Page 139 of Beautifully Scarred Omega

Synthera isn’t what I thought it was. Neither are the men who built it.

And the worst part is, I think I knew. Somewhere underneath the mission and the need to keep my distance, I think I already knew.

I’d needed them to be the villains. It made everything simpler. If they were dangerous, I could keep my distance and do my job and walk away at the end without looking back. And now I don’t know how to walk away.

I also know, with a certainty I can feel in my bones, that I need to find whoever is sabotaging their company and shut them down. Because someone is trying to destroy the thing they’ve built, and the thought of anyone threatening Equinox and the legacy Max built for a mother who never got to see it—it makes me want to tear them apart.

I get out of the car and walk toward the building, the evening air cool against my face.

I cross the atrium, take the elevator up, and make my way down the corridor to my room. The door closes behind me and I press my back against the wall.

For the first time, I can see the possibility of a life beyond the one I’ve built for myself.

And I feel hope.

Terrifying, fragile hope.

I close my eyes. And for once, I don’t fight it.

That night, the nightmares don’t come. Instead, I dream of alphas with kind eyes and gentle hands who stand around me like walls that keep the dark out instead of locking it in. Max, Ethan, and Finn—steady and close and so, so real.

When I wake, the morning light is soft through the window and my cheeks are wet. But this time, the tears aren’t from fear.

CHAPTER 37

Max

The knock at the door comes during In Bruges.

It’s one of my favorite films but I haven’t watched it in years. Finn picked it tonight—said we needed something that wasn’t work or the investigation. So here we are, the three of us sprawled across the living room, the fire low, the whiskey out, Colin Farrell on the screen doing something reckless in a medieval city.

We’re in the middle of the bell tower scene when the knock comes.

“Expecting anyone?” Finn asks, already shifting forward on the couch.

Ethan and I both shake our heads.

Finn goes to the door. From where I’m sitting, I can only see a sliver of the hallway, the warm light from the porch, and the darkness beyond it. Then I see a small figure standing on our doorstep.

Sophie.

“Soph, what’s up?” The easy warmth in Finn’s voice sharpens into concern.

She steps inside and she’s half-soaked. It must have started raining while she was walking over—her hair is plastered to her face in dark, wet strands, and her white shirt is clinging to her skin, translucent in places where the rain has soaked through. Her sneakers squeak against the floor.

Ethan is already up, disappearing into the hallway and returning with a towel. “Come on, let’s get you dried up.”

“No, I’m fine.” She waves it off, but her hands are shaking. It isn’t from the cold. I can see that immediately. She’s nervous. Her jaw is tight, her shoulders are pulled up around her ears, and she won’t look at any of us directly.

I’ve never seen her like this. I’ve seen her angry, guarded, defiant, controlled. I’ve seen her smile and fight and lean into my hand in the dark of a car. But I’ve never seen Sophie nervous, and the sight of it does something to my chest that I wasn’t prepared for.

She’s soaked and shaking and she looks like a beautiful mess, and all I want to do is cross the room and pull her into me.

Instead, I watch her sit on the couch across from us, perched on the edge of it, spine straight, hands clasped between her knees.

Finn is already pouring her a glass of whiskey. He hands it to her without a word and she downs it in one go, setting the glass on the side table with a quiet thud.

She stares at it for a moment, and then she looks up.