The room felt strangely still.
Not silent—
the ventilation hummed softly, the emergency lights flickered in the corners—
but still.
Still compared to the screaming alarms, collapsing corridors, and my own heartbeat clawing at my ribs moments ago.
I felt like I was floating.
My head rested against Horace's shoulder, cheek pressed to the warm skin of his collarbone.
His arms wrapped all the way around me, one behind my back, the other beneath my knees.
I realized he hadn't shifted me an inch since the stabilizer.
He was holding me like I might disappear.
My fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, weak but conscious.
I could feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing—
fast, shaky, but real.
It grounded me.
I exhaled shakily.
Horace's entire body froze.
"Elleanore…?" His voice was a whisper.
Not confident.
Not composed.
Not princelike.
Shaken.
Raw.
Afraid.
I forced my eyes open.
The world came into focus slowly—
dim lights, cool walls, shadows moving gently around us.
Rowan on the floor, clinging to Chandler's shirt with trembling hands.
Lucian at the control panel, hair damp with sweat.
Chandler kneeling behind Rowan, steady and unyielding like a foundation pillar—one hand on Rowan's shoulder, one on his back.
And Horace—
his gaze fixed on me like he'd been drowning and had only now breached the surface.
My voice cracked, barely a whisper:
"…Horace…"
A sound left him—
something between a breath and a sob he tried too hard to swallow.
He cupped the side of my face with a shaking hand.
"Thank god… thank god you're awake…"
I blinked.
Slow.
Heavy.
But present.
"I'm… here…"
He closed his eyes for a moment, forehead pressing to mine.
"You terrified me," he whispered, voice cracking at the edges.
"You scared the life out of me, Elle."
My fingers tightened weakly in his shirt.
"I'm… sorry…"
His breath shuddered as he pulled me closer.
"Don't. Don't ever apologize to me for something they did to you."
My throat tightened.
I wanted to say more—
to tell him I wasn't okay,
that everything hurt,
that I felt wrong and shaken and like I couldn't breathe—
but the words wouldn't come.
Horace gently stroked my cheek.
"Don't push yourself.
Just breathe.
I'm right here."
ROWAN BREAKS
"No—stop—Chandler—stop—"
Rowan's voice rose suddenly, thin and panicked.
Chandler tightened his grip around him, grounding him instantly.
"Rowan—hey—
look at me—what's happening?"
Rowan shook his head violently.
His breathing spiked.
His hands clawed at his thighs, trembling.
"I—
I feel everything—
I feel her—
I feel Horace—
and you—
and—it's—too much—Chandler—!"
He gasped sharply, curling in on himself.
Chandler gathered him close immediately, pulling him into his chest.
Rowan sobbed into his shoulder, shaking hard.
"I couldn't—
I couldn't feel her for a second—
I thought she had—
I thought—"
His voice broke entirely.
"I thought she DIED—!"
The raw terror in his voice hit me like a blow.
I tried to move—
to reach for him—
but my limbs felt too heavy, my strength too thin.
Horace sensed it and shifted closer.
Rowan's breath hitched as the movement registered.
He reached out blindly with a trembling hand.
"Elle… Elle… please… don't slip again… please…"
Chandler pressed a warm kiss to Rowan's temple, murmuring:
"She's okay. You don't have to be scared anymore. She's alive, Rowan."
Rowan shook his head.
"You don't understand—
if she hadn't woken up—
I wouldn't—
I wouldn't be here either—"
Chandler's breath caught.
Lucian flinched visibly.
Horace held me tighter.
My chest twisted painfully.
I whispered, voice thin:
"Rowan…"
His head snapped toward me instantly.
He crawled forward—
almost collapsing—
until Chandler steadied him.
Rowan reached for my hand, fingers shaking.
"You're alive…"
I squeezed his hand gently.
Rowan sobbed again—
but this time softer.
Relieved.
Exhausted.
Overflowing.
Horace breathed out a shaky exhale, his forehead brushing mine again.
"She's safe, Rowan. She's right here."
CHANDLER TAKES CARETAKER MODE
Chandler shifted Rowan into his lap, supporting him with both arms.
He looked up at Horace.
"How stable is she?"
Horace swallowed.
"I don't know. She's conscious, but she's still burning up. Every movement spikes her heat."
Chandler nodded once.
Then he stood—
lifting Rowan with him—
and approached us slowly.
"Horace. Let me touch her back again."
Horace stiffened.
He didn't like it.
Didn't want anyone near her.
But he also knew what happened last time I started slipping.
He gave a tight nod.
Chandler reached forward and placed his warm palm at the small of my back.
My body reacted immediately—
tension easing
breathing slowing
instinct settling.
Horace saw it.
He exhaled in relief.
"Okay… okay. That's good."
Rowan leaned into Chandler's chest, whispering:
"She needs all of us.
She feels safer when… we're close…"
Chandler nodded.
"And we will be. As long as she needs."
LUCIAN: THE TRUTH WE'VE BEEN AVOIDING
Lucian finally stepped away from the panel.
He looked exhausted.
Bruised.
Shaken.
But focused.
His voice softened—something rare for Lucian.
"We got her out.
But this…
this isn't over."
Horace tensed.
"What do you mean?"
Lucian knelt beside us, lowering his voice.
"Elleanore is still in active heat.
The suppressants are completely out of her system.
Her body has no buffer left."
Chandler's jaw tightened.
Rowan's fingers curled around mine.
I swallowed weakly.
Lucian continued:
"She needs a safe, private space.
Warm.
Quiet.
No more stress.
And—"
He hesitated.
Then looked at Horace first.
"She'll need anchors."
Rowan breathed in sharply.
Chandler blinked once—but without surprise.
Horace's voice went low, protective, raw:
"Anchors… meaning us."
Lucian nodded.
"Yes. But not—
not anything further."
He swallowed, choosing each word carefully.
"She needs scent.
Safety.
Warmth.
Stability.
Nothing intimate.
Nothing physical beyond grounding contact.
Just presence."
Horace's shoulders loosened slightly.
Chandler relaxed.
Rowan nodded against Chandler's chest.
Lucian added:
"She'll also need someone awake at all times.
Her heat will fluctuate.
We're not safe yet."
Horace looked down at me—
eyes filled with something so intense it nearly hurt to meet.
"Then I'm not leaving her side."
Rowan whispered:
"Me either."
Chandler exhaled slowly.
"…Nor am I."
Lucian gave a tired, approving nod.
"Good. Then we do this together."
ELLEANORE — CLEARER NOW
My breathing slowed.
The heat still burned—deep and heavy—but the sharp edges softened.
I blinked sluggishly and looked up at Horace.
His face softened instantly.
"Hey," he whispered.
"You back with me?"
I nodded faintly.
Rowan leaned closer, eyes still red.
"You scared us…"
"I'm… sorry…" my voice rasped.
Chandler shook his head.
"No.
Don't apologize.
Not for this.
Not for anything you didn't choose."
Lucian exhaled shakily from across the room.
"Rest, Elleanore.
We're not going anywhere."
I relaxed into Horace's chest, exhaustion settling over me like a blanket.
His arms tightened around me.
Rowan curled closer.
Chandler stayed behind, steady and warm.
Lucian kept watch near the door.
For the first time in hours—
the fear faded.
Just a little.
A fragile quiet settled around us.
A small island of peace in the middle of everything broken.
And for the first time—
I let myself believe:
I wasn't alone anymore.
The Question She Finally Asks
The room dimmed into something gentler as Lucian adjusted the lighting.
Not bright.
Not harsh.
Warm.
Soft.
Safe.
Horace still held me against his chest, my body curled instinctively toward his warmth. His arms wrapped around me with the cautious strength of someone terrified I might vanish if he loosened his hold even slightly.
I could feel his heartbeat beneath my cheek—
fast
uneven
still shaken.
Rowan sat pressed against Horace's side, one slender hand resting over mine.
His touch was trembling, but steady.
He wasn't letting go.
Not after everything.
Chandler knelt behind Rowan for support, one broad hand on Rowan's back, lending him stability.
Lucian moved quietly around the room, turning off unnecessary electronics, closing vents that might startle an Omega in heat, setting up monitoring sensors discreetly.
Horace lowered his cheek to the top of my head.
"Do you feel any better?"
His voice was soft.
Too soft.
I nodded faintly.
"Mm…"
"Does anything hurt?" he whispered.
I swallowed.
"My chest… head… and…"
My voice faltered.
Rowan squeezed my hand gently.
"It's okay. You don't have to finish."
But Horace didn't look away.
He tilted my chin up with two careful fingers.
"Elleanore…
you tell me what hurts.
Nothing you say will scare me away."
My heart ached at his voice.
Because it sounded like the truth.
I took a small breath.
"It's… the heat.
Everything feels… too much."
Horace exhaled softly, forehead brushing mine.
"We're going to help you through it.
All of us."
Rowan nodded, pressing his cheek gently to my shoulder.
"We're right here."
Chandler added quietly:
"You don't have to hide what you feel."
THE ROOM IS PREPARED
Lucian finally stepped back.
"Room's set," he said.
"No more alarms.
No more vents.
And outside interference is blocked."
Chandler nodded.
"Good."
Rowan relaxed slightly against Chandler.
Horace adjusted his hold on me.
"Lucian… how long will this phase last?"
Lucian hesitated.
"It depends.
A first uncontrolled heat can last twenty-four to forty-eight hours."
Horace stiffened.
Rowan's breath hitched.
Chandler's grip on Rowan's shoulder tightened slightly.
Lucian continued, his voice gentler this time.
"But the worst part—the shock spike—is over.
Everything now is maintenance.
She's safe as long as we're careful."
Horace looked down at me again, brushing a thumb over my cheek.
"You hear that?
You're safe."
I nodded weakly, leaning further into him.
My head felt heavy.
My eyelids fluttered.
Every muscle in my body ached from tension and exhaustion.
Rowan whispered:
"Do you want water?"
I swallowed.
"…later…"
Chandler hummed.
"She's too tired to lift her head."
Lucian approached the cot.
"Horace, we should move her to the bed."
Horace tightened his arms instantly.
"No."
Lucian sighed.
"You can still hold her.
But she needs to lie down.
Your body can't stay like that for hours—you'll make things worse."
Horace clenched his jaw.
"I'm not leaving her."
Lucian raised both hands.
"I didn't ask you to leave."
Slowly—
too slowly—
Horace stood, lifting me carefully with him.
My fingers tightened in his shirt.
A faint whine slipped out of me without permission.
Horace stopped immediately.
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"Elle… it's okay… I'm not letting go… I promise."
He brought me to the cot and sat with me in his lap, letting me rest against his chest as if nothing had changed.
My breathing steadied.
Rowan crawled onto the cot beside us, still trembling from his earlier collapse.
Chandler climbed up behind him, supporting Rowan's back with his chest.
Horace's hand stroked my hair softly.
Lucian exhaled.
"Good.
That's… ideal."
THE HEAT WAVES COME IN CYCLES
A ripple of heat started low in my abdomen—
slow
insistent
swelling like a wave.
I tensed.
My breath hitched.
My chest tightened.
And instinct surged again—
not violently,
but deep.
Horace felt it before I could speak.
He shifted, wrapping both arms around me, one hand guiding my head back to his shoulder.
"Easy…
easy—
I've got you—"
My fingers curled around his sleeve.
Rowan flinched at the spike.
He pressed closer, cheek against my arm.
His voice trembled.
"I can feel her… her scent… it's—
Horace—she needs—"
Horace nodded once.
"I know."
He pulled me closer, grounding me with slow, steady breaths.
Chandler leaned forward slightly, placing a warm hand between my shoulder blades.
The pressure steadied my body almost instantly.
Like a tri-anchor.
I exhaled shakily.
My voice broke.
"…thank you…"
Three gasps caught at once.
Rowan bowed his head over my hand, shoulders shaking.
Chandler whispered:
"You don't have to thank us."
Horace pressed a kiss to my hairline.
"We're not leaving you.
Ever."
Another heat wave pulsed through me—
not as sharp,
not as crushing,
but enough that my legs trembled slightly.
Horace steadied them with one hand.
"Breathe with me," he murmured.
I matched his breaths.
Slow.
Deep.
Rowan followed too—
their breaths syncing with mine without needing instruction.
Chandler murmured:
"That's it. Slow. Stay with us."
My eyes watered at the gentleness in his voice.
Lucian remained by the door, standing guard.
THE QUESTION
The heat softened again.
My body relaxed partially.
My head slipped against Horace's chest, cheek pressed to the warm fabric over his heart.
Rowan rested beside me, fingers interlaced with mine.
Chandler stayed behind, one hand on Rowan's hip, the other lightly touching my shoulder.
The soft, warm quiet settled again.
For the first time—
I could think.
Not clearly.
Not fully.
But enough.
Enough to process the fear that had lived in my chest for weeks.
I swallowed.
My lips parted before I could stop the words from escaping.
"…Why… did you come for me…?"
The room stilled.
Horace stiffened.
Rowan's fingers twitched in mine.
Chandler inhaled softly.
Lucian froze completely.
I blinked up at Horace, my voice fragile.
"You… almost died…
you broke the door…
you fought the whole system…"
My breath hitched.
"…Why?"
Horace looked down at me.
His expression softened into something that stripped the breath from my lungs.
Something honest.
Unfiltered.
Bare.
He cupped my face.
"Elleanore."
My heart stuttered.
Rowan's breath caught.
Chandler bowed his head.
Lucian looked away.
Horace whispered:
"Because you're—
the one I would break for."
The words hit the room like a shockwave.
Rowan's hand tightened around mine.
Chandler's breath hitched.
Lucian's eyes glistened even as he looked away sharply.
My heartbeat stuttered painfully.
My voice trembled.
"Horace…"
He shook his head, brushing his thumb over my cheek.
"I'm not saying it because of instinct.
Or heat.
Or the bond pulling at me.
I'm saying it because it's true."
My eyes burned.
Hot tears slipped out.
Rowan leaned closer, whispering softly:
"…please don't cry…"
Chandler's warm hand steadied my back.
Horace pressed his forehead to mine.
His voice was steady.
Quiet.
Only for me.
"Elle."
His fingers curled against my cheek.
"You matter to me.
More than the Academy.
More than the rules.
More than the crown."
My breath shook.
"And I don't care what anyone thinks—
I will keep choosing you."
The words washed over me—
soft, fierce, terrifying, beautiful.
And something inside me finally—
finally—
unclenched.
I whispered back:
"…thank you…"
Horace closed his eyes, breath trembling.
"I should be thanking you."
I blinked.
"…why…?"
He opened his eyes.
And whispered:
"For still being alive."