega choose to be free in a way that no suppressant, no matter how good, has ever offered. Twelve years of work. And finally, it’s happening.

They’re giving every omega the choice that Max’s mother never got to make.

My eyes burn. I’m so proud of them, and the feeling is so large and so warm that I have to press my hand to my chest to hold it.

Standing here, watching them on that stage, I think about the way they’ve touched me since the night I told them everything. Not once have they hesitated over my scars or made me feel like they change anything. They look at me as if the scars aren’t even there.

Because they actually see me. The way I see them—so clearly now that it’s almost unbearable.

I love you.

The words reverberate in my head—words I never thought I’d feel for another person, let alone three.

I love them. All three of them. The realization fills me with so much awe—knowing that I am capable of it. After everything I’ve been through. After Detroit. After the years of numbness and anger and convincing myself that this part of me was dead.

But it isn’t dead. It’s alive now, enormous and overflowing, and my eyes well with tears as I let the feeling surge through me without fighting it.

Max is still talking about the production timeline when mid-sentence, his eyes move through the crowd and find mine.

And for a second, his expression fills with warmth. As if he was saying, there you are. And then he looks away and keeps going and I’m the only one who saw it.

I smile, my eyes still watery.

After the presentation, the crowd buzzes and lingers and I slip out quietly while Lucy is caught in a conversation about the canteen menu.

I find an empty conference room down the corridor. It’s dim when I enter, and I press my back against the door and close my eyes and breathe.

The memories since I got here move through my mind like I’m experiencing everything again. Max wedging himself beside a falling server rack and holding it up with shaking arms so I could slide free. Ethan, who said I suppose we just wanted omegas to have a choice, like it was the simplest thing in the world. And Finn—sweet, guileless Finn, who makes everyone around him feel heard, who makes a room warmer just by being in it.

God. I’ve fallen completely and irrevocably in love with them.

My phone buzzes, pulling me back.

Have dinner at ours tonight?—Finn

Finn is cooking when I arrive at the pack house that evening.

My body has been thrumming with anticipation since Finn’s text. I spent the rest of the afternoon at my desk pretending to work while my skin buzzed and my pulse wouldn’t settle.

It’s just dinner, I tell myself as I push through the front door. They invited you to dinner. That’s all this is.

When I walk into the kitchen, Finn is at the stove and Ethan is at the table with a glass of wine.

“There she is.” Finn glances over his shoulder and smiles. “Perfect timing. I should be done in about half an hour.” His hair is still damp from a shower, the white t-shirt tight across his shoulders, and I think about the way those shoulders felt under my hands in this kitchen.

“Hey, Sophie,” Ethan says quietly. He gets up and crosses the room and kisses my cheek. His lips are warm and his hand rests briefly on my hip and I forget how to breathe. When he pulls back I catch the sleeves rolled to his elbows, the lean forearms, and my mind goes straight to those hands between my thighs.

Dinner. This is just dinner. Be normal.

“Hey.” My voice comes out steadier than I feel. “Where’s Max?”

“Shower,” Finn says. “He’ll be down in a minute.”