Beautifully Broken Omega: A Dark Reverse Harem Omegaverse Romance, page 27
The feeling of her muscles spasming around us as her own climax hits triggers our releases simultaneously. Nolan and I come together, our knots swelling to lock us inside her as we fill her with our seed.
“You’re ours, Kit,” I growl against her throat as the aftershocks rock through all of us. “Completely and utterly ours.”
She collapses against my chest, spent and satisfied, completely claimed by her pack in the most primal way possible. She looks up at him, a satisfied smile on her lips, “Yours.”
* * *
It’s been three days since Kit’s artificial heat finally subsided, and I know it’s time. We’ve been waiting—all of us—for this moment when her mind would be crystal clear, when hormones wouldn’t cloud her judgment or make her feel obligated to say yes out of biological need. The time during her heat was the most intense, incredible experience of my life, bringing me closer to another human being than I’d ever thought possible. But more than that, it showed us how Kit completed our pack in ways we could only have dreamed of—like the final piece of a puzzle we hadn’t even known was incomplete.
Now, sitting in the passenger seat of our BMW with the small velvet box burning a hole in my jacket pocket, I can barely contain my nerves. My palms are sweating, something that hasn’t happened since my first day in the military. The weight of the ring feels enormous, representing everything we want, everything we hope for.
Declan fidgets beside me in the backseat, his usual easy confidence replaced by raw anxiety. I can smell the stress rolling off him in waves—sharp and acidic beneath his normal warm scent. “What if she says no?” he asks for the tenth time since we left Cartier. “What if we’re moving too fast? What if she feels trapped?”
“Then we’ll be patient,” I tell him, meaning every word despite the fear clawing at my chest. “We’ll wait. We’ll be there for her and love her until she says yes.”
But the truth is, I can’t imagine her saying no. Not after everything we’ve shared, everything we’ve been through together. The way she looks at us, touches us, the way her scent blooms with happiness when we walk into a room—surely that means something. But the possibility of rejection still makes my chest tight with a fear I haven’t felt since Emily died.
Nolan navigates the familiar streets toward home, his knuckles white where they grip the steering wheel. He’s trying to project calm, but I can see the tension in his massive shoulders, the way his jaw clenches every time we hit a red light.
When we finally arrive at the estate, pulling through the iron gates that have become synonymous with safety and home, the familiar scent of vanilla and cinnamon greets us before we even open the car doors. Kit has been baking every day since her heat ended, filling our home with the most incredible creations—elaborate cakes that look like works of art, delicate pastries that melt on your tongue, bread that smells like heaven itself.
We’ve had so many sweets that we started bringing them to the office, watching our employees’ faces light up when they discover Kit’s latest masterpiece in the break room. When Mrs. Winters tried one of Kit’s lemon tarts—the crust so perfectly buttery it crumbled at first touch, the filling tart enough to make your mouth pucker before the sweetness hit—and I mentioned our girlfriend had made it, she just gave me a knowing look. Her eyes had crinkled with amusement and something that looked suspiciously like approval. I’m pretty sure she suspected exactly what was happening, but she never asked questions.
Kit had officially quit working at Sentinel after Roman’s abduction—it took some convincing, but she eventually agreed when we sat her down and told her our actual net worth, complete with bank statements and investment portfolios. Her eyes had gone wide when she saw the numbers, the reality of just how well we could provide for her finally sinking in. She’d hesitated then, and I understood why. Independence was precious to her after everything she’d been through, after being controlled and diminished for so long.
I’d suggested she could go back to school if she wanted, get her law degree, start a business, do anything her brilliant mind could conceive. She’d just said she’d think about it, but I could see the wheels turning behind those storm-gray eyes, possibilities unfurling like flowers in spring.
Now we find her in our massive kitchen, and the sight stops me in my tracks. She’s covered in flour—white dusting across her cheek, her dark hair escaping from its messy bun, even a smudge on the tip of her nose. She’s wearing a simple yellow sundress that makes her skin glow, the fabric soft and feminine in a way that makes my heart clench with love. The kitchen island is covered with cooling racks holding what looks like chocolate croissants, their golden surfaces gleaming under the warm lights.
Her whole face lights up when she sees us—not just a smile, but a complete transformation. Her eyes sparkle, her cheeks flush pink with joy, and that beautiful dimple appears in her left cheek. Her joy wraps around me like sunlight, warm and overwhelming in its intensity.
We all go to her immediately, drawn like magnets to steel. I reach her first, cupping her flour-dusted face and kissing her softly, tasting sugar and vanilla on her lips. Nolan moves behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist as he presses a kiss to her neck, breathing in her scent mixed with the aroma of whatever she’s been creating. Declan captures her hand, bringing it to his lips to press a reverent kiss to her palm.
“You’ve been busy,” Nolan murmurs against her throat, and she shivers at the contact.
“I was restless,” she admits, leaning back into his embrace. “So I thought I’d try that chocolate croissant recipe I’ve been wanting to perfect.”
“Kit,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel, “there’s something we’d like to show you.”
She looks between the three of us, flour still dusting her cheek like fairy dust. Something in our expressions must give us away because her brow furrows slightly, confusion mixing with curiosity in her beautiful eyes. “Okay,” she says hesitantly, clearly picking up on the nervous energy crackling between us like electricity.
The drive across town feels endless. Every red light, every turn, every mile stretches like an eternity. Tension thrums between us like a live wire, so thick I can almost taste it. Kit sits in the passenger seat, stealing glances at us in the rearview mirror, clearly sensing that something significant is happening but not knowing what.
My mind drifts to yesterday, when we’d finally told her everything. The three of us had sat her down in our living room, unsure how to break the news. I’d been the one to speak first, my voice steady despite the gravity of what I was saying.
“Kit, we need you to know—Roman has been taken care of. He’ll never hurt you again.”
I’d expected questions, maybe tears, perhaps even anger that we’d acted without telling her first. Instead, she’d simply nodded her head, as if she’d already known what that meant, what we were capable of. Her response had been a single word: “Good.”
No shock, no moral outrage, no demands for details. Just acceptance and what looked suspiciously like relief.
Then I’d told her about the trafficking ring, how Roman had been the one coordinating it all, using his legal connections to protect the operation. Her eyes had widened in shock at first, but then she’d shaken her head slowly.
“It doesn’t surprise me. Not really. Roman always saw omegas as property. I’m even more glad he’s gone now.”
When we’d revealed the truth about Sentinel—our real work, what we actually did for the government—I’d watched her face carefully, waiting for the horror, the disgust, the rejection we’d all been terrified might come.
Instead, something that looked almost like pride had flickered in her eyes.
“Some monsters need to be killed,” she’d said simply. “The legal system failed me completely with Roman. If you hadn’t done what you did, he would have killed me eventually.”
When she’d asked why we did it, I’d told her about Emily. About my sister’s murder, about the wealthy alpha who’d walked free, about how every monster we eliminated felt like finally helping her. Kit’s eyes had filled with tears of understanding, and she’d reached out to take my hand.
“I’m proud of you,” she’d whispered. “All of you. For using your pain to protect people who can’t protect themselves.”
In that moment, I’d known with absolute certainty that eliminating Roman had been the right thing to do, and I’d felt no remorse about it whatsoever. When it turned out that Roman was behind the omega trafficking ring we’d been hunting, it had given us the perfect opportunity. Justice disguised as operational necessity.
Now, sitting in this car with the ring box burning a hole in my pocket, I’m grateful we told her everything yesterday. She knows who we are, what we do, what drives us. And she’s still here, still choosing us.
When we pull up in front of the building we purchased last week—a charming two-story structure with large windows and exposed brick—Kit peers out the window with growing confusion.
“What are we doing here?” she asks as we get out of the car, her voice small in the afternoon air. “This place is closed.”
It used to be a restaurant called Bella Vista—an Italian place that had been struggling for months before finally shuttering. But I can see past the “For Lease” signs and darkened windows to what it could become. What it will become.
Nolan produces a set of keys from his pocket, and Kit’s confusion deepens. “How do you have—?”
“Kit,” I begin, my heart hammering against my ribs so hard I’m surprised she can’t hear it, “we need to ask you something. But first... come inside.”
The front door opens with a soft click, and we step into the empty space. Afternoon sunlight streams through the large windows, illuminating dust motes that dance in the golden beams. The space is beautiful—original hardwood floors that creak softly under our feet and soaring ceilings with rustic wooden beams.
“It’s beautiful,” Kit whispers, her voice echoing slightly in the empty space. She moves deeper into the room, her fingers trailing along the brick wall. “But I still don’t understand why we’re here.”
I can see her mind working, trying to piece together why we’d bring her to an abandoned restaurant, why Nolan has keys, why we all look like we’re about to jump out of our skin with nervous energy.
We position ourselves in the center of the main dining area, where sunlight pools on the worn hardwood floors like a natural spotlight. Kit stands in the middle of us, still looking confused but trusting, always trusting us even when she doesn’t understand.
The weight of the moment settles over us like a blanket. Then, we all drop to one knee around her.
The look of shock that crosses her face is almost comical. Her mouth falls open, her eyes going wide as saucers as she realizes what’s happening. Her hand flies to her chest, and I can see the moment understanding dawns.
I speak first, my voice rough with emotion as I pull out the ring box. My hands shake slightly as I open it, revealing the ring we’d spent hours choosing—a stunning vintage piece with three perfectly matched stones representing our bond. The center stone is a flawless diamond, flanked by a sapphire and an emerald, set in platinum that catches the sunlight streaming through the windows.
“Kit,” I begin, my voice cracking slightly, “you’ve changed our lives in ways we never imagined possible. You’ve made us better men, better alphas, a better pack. Before you, we were just three people sharing a house. Now we’re a family.”
“You’ve brought light into places we didn’t even know were dark,” Nolan adds, his voice thick with emotion I’ve rarely heard from him. “You’ve shown us what it means to protect something precious, not just from duty, but from love.”
“You’ve given us purpose beyond just existing,” Declan finishes, his voice heavy with feeling, tears already gathering in his green eyes. “You’ve made us want to be worthy of you.”
I take a shaky breath, looking up into her eyes that are already filling with tears. “Kit Ellis—our Kit, our heart, our everything—will you marry us? Make us the happiest alphas in the world and bond with us officially? Will you be our wife, our omega, our forever?”
For a terrifying moment that stretches like an eternity, she just stares at us, her hands covering her mouth. The empty restaurant around us seems to hold its breath, waiting. I can hear my own heartbeat in my ears, can smell the shift in all our scents as anxiety spikes.
Then she nods, tears streaming down her face like a river. “Yes,” she whispers, so quietly it echoes in the empty space. Then stronger, her voice breaking with emotion, “Yes, of course, yes! A million times yes!”
The relief that floods through me is so overwhelming I nearly collapse right there on the dusty floor. We surge to our feet as one, gathering her in our arms, kissing her face, her lips, breathing in her joy and excitement as it mixes with our own. She tastes like tears and happiness and everything good in the world.
“There’s more,” Declan says when we finally pull apart, his voice thick with emotion as he gestures to the space around us. “We bought this place. For you.”
Kit’s eyes widen in shock, her gaze darting around the empty restaurant like she’s seeing it for the first time. “What?” she breathes.
“We thought you could open your own café, or bakery, or whatever you want,” I explain, watching her face carefully, memorizing every expression that crosses her features. “Your own space. Your independence. Your dream.”
She starts crying harder then—not tears of sadness or overwhelm, but pure, undiluted joy that makes the air around us shimmer with happiness. Her scent blooms with it, jasmine and vanilla so rich and sweet it makes my head spin.
“This was always my dream,” she whispers, looking around the space like she can’t quite believe it’s real. Her voice is small, wonder-struck. “Even when I was little, maybe five or six, I used to imagine having my own bakery. I’d set up tea parties for my dolls and pretend I was serving them pastries I’d made myself. My grandmother used to encourage it, would let me help her bake cookies and cakes.”
The image of a tiny Kit, covered in flour just like today, playing bakery with her dolls makes my chest ache with love and protectiveness.
“What should we call it?” Nolan asks, his voice gentle as his large hand strokes her hair.
Kit wipes her tears with the back of her hand, a soft smile spreading across her face like sunrise. “Emily Rose’s,” she says without hesitation. “Emily for...” she glances at me with those storm-gray eyes full of love, “for your sister. And Rose after my grandmother. She’s the one who taught me to bake, who believed in me when no one else did. Who told me I could be anything I wanted to be.”
Emily. My sister’s name, spoken with such love and intention. I have to swallow hard to keep my own tears at bay, my throat tight with emotion—not just from Kit’s touching tribute to her grandmother, but from her choosing to honor Emily’s memory.
I have never loved her as much as I have in that moment.
Here, standing in this empty space that will become her dream with my pack and our future wife, surrounded by the scent of her happiness and the promise of forever, I’ve never felt more complete. Our Kit is going to have everything she’s ever dreamed of. Her own bakery, her independence, her choice. And so are we—we’re going to have her, officially and forever, as our wife and omega.
The future has never looked brighter.
Chapter Forty-One
KIT
When the alphas had told me that they had taken care of Roman, I felt nothing but gratitude and relief. I expected to feel some guilt, maybe sadness for a life lost, but it never came. Because I knew, deep down in the parts of myself I’d tried to forget, that he would have killed me eventually. I had always known that he would never stop looking for me, would never let me go. Knowing now that he’s finally gone feels like I can breathe again in a way that I haven’t been able to since the day I first met him.
And when they told me about the others—the monsters they eliminated, people like Roman who used their wealth and connections to escape justice—I felt even more gratitude. My alphas are heroes. I know them, know their hearts, know how kind and gentle they are with me and everyone who deserves their protection. I can’t imagine that taking another human being’s life is easy for them, no matter how much that person deserves it. But they do it anyway, to save others who have gone through the same nightmare I did. For that, I will always be grateful.
It’s been a month since they asked me to bond with them, and I’m getting ready for a company event they’re hosting tonight. In that same event, they’ll be announcing our engagement to their employees and business associates. The thought makes butterflies dance in my stomach—nervous excitement mixed with pure joy.
I check myself out in the full-length mirror of our bedroom, hardly recognizing the woman staring back at me. My makeup was done professionally this afternoon by someone Griffin insisted on hiring—subtle but striking, emphasizing my eyes in a way that makes them look like storm clouds before lightning. The dark red dress hugs my curves perfectly, the silk fabric flowing like liquid fire when I move. My hair is styled in an elegant updo with a few loose strands framing my face. The heels add three inches to my height but somehow feel comfortable, like armor that makes me feel powerful instead of trapped.
I look like a different person. No—I look like myself. For the first time in my life, I feel like myself. Not Katherine Lawson, the broken omega who couldn’t do anything right. Not Kit Ellis, the invisible cleaning lady who kept her head down and tried not to be noticed. Just me. The real me.
My phone rings, interrupting my thoughts and making my stomach clench with familiar anxiety. The caller ID shows a number I’ve been avoiding for weeks: my mother.
I stare at the screen, my finger hovering over the decline button. Since Roman’s abduction, she’s called repeatedly, leaving voicemails that I delete without listening to. The fact that she betrayed me twice—first by sending me back to Roman, then by giving him information about where I lived—hurt initially. But now I’ve accepted it. My mother will never love me the way I needed her to, and I’ve made peace with that.
