Revisada por: Sagitário♐
Última Atualização: 23/7/25In this omegaverse, human relationships are shaped by hierarchy and biology — much like wolves. Alphas sit at the top of the social structure: they’re stronger, bigger, more dominant, and often more aggressive. Betas are closer to regular humans but still carry their own unique scent. Omegas, on the other hand, are physically smaller, more sensitive, and emotionally open. They tend to be naturally submissive to the alphas they trust.
Each dynamic has its own scent, and scent compatibility can signal a soul-deep bond — essentially, you've found your soulmate. These connections are often lifelong. Alphas can mark omegas and betas with a bite, creating an unbreakable bond (though it can become latent over time if not nurtured). Omegas can also mark betas, but not alphas.
Every omegaverse has its own set of rules, and in mine, the world mirrors our own, just with a few key biological differences. Alphas have knots and purr; omegas whine, get overwhelmed easily, and can experience drops (a kind of stress-induced shutdown until they feel safe again) and heats.
Packs do exist in this universe, but they’re not the norm. Most people form monogamous relationships, but it’s not unusual — or taboo — for someone to find more than one scent-match and build a pack. Packs are always centered around an omega and those they welcome into it. Betas can join packs too, though it’s rare, since their biology doesn’t pull them as strongly toward instinctive bonding.
This book (and its characters) is deeply influenced by impulse and instinct, but they aren’t ruled by them. It’s also a reverse harem, meaning our FMC will most likely end up with more than one love interest (she doesn’t have to choose unless she wants to!).
More importantly, this is a love story. But it’s not only romance. It’s found-family, maternal love, a story about getting to love yourself and then allowing others to do the same. It’s about healing, setting boundaries, facing betrayal, and building something stronger from the pieces. The bonds in this book go beyond instinct; they’re about choice, forgiveness, and the messy, beautiful ways people come back to one another.
While biology plays a role, it doesn’t control everything. These characters are flawed and impulsive, but they’re also growing, constantly redefining what it means to be safe, wanted, and free.
At its core, this story is about connection: the kind that hurts, the kind that saves, and the kind that changes everything.
If you have any lingering questions, don’t worry, the story itself will guide you. But if something’s unclear, feel free to ask.
Enjoy!
My attention breaks from my reflection when the door opens, and Tarya and Ellona step inside, ready to support me no matter what comes next.
“Panicking again?” Tarya slides next to me in front of the mirror, the two of us forming a beautiful image together. She’s wearing a sleek black dress and heels, the kind she only puts on when she knows she won’t have to walk too far.
Ellona comes up behind me and wraps the tightest hug around my shoulders, grounding me with her calm presence. That’s the effect she always had. As my best friend and an alpha, it’s like she can read my feelings ninety-nine percent of the time.
“A little” I admit, smiling faintly at the beautiful image of the three of us in the mirror. They’re gorgeous. I’m not all that bad myself.
I turn my back to the mirror, gently sliding Ellona’s arm off my shoulders, making both look at me.
“Do you guys really want to come? I don’t want to take you away from your day off” I ask, still feeling a twinge of guilt.
Being the only omega in our group, I know low-key that Tarya and Ellona feel responsible for me in some ways, providing comfort where no one else could. It isn’t their job, but they act like it is.
In our own weird, platonic way, we’d formed our own little pack.
“You know I’m only coming for Jessie J.” Tarya says, making me laugh at her antics. She loves Jessie J, but having met her a few times before, she surely isn’t as starstruck as she once was. “And we want to support you, Nicky. Not just because this is going to be emotionally taxing, but because we love you and we love your voice”
“You guys are unreal” I say, finally stepping away to check my phone. It’s probably time to go; the car’s likely waiting.
“Let’s go before Gina drags us out by the hair” I joke, leaving the room with the two alphas trailing behind me.
We reach the car, and, as expected, Gina’s on the phone, organizing something none of us really care about. Gina’s trustworthy enough to have everything under control, we mostly just show up and do what we’re told.
That’s also how I ended up in this predicament.
Gina called with an invitation, saying it would be good exposure for our band’s first proper tour (just the UK and a few European cities, we couldn’t be away too long). What she forgot to mention: it was for a singing competition, only I would be performing, and Hayes would be there.
But it’s okay. Gina’s not ill-intentioned. She said I could say no if I wanted. I did want to, badly. But it wouldn’t be fair to Ellona and Tarya. They’d done everything to help and support me, and this tour was what we’d dreamed about since forming the band.
If this was what it took to sell out shows, I’d suck it up and play my part, even if it meant stepping onto a stage alone, performing in front of the judges from The Voice (including Jessie J!!), and later coming back as a guest mentor.
Hayes being there was just a detail. Nothing major. Nothing that should make me have a panic attack or hide in my nest. Even though that’s exactly what I wanted to do.
The studio isn’t far, and as soon as we park at the VIP entrance, I’m blinded by camera flashes. Tarya and Ellona immediately flank me, and security rushes us inside toward the dressing rooms.
“It’s always overwhelming” I say, sinking into the couch, leaning against Tarya’s mango-scented side.
Ellona settles into an armchair, and Gina sits beside her, still clicking on her phone. God knows what she’s doing.
“Look” Gina commands attention with her no-nonsense voice. We all focus on her, waiting for instructions. Her face is stern, but when she looks at me, her eyes soften.
“Nicki, all you have to do is go in there, sing with your beautiful voice, and get the hell out, okay?” she scoots closer in her chair. “If you feel anything at all that bothers you, we’ll stop.”
She means it seriously. I nod.
“I’ve got a car ready to take you to Doncaster afterward” she finally smiles, and my heart skips. Finally, something to look forward to: just me, my nest, and Hazel.
“Thank you, Gina. It’s going to be fine, I’m sure,” I say, comforting our agent who’s always worried about me.
“Okay then. I’ll call hair and makeup.” She stands, the phone already back in hand. “And you two, behave. Keep her calm.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Tarya grumbles. Ellona just nods.
Everything blurs after that. Hair, makeup, a new outfit, painfully tight shoes. Somehow, I end up backstage, alone. Tarya and Elly were taken somewhere with a better view of the performance. I breathe deeply and start vocal warm-ups. That’s what brings me back into my body just in time to see Jessie J (!!) heading towards me.
“Nichole!” she says, coming closer to give me a tight, friendly hug. “I’m so excited! I couldn’t believe my agent actually got you here.” she has the biggest smile on her face, and for some reason, that relaxes me, making me smile back. “I love your voice, and I just know you’ll be the best guest judge this studio has ever seen.”
I feel my cheeks heat up, hoping the darkness hides the flush. I’m not sure what went on with Gina and how she organized this, but it seems Jessie J wants me here (!!!), and that’s enough to cheer me up.
“I’m happy to be here. I can’t wait to come back and help you.” I say, quieter than her. She has a huge personality, and I can only dream of having half her energy. Omegas are naturally quieter and take up less space, but Jessie J is a beta, and she owns the room, a trait usually reserved for alphas. Usually, I’m only able to feel larger than life when I’m on stage performing with my girls.
“If this isn’t the season I win, I don’t know what else to do.” She says, before someone calls her name. She kisses my cheek before disappearing. I exhale, suddenly more excited than afraid.
“Nichole, you’re up first.” A producer approaches, holding a big tablet and wearing a headset way too big for his head. “You’re first. Everyone will have their backs turned to you. When you finish, they’ll turn around, and you just need to stay for some questions from the judges, then you’re off.” he explains absentmindedly, and I nod.
I’d heard from Gina that some original judges were back, including Jessie J, Tom Jones, Danny from The Script, and Will.I.Am — plus Hayes as a new judge. Because of that, they changed the format for the guest judges: we would all perform for them, and in editing, they’d reveal which guest judge was paired with each main judge. Something like that — I’d never been a big fan of these shows and rarely ever was invited to those. I’m pretty sure I passed Noah Kahan in the hallway, though. I love Noah Kahan.
“You’re on in 10. We’re just settling the judges in.” the producer adds before leaving, shouting orders into his microphone.
I start breathing exercises again. Before I know it, someone hands me a guitar and counts me in. The stage is dark, which comforts me, not being able to see the judges makes this feel like just another rehearsal. Or maybe a pub performance, and I always nail those.
I breeze through the song, a new track from our latest album; we picked it carefully so this would help with publicity — and I’m not even out of breath when I finish with the guitar solo. I just wish Taya and Elly were on stage with me. It feels a bit lonely, and I always expect to find them behind or next to me when I look around.
But before I can reflect on that, it’s over. The lights came back on fully, and the judges’ chairs turn toward me. I smile brightly, handing my guitar off to a stage assistant.
I make a conscious effort to find Hayes with my eyes, then immediately look away. I can’t smell or sense him at this distance, so that helps. A lot.
“Nichole, what an honor it is to have you here with us!” Danny says from his chair, and I smile. I love The Script, and I love that he knows who I am.
“Thank you, it’s an honor to be here!” I reply into the mic in my hand. The stand been taken away with my guitar.
“Obviously, this is the best part. Who invited Nichole to mentor our playoffs?” I hear his voice, but I don’t look. The crowd starts screaming guesses, many shout “Jessie,” but quite a few shout “Hayes,” which seems crazy to me.
“You all wish you knew, huh?” Jessie say, winking at me. “Your voice was magical, Nick. Our contestants can only hope to get you in their corner.”
This woman is a compliment machine, I gotta give it to her. I feel my face heat up again.
“Thank you for being here, Nichole. We can’t wait to have you back soon.” That is Tom Jones. Freaking Tom Jones talked to me. The little girl inside me is having a fit.
“Thank you, everyone. See you soon.” I say into the mic before waving at the crowd.
“And we’re off! Amazing job, guys. 10 minutes” A producer shouts, letting everyone know the cameras are off. Jessie gets up immediately and comes towards me on the stage.
“I hate how edited these things are, but you were amazing.” she says, and I thank her again. I look around, hoping to catch Tom Jones before he leaves. He’s one of the few celebrities I never had the chance to meet, but I just need to embarrass myself and tell him how his songs went triple platinum in my household when I was growing up.
When I turn to look the other way, I see him walking towards me. Not Tom Jones — no, that would be too lucky. Hayes Marshall himself, walking towards me as if he has every right to. It takes me a second or two, but I ignore him like he’s transparent and keep looking for Tom Jones.
“Looking for someone?” his voice breaks the silence around me. Obviously, he can’t take a hint.
“Yes. Did you see where Tom Jones went?” I ask, still not looking directly at him or his bright hazel green eyes I’m used to seeing on a much smaller figure.
“He’s always off to his dressing room as soon as the cameras are off. Sorry to disappoint.” he replies, and my shoulders sag. I guess I’ll go to my own dressing room. The girls are probably waiting for me there.
“Alright, I guess I’m going now. Nice to see you.” I say, not lingering on him before turning my back, knowing someone would guide me to where I can change back to my normal clothes, wipe off the makeup, and find my best friends.
“Wait, Nick,” he says, coming up beside me and making me stop in my tracks.
I open my mouth, breathing through it, knowing that if I used my nose, I’d smell his scent — he’s close enough for me to catch a whiff if I dare. I don’t.
“Yes?” I say, finally turning to him and staring blankly. I refuse to feel small next to him, even though I reach past his shoulders. Omegas are known to be short and small, but I’m 5’9”, the same height as Taya, who’s an alpha - but this guy is at least 6’3” or something. Back in the day, it would’ve made me feel protected and girly to be next to him. Now, it makes me want to kick him in the balls, so he’d be at eye level with me.
“I know this is awkward, but I’m happy to see you.” he says, and I keep breathing through my mouth, wondering if he was really wasting both our time like this. I have a car to catch, and Doncaster is at least a two-hour trip.
“Awkward? Of course not. I’m glad to see you.” I blatantly lie, giving him my best fake smile. “Look, I have to go meet my agent, but this was lovely. See you”
Never, I want to say, but I just give him another award-winning fake smile and rush toward someone who could guide me to the dressing room. It’s only when I’m in the hallway that I feel brave enough to breathe through my nose again.
I think the pressure from the girls to come with me — saying I was going to lose it just by being near Hayes, that I wouldn’t be okay, that they had to be there to support me — it got so loud that even I started to believe I wasn’t over him.
The nerves, the tension, the anxiety of just having him in the same building... It messed with my head more than I’d like to admit. I didn’t even perform with him, and still, it felt like too much.
And so, I lied to myself. Somewhere along the way, I convinced myself I wasn’t okay. That I hadn’t healed. That everything I kept saying — “I’m totally over him,” “It doesn’t affect me anymore” — was just performative. Honestly, even I couldn’t swallow that crap.
But here’s the truth: I was bonded to that man for life. There’s no real escape from a bond, not even a severed one like ours. I’m never going to fully recover from what he did to me.
But it’s been five years. Five whole years. And more therapy sessions than I care to count. Enough that I’ve gotten to a place where I can face whatever — whoever — is thrown at me.
Even my scent-matched bondmate.
“How are you feeling?” Taya is the one who breaks the silence once we’re finally settled into the car and on our way to Doncaster.
She decided to come with me, even though there wasn’t much there for her anymore. Her family used to be from Donny, but they moved to London ages ago. Elly said she’d be visiting her sister in Woking for the weekend and told me to give Hazel a million kisses from her.
“Incredibly fine, actually.” I reply, turning my body fully toward the alpha, reaching for her hand, needing that bit of comfort only your best friend can give. Her familiar mango scent wraps around me, grounding me, even though I already felt surprisingly okay. “It’s weird, of course, but I thought it was going to hurt, you know?”
I struggle to find the right words to explain it to her. She’s not bonded, so I know she won’t fully understand.
“It’s like... I could feel a little burning on my nape from his presence, and I had to make a real effort not to breathe in his scent, but being around him didn’t make me want to scream or cry or collapse. I just wanted to leave.” I keep going, knowing I’m rambling, but Taya’s eyes stay on me, focused. She’s listening. “It felt like when you meet an alpha at a bar, and something about him feels off. You just want to get as far away as possible.”
She squeezes my hand gently and nods.
“I see what you mean. Is the burning on your nape bond-related?” she asks. I shrug.
“Probably. I’m not sure. I hadn’t felt it in ages. But I didn’t crave his arms. I didn’t crave his presence or feel safe around him. It was like being near a stranger.”
Saying it out loud makes it hit deeper. That alpha used to be my entire world. I let him bond with me for life, and now he’s just a familiar stranger.
“I’m proud of you, Nicki. You’re incredible.” Taya brings my hand to her lips and presses a soft kiss to my fingers, smiling at me with that quiet strength she always has. I smile back. I really hit the jackpot with her.
“Well, I’m glad I didn’t have to see that dickhead’s face. I might’ve punched him again.” her mouth twists into a wicked little smirk, and her fingers flex slightly. After knowing her for over ten years, I can tell she’s remembering the exact moment she landed that punch years ago.
“You alphas are so weird.” I tease, shaking my head as I grab my phone from my purse, remembering to text my parents that I’ll be home in a couple of hours.
“But you love me.” she says. And I do. God, I really do. I don’t know what I would’ve done without her now and all those years go. I squeeze her hand a little tighter, the warmth grounding me from all the memories that sometimes lingered.
No matter how much time passed, some things it was impossible to forget. They festered in your mind, making you doubt yourself. And I wonder if Taya with her loud confidence and no-bullshit policy ever feels the same. If sometimes she catches herself thinking about the night we found out and the truth about Asher.
It was weird, but Taya’s studio felt like a little band nest. It was always filled with instruments, lyric sheets, crumpled paper balls — a sanctuary that made me feel safe. Like a nest, but instead of a pack, I was with my band.
Asher was hanging out with us, trying to get some lyrics done for our next album, while Hayes said he’d be busy until later — something about a publicity deal. Taya sat next to me with her guitar, softly humming a tune stuck in her mind.
The peace was shattered by the buzz of my phone, pulling me out of my little song refuge. An unknown number, of course. An SMS that would change my life forever:
“Exclusive photos,” the message read. “Hayes caught kissing an omega at a private party. Want to buy the photos before they go public?”
My heart raced, but before panic could take over, I tried to think it through. What were the chances it was real? I gripped Taya’s hand tightly, probably interrupting whatever she was doing, but I needed her silent support while my instincts strangled me. It had to be a lie — my sweet, caring alpha would never. My devoted bonded mate would never betray me.
Another buzz dragged me back, and the photos appeared. I opened them, and there it was — my devoted alpha, my bonded mate, kissing another woman. An omega, according to the message. My world shattered, the bondmark on the nape of my neck burning like it was on fire.
I stood up, dizzy and light-headed, feeling like I might collapse any second, like the ground was opening beneath me.
Before I could think, I found myself in front of Asher, showing him the messages and the pictures. He looked confused for a moment, but when he understood what he was seeing, he took a deep breath. His eyes flickered between the screen and me.
Taya, probably just as confused, came over and looked at the screen. Her sweet mango scent suddenly turned bitter, as if the fruit had gone too ripe — a clear sign of her rage.
But that wasn’t what caught my attention. What stopped me cold was Asher’s coffee scent: it didn’t change. And I knew this man like a brother. It was written all over his face: he’d known all along.
Asher’s betrayal was a heavy blow, and it hit Taya the hardest. That night, without wanting to hear his side, we told him to leave and never come back unless we said so. Of course, he never did.
Taya tried to stay strong for me. Her alpha poise made it impossible for her to stand by a distressed omega and do nothing. But even through my own pain, I could feel how much she needed comfort too. So that night, we offered each other soothing pheromones and held each other close.
We cried a lot but if anyone ever wondered, only the two of us would ever know how much.
One cruel truth is that sometimes the deepest heartbreaks come from your closest friends. Asher was like a brother to me; someone I trusted implicitly for years before that night. And that haunted me long after — therapy wasn’t just for being cheated on by my alpha. Asher wasn’t just a bystander… he was part of the betrayal. He let me suffer, knowing full well Hayes was having an affair, all while pretending to be my best friend and Taya’s partner.
I glance over at Taya, still sitting beside me. We’ve come a long way since then, but some scars never fully fade. And tonight, with Hayes so close, a sinking feeling twists in my stomach — like something’s about to go horribly wrong. Because if Hayes was close, we both knew that his loyal minion would be right next to him.
The week starts with Gina calling an emergency meeting at the studio. “Do you think this is about Jessie J?” I ask while staring hard at the wall, trying to make it focused. Taya slouches on the couch opposite me, taking up as much space as possible, while Elly sits next to me, her citrus scent wrapping around me and keeping me grounded.
The room today seems oddly distant, sounds a little muffled, like I am underwater or behind a pane of glass, and it takes me a moment to shake it off and focus.
“If she did, it’s probably because she felt like you’d outshine her,” Elly says, bumping my shoulder. “I think it’s about the tour.” That makes sense since the tour is coming up and there are things to finalize, and soon.
The studio door opens and Gina eyes us all before nodding for us to follow her outside. We get up, and Taya grumbles about how comfortable she was, but follows without lingering.
“I got us a conference room,” Gina says simply, leading us down the hall. We usually never have formal meetings in those rooms anymore; it feels too official. I guess whatever Gina needs to tell us is serious.
We settle around the table, and Taya sits next to me, probably sensing my frazzled nerves. She gives me a small smile, and I return it, grateful for her quiet support.
“Okay, don’t panic before I say this,” Gina says, setting up her laptop. For the first time, I notice how nervous she looks, despite her best effort to hide it.
“Okay?” Elly says, sharing my confusion.
“This is good news,” Gina adds. That only makes us exchange wary looks, realizing that whatever comes next definitely won’t be good news; no one looks this nervous giving good news.
“This is going to be a fucking headache, isn’t it?” Taya murmurs, and I bite back a laugh. Yes, probably.
“The label wants A&E to open for your tour,” Gina says, fumbling with her keypad as if distracted.
“Who?” Elly asks, and we all look at each other blankly.
“Ashes & Echoes,” Gina replies, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath before regaining her professional composure. I have never heard of them.
“I’m sorry, who?” Taya echoes, reading my mind.
“God, you guys are oblivious,” Gina says, rubbing her forehead like we’re the ones giving her a headache. “It’s Hayes’ new band.” She drops the bomb but won’t break eye contact. My mind fogs over, a dizzy haze washing over me — the room tilted slightly and my heartbeat quickened, but I force myself to stay grounded.
“Isn’t that dickhead a solo act?” she asks, and I finally snap back to reality. Something bubbles up inside me and I let out a snort — an honest-to-God laugh.
“Are you pranking us?” I finally ask, when I realize she’s not laughing with us, my laugh dissolves into disbelief and a sobering realization makes me get up from my seat and look directly at Gina’s eyes. “Gina, are you completely out of your mind?” I ask once I can feel my face hot, my blood boiling in my veins, and the need to screech in the bottom of my throat. “Do you want me to tour with the alpha I have a bondmark with?” I lean on the table, getting closer. “What about Hazel? You said she could come on the UK leg. What am I supposed to do?” I push my chair back. Taya grabs my fists, prying open my hands to reveal the red nail marks I’ve dug into my palms.
I barely felt the pain — like my body was numb in places, distant from the chaos of my thoughts.
“Nichole, I know it’s not ideal but—”
I slam my free hand on the table, feeling the smack all the way up my arm, grounding myself.
“I’m not going to jeopardize Hazel, and I’m not going on tour with the asshole who cheated on me. Isn’t he popular enough? His shitty band is probably bigger than us anyway.” I cut Gina off before she can speak again with another slam of my hand. “I don’t want to fucking hear it!” I turn my back and storm out, my friends a blurred mess in my vision. I’m not going to cry about that asshole again.
My feet lead me to the studio room that I was in before with the girls, and I sit on the couch for a second before I realize I’m too riled up for that, deciding to pace the floor instead.
I will be damned if Hayes and his shitty band open for my women-empowering band. That man couldn’t care less about the woman he bonded with; how can any fan trust us to give them the best show and a safe space? Gina must be out of her mind to suggest this, considering all the problems it would cause — not to mention the nightmare it would be for Hazel and the tour.
“Hey, babes,” I hear from the doorway. I smell her before I see her. Elly’s face is full of sympathy, her breath huffing out as she watches me pace. “Nick,” she says gently, placing a hand on my shoulder. I glare, though I know it’s not her fault, and she couldn’t have known. Out of the three of us, she is the only one not there when it all went down, but my rage drowns reason.
“Leave me alone,” I say, trying to pry my arms from her. But Elly pulls me into a bear hug, nuzzling her nose on my cheek. That alone melts me — the rage vanishes, replaced by worry and sadness.
“It’s okay, Nicki. I know,” she whispers, still hugging me. I lean into her, breathing in her citrus scent deeply.
“I’m sorry,” I say softly. “This could become a huge mess, Elly.” Tears slip down my cheeks, and a sob escapes. I hug her tighter, seeking comfort.
“I know, babe, you’re spiraling. I can smell your distress from rooms away,” Elly says, holding my shoulders so she can look me in the eyes. Her adorable frown shows her worry.
“It’s loud in my head, Elly,” I admit, wiping my cheeks with the back of my hand. “Like the world is too bright and too far at the same time.”
“I got you, Nicki. Taya and Gina do too. Gina wouldn’t suggest this without reason, and you know it,” Elly’s voice is calm, soothing me when the noise in my mind is too much to bear outside as well.
I nod, fitting myself against her again, willing my heart to slow. I know she’s right, but the scared, worried side of me — the one that needs headache meds regularly — is ready for the world to fall apart around me.
After a few more minutes of cuddling and calming words, I finally feel strong enough to go back and hear Gina out, even though I’m certain my answer will be no. At least it will be a nicer no.
We open the studio door and see Taya standing there, still.
“Have you been here the whole time?” I ask, amused, hugging her before we head back to the conference room.
“Yeah, I couldn’t handle the distress, but I didn’t want to intrude,” she says, smiling faintly despite the crease between her eyebrows. I press my finger there, forcing her to stop, and she rolls her eyes.
“It’s fine, Taya. We’ll hear it and decide as a band.”
Back in the conference room, Gina waits with a guilty expression that quickly turns bleak. She hates showing emotion, that’s for sure.
“We’re ready to hear you out, Gina. But honestly, I doubt we’ll accept it, and we definitely don’t need those losers opening for us,” Taya says in her no-bullshit voice that I love, and we settle again around the table.
“Girls, I know you don’t want to hear this, but it makes sense commercially,” Gina begins, turning her laptop toward us.
“Explain,” Taya says, scanning graphs and numbers across the screen. I sigh, knowing this means the label’s argument will be about numbers, always numbers.
“It’s not just ticket sales,” Gina says, voice steadier despite her obvious discomfort. “It’s the organic reach. Their engagement is insane. Hayes’ fans are feral, and a huge chunk of the public still associates you two as a unit. You never gave them closure. This tour, with him involved, would be the closure or chaos. Either way, it sells.”
I feel Taya shift beside me, my heartbeat thuds unevenly. For a moment, I feel like I’m watching myself from outside, detached, as if I’m an observer and not the one living this nightmare. Gina doesn’t stop, though.
“People are already speculating online. You haven’t been together for years, and there are still fan pages for you two. When media caught on the fact that you’d be on The Voice, people went crazy over you both being in the same room for the first time in years, guessing if you’d reunite, fight, or be completely in love again...”
My mouth drops in disbelief. “Excuse me?”
Gina raises her hands. “I’m not saying you will, just that they think you might. We can’t buy or manufacture that kind of drama. And right now, the market is flooded. You want your music to chart internationally? America, Australia, Asia? This is your ticket.”
“By selling my trauma,” I say low. “By packaging the worst period of my life with a pretty bow and selling it to people who don’t know what it’s like to be betrayed, marked, and left bleeding in silence.”
“I’m not saying it’s fair,” Gina replies, with real regret in her expression, like she doesn’t want to do this, but needs to “But it is the business. And if we’re going to play, we need to be smart. Ashes & Echoes will pull numbers, but it’s the narrative that will make you explode. Exes, bonded mates, former bandmates — forced to share a stage? It’s like printing money. Can you imagine the drama on TikTok? This will be bigger than that Olivia Rodrigo, Sabrina Carpenter and Joshua Basset drama”
Elly lets out a low whistle, and I swallow hard, feeling my insides twist.
“We have to think about Hazel, too,” Taya reminds us. “If you’re on tour together, it won’t just be professional. She will be caught in the middle of what could be a very traumatizing discovery.”
I nod, my voice thick. “Exactly. So, no.”
“No one’s asking you to parade your private life, Nick,” Gina says, softer now. “But the truth is... he’s coming back one way or another. You can either control the stage, the optics, the narrative — or let the label decide for you.”
I blink at her, the words hitting me like ice water, but not in the way she thinks. I sit up straighter, my back no longer touching the chair, my arms holding my weight forward in the table.
“You think I care about optics?” My voice is low, steady now, more dangerous than it was when I was yelling. “Let me be very clear: I don’t give a fuck about headlines. I care about this band. I care about Hazel. I care about my fans.”
Taya agrees with a nod, and I feel her hand resting on my knee under the table, calm and grounding. Elly exhales slowly, the way she always does when she’s proud but trying not to make it a thing.
I force myself to breathe through the haze creeping at the edges of my consciousness, fighting the urge to shut down, to become a ghost in my own skin.
I look Gina in the eyes, no longer angry, just sure. “If this is the only way the label sees us making it big, then maybe we need a new definition of big. One that doesn’t come with a knife to the throat.” I push my chair back and stand, gently this time. “Thanks for the pitch, Gina. We’ll think about it. But if Hayes and his band come near us, it’ll be on our terms. Not the labels. Not yours.”
And with that, I turn and walk out of the room — this time not running, not storming. Just leading. And I know Taya and Elly will be right behind me.
We take the car directly to my apartment, and we’re all quiet on the way there, lost in our own thoughts. I need my nest, and I need comfort before I can start talking this through with them — they expect that, knowing me too well.
Once we get there, I go straight to my nest, expecting them to follow, and they do. Soon enough, my shoes are off and I’m curled in the corner of my nest, hugging a blanket around me. For a moment, the walls seem to tilt slightly, and the colors of the room wash out, like I’m trapped behind a fogged glass. It’s always like this sometimes. Reality feels thin, and I have to remind myself that this is really happening, that I’m really here, surrounded by people who care.
The girls follow in what could be seconds or hours, time is blurring together, they take off their shoes and sit around me. They haven’t needed to ask permission for years to enter my nest. I look at them, trying to breathe evenly, urging them to start the conversation we need to have.
“She’s got a point,” Elly finally says. “A shitty one, but still. A point.”
I sigh, hating to hear those words, but deep down knowing it’s true. “We’re not turning my trauma into tour PR just because it’ll trend on TikTok.”
“No,” Taya snaps. “But maybe we turn him into a cautionary tale. If they want drama, fine — they can watch us burn him alive onstage. On our terms.”
Elly nods. “We do the tour. But with conditions. Absurd, demanding, bulletproof conditions. And if they don’t like any of them — we walk.” The steady rhythm of their voices pulls me out of the haze a little. It’s like an anchor in a sea of drifting thoughts; one I desperately need right now.
“What kind of conditions?” I ask, even though I already know I’m in. I just need to hear it out loud. Their full confidence, the alpha posturing — it’s enough to make me feel like I can trust them to decide. When it gets too loud in my head, I need them to step up and help me, and they never fail to do so.
“First,” Taya says, counting on her fingers, “no shared floors at the hotels. Better yet, different hotels altogether. No green rooms within sniffing distance. No off-stage contact — none — unless you initiate it.”
“Second,” Elly picks up, cool and sharp, “you approve the setlist. The lineup. They go on first, leave first. No duets. No old songs. No callbacks to the ‘good old days.’ They are Ashes & Echoes, and we are Siren — two completely independent bands. This is not a reunion special.”
“Third,” Taya grins like a wolf, making me smile with her, “everyone on tour signs an NDA. From roadies to lighting tech — I don’t care if they don’t know or if they’re not sure. Hazel isn’t up for discussion. Her name doesn’t leave our mouths. And if it does, we sue whoever said it into oblivion.”
I nod enthusiastically. Although I made it my mission to keep my private life out of everyone’s radar, I’m sure people wonder, and those who are around us during concerts are probably the first to create gossip. I know they don’t know, but this would be an assurance.
“Fourth,” I cut in, my voice steady now, “if he even tries to use the bond, the mark, the past, anything against me... he’s out. I don’t care if it’s mid-tour. I’ll drag him offstage myself.” That makes Taya smirk, nodding along.
“I’ll have that in writing in no time.”
“And lastly,” Elly folds her arms, eyes gleaming, “he doesn’t get to look at you like he still knows you. Not once.” I let out a breath. A small laugh escapes — dry, but real.
“You two are terrifying.” I say, holding out my hands so they’ll both hold them. I don’t know how I could possibly get through life without them.
“We’re your pack,” Elly says simply.
Taya raises an eyebrow, the side smile still in place. “Damn right we are.”
And just like that, the decision is made. If the world wants a show, we’ll give them one, but the spotlight stays on us. Always.
The conference room smells like cold coffee and corporate power plays. The label’s sleek glass table stretches between us and them — Hayes and Asher, both looking like they own the place, like the assholes they are. When Asher walks in, I don’t flinch. Not shocked, just… expecting it. I can tell Taya’s waiting for it too. Where the dick is, the head’s right behind.
Then two others come in — an alpha and a beta — strangers to me, yet unmistakably compatible. Their scents hover just at the edge of my awareness, tugging at something I am not ready to face. Names unknown, but the match is clear. Of course they’re scent matches. Of course this has to get worse.
Gina sits at the end of the table beside Elly, and I’m flanked by my bandmates, ready to back me up if needed. Hayes doesn’t take his eyes off me, studying every shift and twitch like I’m some puzzle he can solve. I can’t bear looking at the other scent-matched alpha, but my gaze keeps drifting to the beta. Omegas rarely scent-match betas, but it’s impossible to ignore the pull. His presence casts a shadow over me, and I pray my blockers are strong enough to mute my scent for any compatible mates.
I swallow hard, a tight knot in my chest. Three scent matches in one room. I want to disappear. Hayes was the only one I’d ever truly known, but now there are two more — inches away, like a trap closing in. My biology is making me a pack, and they’re all in a band together. Plus, friends with Hayes and Asher. That alone is enough to mark them as unsafe.
A strange haze creeps at the edges of my vision, as if the sharp details of the room are softening, like I’m looking through a veil. My heartbeat pounds so loudly I’m afraid it’ll drown out every other sound. I blink, trying to ground myself, but the sensation lingers, a distance between me and the scene unfolding.
The label rep clears her throat, adjusting her blazer, fidgeting like she can feel the tension too. Two bands with history — one refusing to play nice, the other… unpredictable.
“Alright, everyone, let’s get started. I’m Luna, here to outline the tour demands and make sure we’re all on the same page. Gina’s terms were drafted by Siren’s management, and I’m confident we can come to an agreement.”
Gina gives me a quick nod and leans in. “The conditions are non negotiable,” she says flatly. “Separate hotels, no shared green rooms, no off stage contact unless my clients initiate it.”
Elly adds, “We approve the setlist and order. Their band opens, leaves as quickly as possible. No duets, no callbacks. They’re Ashes & Echoes, we’re Siren. Separate acts.”
“NDAs signed by all. Personal matters are off limits. Breach means legal action,” Taya’s voice slices sharp. I’ve never felt more protected — these women have my back.
Luna nods, accepting the terms. The boys’ agent looks lost, like she’s thinking our demands are too extreme. But she doesn’t know how necessary they are.
Before the tension can thicken further, a shy voice breaks in. “I’m Cole.” All eyes turn to the beta sitting farthest from the table’s head, cheeks faintly pink. My heart stutters — despite myself, I find him endearing. God dammit.
“That’s River,” he adds quickly, gesturing to the other alpha. “Sorry for not introducing ourselves sooner, the energy is heavy.” He babbles a little, and I bite my lip to hide a smile. He’s probably as much of an asshole as the rest of them, doesn’t matter how cute he is.
Most of the meeting, I retreat inside my own head, especially overwhelmed by the new scents filling the room — as if Hayes’ presence wasn’t enough. My head throbs, the bond mark on my neck burning like it’s waking up after years of silence and distance, stirred by its owner’s proximity. Asher feels almost invisible by comparison, the introduction to new problems dulling his impact on my emotional state.
A normal omega might be thrilled to find two new scent matches. But normal has never been my story. Scent matching can be beautiful — or it can break you. That kind of pack life is not for me; the risk outweighs the reward.
“We’re all adults and professionals,” the agent finally says, and I feel myself waking up from whatever stupor I was in. “Surely the tour can run smoothly if boundaries are respected. Isn’t all this a bit much to put in writing?”
Hayes smirks, his eyes flicking to mine. Asher crosses his arms, radiating tension. I force myself not to glance at Cole or River any more than necessary. The pull is hard to ignore biology doesn’t care that they’re dangerous for my situation. But once bitten, twice shy.
“These are our terms,” I say, voice sharp. “If you’re not willing to sign, we’ll find a new opening act.” I usually let the girls handle meetings like this, but this one’s too important. I’m the lead, and I won’t compromise. I laser focus my eyes on Hayes’, and I stare back at him pouring all my rage in that eye contact. His smirk finally vanishes.
The agent sighs like she’s dealing with a stubborn child. It grates on me. Gina gives me a sharp look that freezes the words rising to my throat. She can read me too well — I’m a breath away from walking out and ending this meeting altogether.
"I’m sure your clients won’t have trouble leaving mine alone, Carla,” Gina says smoothly, a perfect mask of challenge on her face.
Carla meets her gaze, unreadable. “Of course not,” she replies.
“Well, so it shouldn’t be a problem, right?” I ask, looking at the woman who wanted so badly to have the upper hand. “I’m sure you can understand that this is a very inconvenient turn of events.” I tap my fingers on the table. “The fact that we’re even considering this should leave you on your knees in gratefulness.” That was my turn to smile, looking back at my bonded mate. There’s a different look in his eyes now — searching, wary, as if trying to piece together the person in front of him.
"You don’t have an option, do you?" Asher leans closer, resting an elbow on the table. The smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth is sharp enough to cut, and the faint crackle of dominance that sparks in the air doesn’t make me flinch. His dominance means nothing to me. “The label wants us to open for you. You’ll have to accept, no matter how much you hate it.”
I stare at him, slow and burning, locking down every instinct that threatens to rise. The bond mark on my neck hums faintly — an unwelcome reminder of old wounds — and I force it down. Not here. Not now. Not in front of him.
“Maybe,” I say quietly, brushing an imaginary speck of dust from the table. “But accepting doesn’t mean bending.” My voice is soft, deliberate, and lined with steel. “We have conditions, and if you can’t play by them, I’ll put my foot down. The label might want your band, but don’t forget — we can walk too. Do you really want to test that?” I raise an eyebrow, challenging him openly. “I assume you’re aware I have no issue canceling a tour and paying for the breach of contract.”
The silence that falls is charged, pressing down until it’s nearly suffocating. Somewhere to my left, Elly shifts, brushing the edge of my hand like a quiet reassurance. At the end of the table, Gina doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move, a picture of calculated calm.
Asher narrows his eyes, and I can almost feel Hayes studying me, trying to decipher the changes in the woman he used to know. Not the Nick he remembers. Not anymore. This one doesn’t flinch as much, doesn’t cower in front of men who think they’re bigger and more important than they are. Not after all I’ve been through and all the holes I dug myself out of.
“You’re not doing us a favor by being here,” I continue, voice rising just enough for every person in the room to hear. “This is a transaction. We give you a stage. You respect every line we’ve drawn. If you can’t, we walk, and you can explain to the label why our little ‘reunion’ fell apart before it began.”
I lean back, brushing the tension from my hands as I tilt my head, looking at Carla like I already know the answer. “So, do we have a deal?” I ask, voice soft as silk, sharp as a knife. “Or are you ready to crawl back to the label and tell them why this ‘reunion’ went up in flames?”
Luna looks helpless, and I can’t help but smirk. Whatever happens, one thing’s certain: our side is winning by a mile.
