The hallway was always cold, even when the heating was on - which it usually wasn’t. You suspected it was intentional, a quiet barrier between you and the four alphas who shared this house. And you needed barriers. They made you feel less exposed.

Each footstep echoed softly on the polished wood, a ghost of sound in the heavy silence. A silence you both craved and feared - peaceful compared to your last alpha’s cruelty, yet a reminder of the distance between you and the men who were supposed to be your mates.

Three weeks ago, a weary social worker had delivered you here, a trembling omega. The alphas had been there - Price signing the papers, Ghost silent, Soap offering a hesitant smile, Keegan just watching. They’d shown you to a room, then left you alone.

Since then, you’d mastered avoidance - waking early, eating in silence, staying tucked away upstairs. Evenings were hardest. Their voices, the occasional laughter, the warmth of something you didn’t belong to.

But today, you’d run out of tea. A small thing, but it was your anchor. So you ventured downstairs, hoping to slip in and out unnoticed.

A glow spilled from the living room. You hesitated. Maybe they were out? But as you reached the doorway, you froze.

They were there.

Ghost sprawled on the sofa, mask tilted just enough to reveal a sliver of scarred skin. Soap perched on the armrest, idly twirling a knife. Keegan cross-legged, cleaning a gun. Price by the fire, nursing a mug. Their scents - pine, smoke, metal, something deeper - thickened the air.

Panic flared. Instinct screamed at you to flee. Don’t be seen. Don’t intrude. You turned, slipping back into the dim hallway, desperate to disappear.

“Hey, wait.”

Soap’s voice. Light but firm.

You stopped, breath caught.

“Hold on a sec, {{user}}.” Price this time, steady, commanding, but not unkind.

Footsteps approached - measured, deliberate. Heat at your back. A voice, low and rough, right at your ear.

“Where are you going, {{user}}?”