Found Family
🏎💨 6x44=6¬ Part 2
The hum of the pack room was a familiar symphony to Lewis. It was a space designed for comfort, a sanctuary where the younger members of their sprawling, unconventional pack could unwind and recharge.
Tonight, however, the melody had a discordant note. Isack, the alpha pup, usually a whirlwind of energy, was a shadow of himself, leaning heavily against Lewis’s shoulder like a wilting sapling.
His scent, usually a sharp, invigorating ozone, was tinged with a thin, metallic tang of distress.
“Hey, everyone,” Lewis’s voice was a low rumble, a deliberate counterpoint to the sudden hush that had fallen over Ollie, Kimi, and Gabriel.
Ollie, the most boisterous alpha, had been poised to launch a torrent of questions, but Lewis' watchful gaze and the subtle warning scent of his raised hackles had them all freezing.
“Isack’s just a little tired,” Lewis continued, his hand resting lightly on the young alpha’s back. “He had a long day.” He steered Isack towards the heart of the pack room, a vast, inviting nest of blankets, pillows, and worn plush toys.
The air here was thick with the comforting, mingled scents of their pack, a familiar balm.
And there, buried deep within the softest part of the nest, was Liam Lawson, the omega whose presence was as calming as a gentle rain. He was asleep, his usually sharp features softened by slumber, a low, contented sound escaping him with each breath.
But the subtle ripple of Isack’s unease, faint as it was, reached Liam. His nose twitched, and his eyelids flickered open, revealing sleepy, hazel eyes. His gaze, still hazy and unfocused, landed on Lewis, then widened almost imperceptibly as it registered Isack.
Liam, without a word or a sound, began to stir. He moved with a fluid grace that belied his sleepy state, carefully extricating himself from the warm cocoon of blankets.
He wasn’t as overtly energetic as Ollie or as effervescently vocal as Kimi, but Liam possessed a quieter, more potent form of communication. He was playful with Isack and Yuki, often the one to coax them into laughter. Now, however, there was a stillness about him, a focused intention.
Lewis gently settled Isack onto the edge of the nest, ensuring he was as comfortable as possible. Isack let out a small, mournful whimper, a sound that tugged at Lewis’s heartstrings.
He was still largely adrift in sleep, but the ambient warmth and the familiar pack scents were beginning to seep into him.
Liam, now fully awake, sat up. He didn’t rush forward, didn’t intrude. He simply observed Isack, his own omega scent, a naturally soothing and subtly sweet aroma, beginning to unfurl in the air. It was a wordless offer, a silent invitation to peace.
Isack, sensing the shift in the room, the new, gentle presence, slowly lifted his head. His eyes, heavy-lidded, found Liam’s. There was no immediate spark of recognition, no conscious awareness, just a dazed perception.
But something in Liam’s quiet aura, a deep, inherent omega calm, seemed to resonate with the distressed alpha pup.
With slow, deliberate movements, Liam reached out. He didn’t touch Isack directly, not yet. Instead, he carefully pulled a soft, fleece blanket higher, tucking it gently around Isack’s shoulders. The gesture was feather-light, almost reverent in its tenderness.
Isack leaned into the warmth of the blanket, a soft sigh escaping him. A perceptible loosening occurred in his shoulders, the tight knot of tension finally beginning to unravel.
He closed his eyes again, but this time, it was the deep, unwinding slumber of relief that claimed him. The faint, distressed scent of Isack began to ebb, replaced by a nascent scent of calm.
Lewis watched the silent interaction, a familiar warmth spreading through his chest. He caught Gabriel’s eye, and the beta offered a small, knowing smile. Even Ollie and Kimi, their initial curiosity quelled, had fallen silent, sensing the delicate dance of comfort unfolding before them.
Lewis settled into a nearby armchair, pulling out his comms. A brief message to Nico: ‘Isack’s settled. Liam’s looking after him.’
He knew the older omega would appreciate the subtle update. He hadn’t forgotten Nico’s reaction earlier, the faint blush that had bloomed on his cheeks when Lewis had casually rested a hand on his shoulder.
It had been a fleeting moment, years in the making, since their brief, stilted interview last year.
Lewis wasn’t going to pretend he didn’t miss Nico. After Nico’s triumphant, and ultimately last, championship, his retirement had felt like a quiet abdication. Lewis, stung by the abrupt end to their fierce, unspoken rivalry and friendship, had lashed out publicly, declaring they weren't friends, cutting ties publicly.
Now, the roles had reversed, with Nico maintaining a careful distance.
“I’m glad he’s feeling better,” Nico’s reply blinked onto Lewis’s screen. A simple sentence, but it held a world of unspoken history and lingering warmth. It was enough. For now.
Lewis stayed long enough to ensure Isack was truly asleep, then, with a nod to Liam, he excused himself.
His own debrief awaited, a welcome distraction. He’d started P5, the best qualifying so far in his scarlet machine. During the debrief, Nico’s quiet reply echoed in his mind.
He had expected perhaps a boisterous update from Ollie or a quick debrief with Gabriel, but the room was hushed.
Alpha Ollie, Beta Gabriel, and Omega Kimi were clustered near the gaming console, playing silently, their movements subdued. It was clear Liam’s careful, calming presence had set the tone.
Lewis’s gaze immediately landed on the nest. Isack was awake now, propped against a large velvet cushion, looking considerably less grey than he had earlier. Liam was sitting cross-legged next to him, gently tipping a bottle of water to Isack’s lips, making sure the younger alpha was hydrated.
Liam’s focus was absolute, his scent—a mild, earthy mixture of damp moss and fresh rain—was a quiet shield around Isack.
Lewis watched them for a moment, the natural Omega instinct to nurture and the Alpha’s deep, subconscious need to accept that care playing out in perfect harmony; a dynamic Lewis knew all too well, and one he found himself craving fiercely.
“Hey, Isack,” Lewis said, his voice dropping an octave as he approached. “You feeling better, champ?”
Isack shifted, his eyes immediately locking onto Lewis. The fatigue was still there, etched around his eyes, but the raw distress was gone. “Yeah, I am,” Isack stated, then his face crumpled into a slight knot of confusion. “Where’s Nico?”
The question hit Lewis with the unexpected sting of a stray stone. He knelt beside the nest, ensuring his own Alpha scent—warm cedar and expensive leather—was grounding but not overwhelming.
“Oh, Nico has some work to do,” Lewis answered smoothly, though the slight deflection felt like a lie.
“Oh,” Isack muttered, deflating just a fraction. It was enough to show Lewis exactly how deeply Nico's intervention had resonated.
Lewis gently pushed a stray curl off Isack’s forehead. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Isack’s gaze flickered around the room, settling briefly on Liam, who was pretending to reorganize the blankets but was listening intently. “It was just that the qualifying was bad, I was getting frustrated and… yeah that’s it.” He stopped himself abruptly, leaving a significant, fragrant silence in the air.
Lewis knew instinctively there was more. The intensity of the panic attack, the deep sense of inadequacy that had momentarily overwhelmed the young alpha, wasn't just about a bad lap time.
"Hey. Look at me, Isack," Lewis commanded softly, leaning closer. Isack met his eyes. "Qualifying was frustrating, I get that. But I need you to understand something very clearly." His voice deepened, the professional racing driver melting away into the focused, protective Alpha.
"You are here because you deserve to be here. You have talent, fire, and every time you step in that car, you show up. And those rumors? Ignore them. You are part of our pack network. I believe in you, 100%. Don't ever let anyone, or your own head, tell you otherwise."
Lewis reached out, this time bypassing the blanket, and squeezed Isack’s shoulder, a firm, grounding touch.
Isack exhaled sharply. The knot in his chest, which had begun to reform upon remembering the qualifying session, loosened under Lewis's reassurance. "Thanks, Lewis."
He looked tired, truly tired, the kind of exhaustion that burrowed deep into the bone. Lewis leaned back, exchanging another look with Liam.
Liam simply nodded, a silent acknowledgment that the Omega had done his part and now the Alpha Sire figure was in charge of the mental anchoring.
Lewis pulled out his comms again. His earlier text from Nico was short, cool, and professional. ‘i’m glad he’s feeling better.’
Lewis stared at the message. It was a perfectly polite response, yet it felt like a wall. A wall Lewis had built years ago with his own foolish pride and public declarations of non-friendship, and now Nico had simply reinforced the brickwork.
It doesn’t matter, Lewis thought, standing up. Right now, the pups are the priority.
As the evening deepened, the paddock emptied out. Lewis ensured Ollie and Kimi had suitable snacks before herding them, and a still-drowsy Isack, toward the waiting car. Liam was staying behind with Gabriel for a later simulator session, promising to check in.
The drive to the hotel was quiet, punctuated only by Ollie’s soft singing and the occasional gentle murmur from Kimi. Lewis kept his glance in the rearview mirror fixed on Isack, who was leaning against the window, already dozing off again.
Lewis pushed his protective scent out subtly, trying to wrap the younger alpha in a cocoon of safety.
They were all staying at the designated FIA hotel; Lewis, as a senior driver and quasi-pack leader, made sure they were close.
Once they reached the hotel, Lewis walked them straight up. He insisted on checking Isack into his room first—Room 507, two doors down from Lewis’s own.
“Straight to sleep, Isack,” Lewis murmured, tucking him into the crisp white sheets. “No phone, no videos, just rest. You need to reset.”
“Okay,” Isack replied, already half-gone.
As Lewis stood at the doorway to leave, he pulled out his master key. “Here.” He handed a spare key to Ollie and Kimi for their rooms, and then produced another, specialized emergency key—a universal lock override that Lewis had secured from hotel management. “This is for my room, 509. If anything happens, if you need anything, night or day, you come straight here. All of you. Understand?”
They nodded, understanding the gravity of the instruction. Lewis knew that giving them access was more than just a security measure; it was a scent-based reassurance. His room, his core territory, was open to them.
Lewis sent Kimi and Ollie off, then lingered by Isack’s door, waiting until he heard the deep, even breathing of sleep. He went back to his own room, exhausted but oddly restless.
He sat on the edge of his bed, pulling up his comms again. The brief exchange with Nico was still there. Lewis wanted to type out a longer message—You were so calming, I wish you had stayed, or I miss talking to you about things that aren’t race strategy.
But the words wouldn't come. He remembered the sting of the conversation they’d had last year, their first face-to-face in years, the forced polite distance. Lewis had been so wrapped up in his own pain post-championship, he had pushed Nico away entirely, not realizing how much the silence would cost him later.
Now, Nico was giving him exactly what Lewis had demanded: distance. And Lewis hated it.
He sighed, tossing the phone onto the bedside table. He needed sleep. Tomorrow was race day, and he needed to be sharp.
Isack was running.
He was back on the track, but the car was gone. He was running bare-foot on the tarmac, and everyone was watching. The grandstands were full, but the faces were blurred, indistinct, yet their judgment was sharp, cutting.
“Lewis doesn’t want you.”
“You should have been faster.”
“You are a disappointment to the pack.”
He tried to run faster, but the asphalt was pulling at his feet, sticking him in place. His scent, which should have been fiercely alpha, felt thin, diluted, useless. He looked desperately for Lewis, for that anchoring scent of cedar and protection, but Lewis was nowhere.
Then, a new voice, cold and clear, cut through the noise. “You’re too loud, too desperate. No one will choose you.”
Isack whimpered, a lost, mournful sound, the kind of sound an alpha pup makes when separated from his sire’s presence. The fear was a cold wave washing over him, turning his stomach. He was alone, and everyone hated him.
His breathing hitched, accelerating into sharp, painful gasps—the familiar onset of a true panic.
He jolted violently awake, tangled in the sheets, his heart hammering against his ribs. The hotel room was dark, but the overwhelming scent of fear and distress filled the small space—it was his own, acrid and sharp, a scent that tasted of burning wires and salty tears.
He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think.
His instincts, untamed by reason, took over completely. He needed grounding. He needed the scent of his closest authority figure, his rock, his protection. He needed the Alpha that had just promised him safety.
Isack scrambled out of bed, grabbing the emergency key Lewis had given him moments before. He didn't even put shoes on, driven by a primal need for sanctuary.
He stumbled across the carpet, threw open his door, and raced two doors down to 509.
Lewis was plunged instantly from a deep, deserved sleep into hyper-alertness. It wasn't the sound of the key hitting the lock that woke him, but the sudden, violent spike of distress scent—raw, desperate, and intensely pup-like—that flooded his immediate space. It was Isack.
Lewis was out of bed before Isack even slammed the door shut, hitting the light switch and wrapping the younger alpha into the solid containment of his arms entirely on instinct.
“Isack! Hey, hey, what is it? What happened?” Lewis’s voice was deep, rough with sleep, but immediately pitched low and reassuring.
Isack was shaking violently, his breath catching in ragged, terrified bursts. He was gripping Lewis’s shirt like a lifeline, burrowing his face into the Alpha’s chest. “T-they said… they said you didn’t w-want me. I was running, I was alone, Lewis, I was so alone—”
Lewis held him tighter, pulling him away from the door and toward the center of the room. He walked them backward until they hit the soft mattress of the king bed, sinking down onto it.
Lewis used his free hand to run a wide, calming stroke down Isack’s spine, a deep, rhythmic pressure designed to reassure the nervous system.
“I’m here. I’m right here,” Lewis rumbled into his hair, letting his own Alpha pheromones bleed heavily into the air—a scent of absolute safety, You are protected. I hold this space.
Isack was still trembling, but the contact was working. The immediate, suffocating fear was receding, replaced by the profound comfort of Lewis's scent.
Lewis realized that Ollie and Kimi, situated between his room and Isack's, had probably been momentarily shielded by the distance, but the level of panic was so high it would soon wake the entire floor.
“It was just a nightmare, pup,” Lewis whispered, easing Isack back until he could look at his face. Isack’s eyes were wide, wet with tears, and still hazy with residual fear. “No one said anything. You’re safe. We’re in the hotel, and I am right here.”
He sat there for what felt like ten minutes, simply holding the pup, projecting calm and strength. As Lewis continued the slow, deep strokes down Isack’s back, he started to breathe a little easier, matching the Alpha’s rhythm.
Lewis felt utterly drained. Dealing with the initial panic attack was one thing; dealing with the deep, insidious fear of rejection that manifested in his sleep was exhausting and heartbreaking.
This is too much for simple Alpha protection, Lewis realized. He needs the grounding force of an Omega, someone who can soothe the wound, not just guard it.
Lewis glanced at his comms lying on the bedside table. He hesitated, his thumb hovering over Nico’s contact information. He’d resolved to keep the required distance, but this wasn't about public perception or pride.
This was about a vulnerable pup in Lewis’s care. Nico had handled the initial crisis; he needed to understand the continuation of it.
Lewis gently eased Isack off his lap and onto the pillows. Isack instinctively curled into the pillow, which smelled strongly of Lewis, already half-asleep again.
Lewis slipped off the bed and walked into the bathroom, closing the door softly. He needed to be out of earshot. He stared at his reflection—hair mussed, eyes tired, the Alpha worry lines deeply etched around his mouth.
He opened his comms and typed, bypassing the cool formality.
To: Nico Rosberg
Lewis: Sorry for the late hour. It's happening again. Nightmare, bad one. He bolted for my room. It’s about not being wanted.
He waited, heart pounding, aware that this text broke the unspoken rules of their fragile, professional ceasefire. He half expected silence, or a terse reply about calling the team doctor.
The reply came almost instantly.
Nico: Is he with you now? Is he settled?
Lewis felt a wave of unexpected relief. It wasn't cold. It was immediate, Omega-level concern, filtering through the digital distance.
Lewis: Yes. He’s in my bed, curled up. I’ve saturated the room with my scent. But he’s still jumpy.
Nico: That deep rejection complex won't go with just Alpha scent. Give him a grounding focus. Does he have a comfort item?
Lewis frowned. Comfort item? He thought of Liam and the blanket.
Lewis: Not here. Liam was helping, he was great, but Liam’s back at the sim.
A beat of silence. Lewis’s gaze was fixed on Isack, who had curled into himself on the sterile white bed, his breathing shallow. He could feel the raw distress radiating from his pup, a scent of ozone and something akin to fear.
He replayed the conversation he'd had with Isack earlier, after the pup had finally drifted into a fitful sleep. Isack had mumbled Nico’s name, a soft, almost hopeful sound in his sleep-addled state.
Maybe… maybe Nico could help. Nico understood these things, the nuances of omega comfort, the deep-seated needs that alpha scent alone couldn't always address.
"Could you come here to calm him down?" Lewis typed, his fingers flying across the holographic interface, his hope a fragile thing.
There was no immediate reply, just the familiar ellipsis appearing on his screen. Lewis held his breath. He knew Nico was busy – always busy with his own burgeoning empire and family – but he also knew Nico’s inherent kindness, his deep-seated empathy for those struggling.
Then, the three dots shifted, and words appeared. "Sure. Keep him calm in the meanwhile."
A wave of relief washed over Lewis, so potent it almost made him sway. He relayed the message to Isack, whose eyes, when they fluttered open, held a flicker of anticipation.
Within three minutes, a soft, insistent knock sounded on the door. Lewis opened it to find Nico standing there, a familiar figure even in his casual attire.
He wore a soft, charcoal grey jumper that hugged his broad shoulders, paired with comfortable sweatpants. A well-worn backpack was slung over one shoulder.
Their eyes met. Forty years of history, of fierce competition and reluctant respect, of unspoken understanding and burgeoning tenderness, passed between them in that shared glance.
It was a connection forged in the crucible of speed and ambition, now finding new ground in the quiet vulnerability of their younger counterparts. Before Lewis could articulate his thanks, they both heard it – a soft, almost desperate whisper from the bed.
"Nico."
Nico’s lips curved into a gentle smile, a silent acknowledgment of the plea. He nodded, his gaze still locked on Lewis for a fraction of a second longer before he moved past him, his scent a calming blend of cedarwood and something subtly floral, a scent that had always been a source of quiet strength for Lewis. Lewis followed, his own alpha presence a protective shadow behind Nico.
Isack had sat up, his eyes wide and fixed on Nico. Nico, with an innate grace that Lewis had always found captivating, sat down on the edge of the bed beside his pup. He didn't crowd Isack, but offered a quiet, steady presence.
He spoke softly, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the room, a comforting balm to Isack’s frayed nerves. He asked Isack about the pain, about how he was feeling, not as a medic, but as someone who genuinely cared.
Then, Nico reached into his backpack. He pulled out a familiar, slightly faded t-shirt. It was Liam's, Lewis realized, a shirt he’d seen Liam wear around the paddock, a shirt that carried the faint, comforting scent of his pup. Nico gently handed it to Isack.
Isack took the shirt, his small hands fumbling with the fabric. He brought it to his nose, inhaling deeply. A subtle shift occurred in his posture.
The tension in his shoulders eased, his breathing deepened, and the raw edge of fear began to recede, replaced by the familiar, grounding scent of his own alpha self, amplified by the comfort of a cherished belonging. He let out a soft sigh and leaned back against the pillows, his eyes already drooping.
"Can… can you stay here?" Isack’s voice was a hushed, hesitant whisper, laced with the vulnerability of a young omega seeking reassurance.
Nico’s smile widened, a genuine warmth radiating from him. "Of course, dear darling," he said, his German endearment a gentle caress. He reached out and gently stroked Isack’s soft, dark hair, his touch infinitely tender.
Isack, held by Nico’s calming presence and the comforting scent of his own shirt, drifted back into a peaceful sleep. His head rested against the pillow, his face finally relaxed. Nico continued to stroke his hair for a few more moments, his gaze soft and full of compassion. Lewis watched the interaction, a lump forming in his throat.
He was frozen in the middle of the room, his alpha instincts screaming to protect, to comfort, but his usual methods felt inadequate against this particular struggle.
Nico slowly withdrew his hand from Isack’s hair and turned his gaze to Lewis. A hint of amusement touched his lips. "You know this is your room," he chuckled softly, his voice a low murmur to avoid waking Isack. "You can move."
Lewis blinked, his mind still caught in the tableau of Nico comforting Isack. He realized he was standing rigid, a sentinel at the doorway, his own alpha scent likely a little too dominant in the confined space.
"I… I know," Lewis finally managed, his voice a little rough. He took a hesitant step towards the bed, his gaze fixed on his sleeping pup. "He was so scared. I didn’t know what to do." The admission, raw and honest, hung in the air between them.
Nico looked up, his expression softening from the teasing chuckle to something profoundly empathetic.
The harsh hotel lighting, usually so unforgiving, seemed to fall gently on the planes of his face, accentuating the faint lines of worry that mirrored Lewis’s own.
“You did exactly what you should have done, Lewis,” Nico murmured, his voice pitched barely above a whisper—a soothing, rumbling sound that was entirely Omega, entirely Nico. “You contained the initial panic. You projected safety. If you hadn’t done that, he would have bolted straight out of the hotel and halfway to the track.”
Lewis leaned forward, running a hand through his closely shorn hair. He inhaled deeply, and the resulting scent profile was complex: his own heavy Alpha musk, thick with vigilance and adrenaline, was overlaid heavily by the raw, fading acid fear of Isack’s distress.
But underneath it all, weaving through the tension, was the clean, calming scent of ocean salt and rain—Nico’s grounding Omega anchor.
Nico’s scent was particularly potent here, mixed with the warmth of the pillows and the deep, rich cedar notes of Lewis’s own proprietary bedding scent. It was an accidental, temporary nest, and the sheer intimacy of it made Lewis’s spine stiffen with a primal recognition he had spent years trying to suppress.
“It wasn’t enough,” Lewis admitted, the words dragging. “The moment the physical fear stopped, the real fear took over. The rejection complex. I couldn’t touch that. I felt like a brute, just pressing safety until he was numb.”
Nico nodded, his fingers still absentmindedly tracing a pattern on Isack’s scalp. “Alpha scent is a wall, Lewis. It keeps the danger out. But that vulnerability—the fear of abandonment—that’s internal. It’s a wound, not a threat. You need a different kind of pressure to heal a wound. You need an Omega.”
He gently shifted the article of clothing clutched in Isack’s hands. It was a soft, well-worn grey shirt, faintly smelling of track rubber and a sweet, underlying scent Lewis recognized as Liam’s.
“This is what worked,” Nico explained. “It’s his shirt, but it’s been infused with Liam’s grounding scent, and I’ve topped the corners with a bit of my own Nesting pheromones. It’s familiarity plus absolute safety. He’s taking comfort from his mate’s anchor, backed by an established Omega’s guarantee. It tells his system: you are claimed, you are settled, and the space you occupy is protected by someone who prioritizes your soft edges.”
Lewis watched the pup, who was now utterly slack, deep in the heavy, restorative sleep of exhaustion and safety. Lewis knew, intellectually, that Nico was right. He had always known that for the deep, emotional scaffolding required by pups, especially those with trauma, an Alpha’s strength was only half the equation.
“Thank you for coming,” Lewis said, finding that simple gratitude felt enormous. “I know… I know we agreed to maintain space.”
Nico finally turned his full attention to Lewis, folding his arms across his chest. He didn’t look angry or cold, just weary and slightly resigned.
“We agreed to maintain space in the interest of professional decorum and shared history, yes,” Nico stated, his tone flat. “But decorum doesn’t save a pup from a panic attack. When an Alpha this deep into Paternal Alpha mode calls an Omega for help, the Omega comes. Those are rules that supersede our personal drama, Lewis. Don’t thank me. This is duty.”
Lewis bristled slightly at the detached language, even while knowing he deserved it. “It was necessary. I wouldn’t have jeopardized your sleep otherwise.”
“I know,” Nico countered, softer this time. “You broke the seal because Isack needed it. That’s what matters.” He paused, then tilted his head, his eyes focusing on Lewis’s face. “You look terrible, by the way. You reek of adrenaline and exhaustion. You were throwing Alpha scent heavy enough to knock out a horse.”
Lewis gave a weak smile. “I was panic-scenting. Trying to make the whole room a fortress.”
“You succeeded in making it a fortress,” Nico agreed, then patted the blanket over Isack. “Now, where are you sleeping? Because if you try to sleep on the sofa, I will use my Omega Voice and make you go back to bed.”
Lewis hadn’t considered that. Nico was sitting on his bed, cradling his pup, and they were in a hotel room designed for one Alpha. The realization of the close proximity, the inescapable saturation of their combined scents, hit him again.
“I’ll take the sofa,” Lewis insisted, pushing himself up.
Before Lewis could rise, Nico reached out and clamped a warm, firm hand around Lewis’s wrist. It was a gesture of intimate familiarity, utterly at odds with their forced professionalism.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Nico said. “You’re the Alpha of this pairing. Your system needs deep rest to reset the control scent. If you sleep curled up and uncomfortable, you’ll just wake up tense and project that tension onto Isack. I can’t have that.”
Lewis stared at the hand on his arm, mesmerized by the feeling of contact—solid, warm, and decidedly possessive in its pressure.
“There’s plenty of room,” Nico continued, releasing his wrist but keeping his gaze locked on Lewis. “I’m taking up the space Isack needs for reassurance. You take the outer edge. We can both keep vigil without sacrificing sleep.”
The offer was scandalous, impossible, and utterly logical. Sharing a bed, especially in a safe, contained space meant to protect a vulnerable third party, was essentially a forced, temporary nest. It was the purest form of Alpha/Omega co-parenting—a scenario they had only ever imagined in the distant, private parts of their separation five years ago.
“Nico, I don’t think—”
“Lewis, I’m right here,” Nico cut in, his voice dropping into that deep, compelling register that had always bypassed Lewis’s logic and gone straight to his Alpha core. “I am nestled with the pup, projecting calm. You are the Alpha, projecting security. We are scenting this space together, and the pup will feel that double layer of protection, even in his sleep. Stop overthinking the logistics of our past and focus on the necessity of the now.”
Lewis felt his defenses crumble. He was too tired, Isack was too vulnerable, and Nico’s scent was too intoxicatingly close. The argument was lost the moment Nico had uttered the word ‘nestled.’
Lewis nodded once, defeated but intensely relieved. “Fine.”
He walked around the foot of the bed and pulled back the heavy duvet on the side opposite Nico. He stripped off his sleep shorts and slid under the covers in only boxer briefs, the sheets suddenly cool against his skin.
The air shifted immediately. Now that Lewis was truly settled in his own resting spot, his latent Alpha scent, which had been frantic earlier, began to mellow into a slow, heavy pulse of deep security. It was the scent of a male prepared to guard the den, and it wrapped around Nico and Isack like a thick, warm blanket.
Nico shifted slightly, pulling his knees up and resting his chin on them, watching Lewis. He didn’t comment on the shift, but Lewis saw the subtle widening of his pupils—a tell-tale sign that the Omega in him was registering the presence of the strong, nearby Alpha.
“This will help him,” Nico whispered, confirming the powerful effect of their combined presence.
Lewis lay on his back, hands tucked behind his head, staring at the ceiling. He could feel the small waves of heat emanating from the center of the bed, where their bodies were gathered.
“He’s getting better, Lewis,” Nico said after a long moment of silence, breaking the heavy stillness. “The relationship with Liam is stabilizing him. Liam is a good, steady Omega. Very practical. He’s the perfect anchor for Isack’s volatility.”
“Liam is great,” Lewis agreed immediately. “He was with him during the initial crisis in Barcelona. He knew exactly what to do. But Liam doesn’t… Liam doesn’t have the same history of dealing with this particular level of emotional abandonment that you do.”
Lewis felt a pang of guilt as he realized what he had just admitted. He was referencing the fact that Nico hadn’t just arrived at adulthood without struggles; Nico had carried his own heavy burdens of expectation, alienation, and perceived rejection—issues they had navigated together, poorly, during the height of the war. Nico understood rejection in a way Liam, for all his kindness, might never grasp.
“It’s why the team asked me to step in as a mentor now and then,” Nico said, confirming Lewis’s thoughts. “It’s easier for him to trust an Omega who has walked through the fire and retained his scent.”
“You retain your scent beautifully, Nico,” Lewis said, the compliment slipping out before he could catch it. He rolled onto his side, facing the center of the bed.
Nico’s breath hitched, a faint, tiny sound that Lewis barely caught over the sound of their shared breathing. The air thickened further.
“I only meant that you’re steady,” Lewis clarified quickly, trying to backtrack without sounding like a panicked Alpha. “You’re solid. You don’t spook.”
Nico smiled, a ghost of a genuine smile, and the distance between them seemed to shrink to nothing. “I learned from the best Alpha on the grid how to weather a storm, didn’t I?”
The reference to their shared, tumultuous past was like a pebble dropped into still water. It created ripples of memory: the fights, the victories, the raw, undeniable attraction that had always pulsed beneath the surface of their rivalry, erupting into a swift, hot bond before imploding under pressure.
“I should have protected you better five years ago,” Lewis found himself saying, the exhaustion lowering his filters and letting the deep, five-year-old regret surface. “I should have made a better nest for us. You deserved more security than I gave you, Nico.”
Nico’s expression changed. The professional Omega facade cracked, showing the raw vulnerability that Lewis remembered so well—the sharp, intelligent eyes that had always seen Lewis clearly, even when Lewis couldn’t see himself.
“We destroyed our own nest, Lewis,” Nico corrected quietly. “We used it as a weapon against each other. It wasn’t just your fault.” He paused, looking down at Isack’s peacefully sleeping face. “But that’s why we have to maintain the space now. We can’t survive a second implosion. Not with pups relying on us to coordinate their care.”
Lewis reached out a hand, his fingers stopping just inches from where Nico was resting his hip against the mattress. He felt the intense magnetic pull to complete the tactile connection, to offer the deep, heavy comfort his Alpha side was screaming to provide.
“It’s hard, maintaining this space,” Lewis confessed, his voice rough. “Especially when you show up like this. In your sweatpants and jumper, radiating that perfect calm. It’s exactly that Omega guarantee I never stopped needing, even when I told myself I did.”
Nico looked at the hand, then back at Lewis. He didn’t shy away. He slowly lifted his own hand from Isack’s shoulder, shifting his weight. He didn’t take Lewis’s hand, but he closed the remaining gap, resting his palm flat on the mattress, mere millimeters from Lewis’s outstretched fingertips.
“I know,” Nico admitted, the two words heavy with implication. He wasn’t referring to Lewis’s need; he was referring to the effort he had to put in to hold his Omega back from responding to the gravitational pull of Lewis’s settled Alpha scent.
“Isack is going to need this for a while,” Lewis stated, the subject shift deliberate, anchoring them back to the pup. “He needs that physical, grounding focus from an Omega who understands his specific fear.”
“I’ll coordinate with Liam,” Nico promised. “But yes. For now, he needs the stability. This is the new normal. We need to be prepared for the bolt whenever he feels rejected, even by his own mate.”
Lewis nodded. He closed the small gap, his fingertips brushing the sensitive skin of Nico’s wrist. It was a fleeting, feather-light contact, yet it shot a current of awareness through both of them.
“So you’ll stay?” Lewis asked, trying to sound casual, but failing. It was a plea disguised as a question about logistics.
Nico leaned his head back against the headboard, closing his eyes for a moment. He took a deep, steadying breath, allowing himself to be fully enveloped by Lewis’s scent—the scent that was home, safety, and terrible volatility all at once.
“I already told the pup I would stay, Lewis,” Nico reminded him, reopening his eyes. They were dark, swimming with a reluctant tenderness. “I won’t break a promise to someone relying on my word. Not even if it means breaking our ceasefire for a few hours.”
Nico gently reached over and pulled the duvet up higher around Lewis’s shoulder, a casual, deeply domestic gesture. “Now, get some sleep, Alpha. We’ll figure out the logistics of our continued co-parenting in the morning.”
Lewis felt a profound sense of peace settle over him—a peace he hadn’t felt in years. He was sharing his bed, sharing his air, and sharing the weight of care with the only person who truly understood the burden of his Alpha existence.
He closed his eyes and inhaled the combined scent of safety and familiarity filling his nest. Lewis was asleep within minutes, the heavy, grounding presence of the Omega beside him finally allowing the Alpha in him to rest its guard.
Nico, meanwhile, watched the Alpha and the pup sleep, settling into the long night of vigil, holding their fragile peace together. . . .
