Page 128 of Unscripted Bonds

Two hours later, we spill out into the cool night air with the rest of the audience.

The drive home is quiet. Adrian drives while I sit in the passenger seat with my heels kicked off and my feet tucked beneath me. I watch the city slide past in streaks of light and shadow. Bash is asleep in the back seat with his head tipped against the window. Elias sits beside him, silent as ever, his attention fixed somewhere beyond the glass.

No one speaks. My bond pulses softly with the warmth of my alphas nearby, and I find myself thinking about Monday.

It will be a new production, a new set, and a new set of challenges. Eight weeks ago, the thought of walking onto another set as an openly bonded omega would have sent me into a spiral so deep I might never have found my way back out of it.

Now, when I think about Monday, all I feel is anticipation.

I'll solve problems, run the floor, and come home to my alphas and the messy, imperfect life we're building together. I wouldn't have it any other way.

Adrian's hand finds my knee. His thumb brushes across it once, and the bond between us responds with a warmth that spreads through my chest and settles there.

I was so afraid.

I was afraid of becoming just an omega. Afraid of needing people. Afraid of losing control of a future I had worked too hard to build. Most of all, I was afraid that change itself would be catastrophic, that if I stopped being the person I had always been, there would be nothing left worth keeping.

None of those fears came true.

Yes, everything changed.

The woman who walked onto that set eight months ago as a beta coordinator would not recognize the woman sitting in this passenger seat. She would see the bond marks, the dress, and the way three alphas orbit her with a devotion that borders on ridiculous, and she would assume something had been taken from her: her independence, her identity, or the carefully constructed self that never asked anyone for anything.

She would be wrong.

The car turns onto our street. Our house waits at the end of the block, windows glowing warm against the dark.

Bash stirs in the back seat. “Are we home?” he mumbles, his voice thick with sleep.

“Almost,” Adrian says.

Elias shifts and straightens slightly.

I watch them and understand that I never stopped being myself. I just found people who loved every version of me instead.

The car pulls into the driveway and the engine cuts off. For a moment, no one moves.

Then Bash yawns, Adrian reaches for the door handle, and Elias is gathering himself to climb out.

I smile and climb out after them.