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“Can you feel your hands on the jacket? Press down on it for me. That’s it. Good. Now breathe out with me. You’re safe. I’m here,” the steady voice continues.

Slowly, I blink back to the sage green bedroom, rather than the violet of the nest room a year ago.

Through the blur of tears, I meet my sister’s soft gaze. “Soph…”

She reaches to pull me into a hug, but I flinch away.

Her expression steels. “You’re touch starved. This can’t go on. The docs said that your first heat would be extreme. You can hide away from a lot of shit but not a heat. This is happening, bitch. We need professionals.”

What does she mean?

Sophie fishes in the pocket of her jeans and pulls out her phone.

Wary, I watch as she scrolls through her emails, before she shoves her phone in front of my face.

“The Heat Wave Clinic in Dallas,” Sophie declares. “They are professionals who are trained in helping Omegas with trauma through heats. They have volunteer packs who are specialists. They are trained to help those with shattered bonds. I’ve booked you an appointment for tomorrow morning.”

“You’ve done what?” I gasp.

I stare at the glossy info about the Heat Wave Clinic. I can’t take any of it in, however, because it just makes this all too real.

“Cancel it. I don’t have any money.” I turn my head away.

“Beau had an insurance policy. Money ain’t an issue. You have access to the top, elite package. Anything you want. You’re lucky.”

“Lucky,” I echo, hollow. I reach to trace my hand over the bond mark, devastated as always since I woke up in hospital that I feel no answering emotions. “I don’t want to spend a heat with another Alpha.”

“It’s been a year.” Sophie stands, crumpling the brown paper bag between her hands. “You’re not betraying the Monarchs. You’re honoring them by continuing to live. This ain’t permanent. It is a service that’s simply meeting your needs. This heat is coming, and you’ll be feral during it. You’ll need at least two Alphas to see you through it, maybe three. Beau set up this policy in the event of his death because he wanted you to use it. You know damn well that Beau and Evan wouldn’t stand for you neglecting your Omega needs. Because if you don’t get your ass up and go with me to the clinic tomorrow, then you won’t survive your next heat.”

CHAPTER THREE

Heat Wave Clinic, Dallas

Paige

“Have I told you what a bad idea this is?” I mutter.

“At least seven times on the drive here.” Sophie glances over her shoulder at me.

I stand awkwardly next to her in the reception on the first floor of the Heat Wave Clinic.

Sunlight shines through the floor-to-ceiling windows. My cheeks are flushed with warmth.

The tinkling of a water feature like a waterfall behind the front desk fills the calm space.

I hug my arms around myself anxiously. My feet feel weird in the shoes—trapped.

How many months has it been since I wore anything more than socks?

I claw my nails into the ivory velvet blouse and skirt that Sophie by some miracle managed to find clean at the back of my closet this morning when she arrived at some ungodly hour to drag me out of bed, stuff a pastry from the feed store into my mouth, then dress me and brush my damn mess of hair so that I looked less like a wild animal that she’d discovered in Butterfly Creek.

To be fair, it’s how I feel.

If I hadn’t examined the medical policy myself on the drive to Dallas and seen both Beau and Evan’s signatures on it, then I wouldn’t be going through with this Heat Wave idea.

Seeing the signatures, which are as familiar as my own, with Beau’s sharp slants and controlled strokes next to Evan’s scrawl that is twice the size, I almost told my sister to turn the car right around.

I stroked over each signature compulsively, devastated by how hard seeing them again hit me.