Chapter Fifty one.

Micah’s POV

The pack house is quieter than usual.

Ivy's working and..

And..

Callum hasn’t come downstairs yet.

I know it’s normal—he’s been through hell, and healing isn’t linear—but it still gnaws at me. The house doesn’t feel whole when he’s not moving through it, laughing softly at some dumb joke, rolling his eyes at Theo and Elias’s possessiveness, or making coffee just the way I like it.

I tuck my legs beneath me on the couch, staring at the untouched mug on the table. I made it for him over an hour ago, but he hasn’t come down.

“He’s okay,” I murmur to myself. “He’s just resting.”

Still, the knot in my chest won’t ease.

It’s not like I don’t trust him to take care of himself—I do—but Callum is a Beta, and we all know how stubborn he can be. He holds things close, locks them away, tries to make himself smaller when he’s hurting. And I’ve seen what that does to him.

I glance toward the stairs.

Maybe I should check on him.

Before I can move, heavy footsteps sound from behind me, and then a warm body drops onto the couch beside me. Theo.

He exhales sharply, rubbing a hand down his face. His suit jacket is gone, his tie loosened, the tension in his shoulders barely concealed.

“You’re thinking too hard,” he mutters.

I huff. “You don’t even know what I’m thinking about.”

Theo side-eyes me. “It’s Callum.”

I don’t even try to deny it.

Theo sighs, tipping his head back against the couch. “He’s okay, Micah.”

I chew my lip, fiddling with the edge of my sleeve. “You don’t know that.”

“He’s resting.”

I nod, but it doesn’t make me feel better.

Theo shifts, turning toward me. “You want to check on him?”

I hesitate. I do, but I don’t want to hover, don’t want him to feel smothered.

Theo must see the war on my face because he just nudges my knee with his. “Go,” he says simply. “He needs you more than he’ll admit.”

I swallow down the lump in my throat and nod.

When I slip upstairs, I pause outside Callum’s door, pressing my palm against the wood. The bond between us hums softly, there, but quieter than it should be.

I enter my room and move towards the pile of blankets that is our Callum.

“Micah?” His voice is rough with sleep.

The nest is a mess of blankets and pillows, the room dimly lit. I slip inside, crawling into the warmth without waiting for an invitation. Callum watches me, something unreadable in his expression, but when I reach for him, he doesn’t pull away.

Instead, he melts.

His breath stutters as he folds against me, his forehead dropping to my shoulder, his arms slipping around my waist. I hold him tight, running my fingers through his hair, pressing my cheek to the top of his head.

“I’ve got you,” I whisper.

Callum exhales shakily. “I know.”

And for now, that’s enough.

~~~

Callum drifts in and out of sleep in my arms, his breath warm against my collarbone. I stay still, letting him rest, soaking in the quiet comfort of holding him like this. But even as I focus on him, something else pulls at me—a familiar tension through the bond.

Theo.

His emotions are a tangled mess, tightly wound, pressing against my senses like a storm just out of reach. I close my eyes and let myself feel it. The exhaustion, the frustration. The deep, aching protectiveness that’s always there, stronger now, heavier.

I know what it’s about.

He’s worried about us.

About Callum. About me. About Ivy.

It’s suffocating him, and as much as I want to stay here, curled up with Callum, I know I need to go to Theo.

Carefully, I ease out of the nest, tucking the blankets around Callum before slipping out the door.

Theo is in his office when I find him, sitting at his desk, rubbing his temples. His jacket is draped over the chair, shirt sleeves rolled up, tie discarded.

“You’re thinking too loud,” I say, leaning against the doorframe.

His eyes flick up to me, dark and unreadable. “I could say the same to you.”

I step inside, shutting the door behind me. “You okay?”

Theo exhales sharply. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

I move closer, stopping beside his chair. “I mean it, Theo.”

His jaw tightens. “It’s handled.”

I feel the anger simmering under the surface, the weight of something unspoken pressing down on him. I don’t push—not yet. Instead, I crawl onto his lap, straddling him, threading my fingers into his hair.

He lets out a slow breath, his hands settling on my hips.

“You’re tense,” I murmur, kissing the spot just below his ear.

His grip tightens. “You’re distracting.”

“That’s the idea.”

He exhales again, but some of the tension eases. I nuzzle into his neck, pressing closer, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat.

For a while, neither of us speak. We just breathe.

Then, softly, I say, “I want to mark Ivy.”

Theo stills.

His emotions shift—something sharper, possessive—but not in a no way. More like… desire."

“Omegas can’t mark Alphas,” he says, his voice low.

“I know.”

“Or Betas.”

I nod against his shoulder.

“But each other…”

I pull back slightly to meet his gaze. “I love her, Theo. You know I do.”

His eyes search mine, dark and unreadable. “I know.”

I swallow. “I want to make it official. If she wants it.”

Theo’s grip on my hips flexes. "Both of you are mine." He states with a growl.

I simply nod at my possessive Alpha.

After a long moment, he nods. “If Ivy wants it, then I don't mind."

Relief floods through me, warm and steady.

I kiss him, slow and deep, pouring everything I feel into it. He kisses back just as fiercely, as if he’s claiming me all over again.

And maybe, in some ways, he is.