In that moment, he’s more than just a victim. More than an omega.
He’s undeniable.
“Alright, Mr. Rhodes. While the law is not written this way, we can interpret it in this modern context. Mr. Rena, do you agree with our sentence of combat to the death?” Sanderson continues.
Nix rubs the tail of his borrowed tie with one hand and slips the other into Jay’s waiting one. Leo digs deep into where his bond is, where he feels it tug sometimes but never tugs back on purpose. This time, he pushes his love andprideout along the bond, and when he looks to his right and left, he sees each of his mates has a similar look of concentration, and for a second, Leo thinks Nixglows.
Nix’s voice does not waver as he says, “I do.”
Judge Patel smiles. “Since Mr. Rhodes has allowed you to decide, you must confirm with the court whether your leader will mete out justice or if you will be assigning a proxy.”
“A proxy, Your Honors.”
Judge Jones nods. “Very well. Who will fulfill this honor?”
“I will.”
Chapter Twenty-Three: Nix
A firm chest is pressed against his back, and one under his cheek as Nix lets the world creep into his consciousness. The scents are opposite—one is the fresh, redolent breath of a verdant summer, and the other is the delicious spice of warm drinks before a fire.
Cool and hot, fresh and spicy. No matter that they are opposites—together, they mean love.
It’s Grayson and Rowan, of course. Nix tries to remember when the others might have left the nest this morning but finds no memory of it.
A stress headache is brewing behind his eyes, even though they’re not quite open, but he’s not surprised, given yesterday’s events. But there’s something else too—an ache that doesn’t quite belong to exhaustion.
After the trial, the pack and Antonio stayed with Grayson so the judges could address what had happened with Hayes. Judge Patel had called it assault, but she hadn’t seemed to have any heart in handing down more than the five-thousand-dollar fine and a warning to keep a tighter leash on his wolf.
It made his pack chuckle, as no one had stricter control over his wolf than Grayson Pearce.
Well, at least until yesterday.
The judges were all very understanding and apologized to Nix for not having better control over their prisoner and for allowing Hayes’s tirade to continue for as long as it had.
But Nix had been secretly relieved; now, he wouldn’t have to face Hayes in a quiet room, face-to-face. There was no telling what he would have said—or worse, what he would have tried todowith Nix as a captive audience.
Yet, it had been hard to hear those terrible things, especially in front of his mates’ families—embarrassing in the worst way.
Embarrassing because, while most of them weren’t true—he can at least admit that to himself—hehadbeen Hayes’s. Even if he hadn’t consented for most of the time.
Grayson sighs softly in his sleep, shifting closer as he snuffles at Nix’s hair. His hand moves instinctively, rubbing along the arm Rowan has draped over both of them, as though sensing Nix’s unease even in his dreams.
Nix whispers a gentle shush, his voice barely audible, trying to soothe without waking him. The small, unconscious gesture eases the tension curling in Nix’s chest.
No one would argue that meeting his mates’ families in the middle of a courtroom, right after the worst moments of his life had been laid bare, was ideal. But they’d all been so kind that the weight of it settled an anxiety he hadn’t known he’d been feeling.
Grayson’s parents, especially, had put him at ease right away.
His beta father had been easygoing and quick to laugh, armed with a steady supply of dad jokes that reminded Nix of how Jamie might be in his late fifties. Despite coming from old money out East, there was nothing fake about him—just an approachable, friendly demeanor that made him instantly likable.
His mother, on the other hand, was poised and graceful, her quiet presence carrying an understated elegance. Watching them together, it was easy to see where Grayson got his contrasting traits—silly and carefree one moment, calm and composed the next. They balanced each other perfectly.
They were staying with the Costas family, who had graciously opened their home to everyone from out of town, including Rowan’s mother, Beth.
The moment they exited the courtroom, where the families and omegas had gathered, Beth had pulled Nix aside. Her touch was firm but gentle, pulling him away from Rowan, who had just picked him up to rub his scent-blocker-patch-free throat on any part of Nix he could reach.
He’d smelled only of her son then—it was a relief to smell like the enigmaafter a whole day of not smelling any of his mates. But Beth had been unimpressed by what must be a social faux pas.
