Chapter 246: 246. Storm

Lia

Life went on, but the problem with danger knocking at your back door was that it’s hard to keep moving on. There’s always that little voice in the back of your head, waiting for everything to go to shit.

This was what we were all waiting for.

Except Simone. Despite everything that happened, she seemed happy and in good spirits. I don’t know how she did it, honestly. It must’ve been her way of coping.

I forced a smile as Simone sat beside me, her usual bubbly energy radiating like always. I wish I could borrow just a little of it.

“You’ve been quiet,” she said, nudging my arm. “That usually means something’s brewing in that dramatic brain of yours.”

“Nothing’s brewing,” I lied smoothly. “Just tired. Work has been hell lately.”

Simone snorted. “You always say that. What’s going on?”

I picked at a thread on my sleeve. “Seriously. I’m fine. Just… you know, tired of everything being so busy all the time.”

She saw right through me.

Why did I think she wouldn’t?

She gave me a sharp look. “Busy? Lia, you skipped lunch yesterday, barely texted me back, and looked like you saw a ghost in second period. Are we calling that ‘busy’ now?”

“I’m not haunted, Simone,” I said, laughing lightly. Too lightly. “I promise.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Okay, now I know something’s off. Did something happen with Colby? Or your brother?”

“No. Nothing happened. Everyone’s been... nice.”

“Nice?” she echoed, unconvinced. “Lia, they’re never just ‘nice.’ Did someone say something?”

I hesitated too long.

Simone pounced. “Lia. Spit it out.”

“It’s not anything I can explain,” I said finally. “It’s just this... feeling. Like something’s coming. Like a storm, but no one else can see the clouds.”

It was this constant feeling that was always hanging over me. I hated it, wishing it would go away, but I was the type of person who had visions. When you had visions of things that hadn’t happened yet, this type of thing did tend to happen. What was I going to do about it other than pay attention to my visions and try to make the best out of them?

Simone frowned. “And you’re just pretending everything’s fine?”

“What else am I supposed to do?” I asked quietly. “Run around screaming? That’d go over well.”

“You could, you know... talk to me. Like a normal person.”

“I am talking to you,” I said, my voice wobbling just enough that she noticed.

Her hand covered mine. “You don’t have to hold the sky up alone, you know.”

Sometimes it felt like I had too and didn’t have a choice. I was the omega with four different mates, and while they worried over me, I didn’t want to add to their stress. If I could somehow deal with the twins on my own to an extent, I would because I didn’t want to add to their stress.

I smiled again, weaker this time. “Maybe not. But it still feels like it’s about to fall.”

What if it did fall? I had to keep telling myself that it wasn’t going to all go to shit. It was going to be hard because I didn’t want my kids to end up suffering with fate. Fate was doing nothing but fucking us all over.

She didn’t reply right away, and in the silence, a breeze rustled the nearby trees. I swore the world was holding its breath.

Finally, Simone said softly, “You’ve had that look all week, like your skin doesn’t fit right. Like you’re listening for something no one else can hear.”

I opened my mouth, then closed it. “Maybe I am.”

Why did we have to have this serious conversation at a time like this? I hated it.

She leaned in. “Lia… are you scared?”

My throat tightened. “Not scared. Just... bracing.”

“For what?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know yet. But whatever it is? It’s close.”

Simone's eyes searched mine. “Promise me something.”

“What?”

“That if the storm comes… You don’t face it alone.”

I exhaled slowly. “Okay.”

“You mean it?”

“I mean it.”

Even if it were the biggest lie I’d told all day.

Simone didn’t let go of my hand. Her grip was firm, grounding. “You’ve been off before, sure. But this? This feels different. Bigger.”

“It is,” I admitted, barely above a whisper. “I just don’t know how to explain it without sounding crazy.”

I glanced at Simone, able to see how gentle her gaze was. She smiled at me and threw an arm around my shoulder. It was hard to feel anything but comfort when she was acting like this. Simone was such a good friend! How would I have been able to deal with any of this?

“Try me.” Her voice was gentle now, the teasing stripped away. “You know I don’t scare easily.”

I looked away. “It’s like… something’s watching. Not someone. Something. Like I’ve got eyes on me, even when I’m alone. Like I’m being... measured.”

She blinked, her fingers tightening slightly. “Okay. That’s officially creepy. But I believe you.”

“You do?” I asked, surprised.

“Of course I do,” she said. “You think I’d let you spiral into a whole existential horror movie monologue and then just not believe you?”

A short, involuntary laugh escaped me. “Thanks, I guess.”

Simone leaned back slightly, studying me. “Is this about… your dreams again? The ones you stopped telling me about?”

I froze.

She caught it. “Lia…”

“They’re worse,” I admitted. “More vivid. And they don’t feel like dreams anymore. They feel like warnings.”

Simone swallowed. “Warnings about what?”

I shrugged helplessly. “Fire. Shadows. Someone is screaming my name. I always wake up before I see their face.”

A long pause stretched between us.

Then Simone said, “Okay. We’re not brushing this off. Whatever this is, we’ll figure it out.”

I gave a weak laugh. “What are you going to do, fight nightmares with me?”

“If I have to,” she said fiercely. “I’ll bring snacks and a flashlight. Maybe holy water.”

I smiled for real this time. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re scared. Which is allowed. Just... don’t disappear into yourself, okay? Let me in.”

“And you’re scared. Which is allowed. Just... don’t disappear into yourself, okay? Let me in.”

I looked at her, really looked at her—the worry in her eyes, the stubborn set of her jaw.

“I’m trying,” I said.

“That’s all I ask.”

A beat passed. Then she added, “But also, if this turns into some kind of apocalypse scenario, you better believe I’m demanding a cool weapon and dramatic slow-motion scenes.”

Despite everything, I laughed. “Deal.”

She brightened. “I want dual swords. No, wait—nun chucks. No, laser nun chucks. Wait, are laser nun chucks a thing?”

“Not unless you invent them.”

Her eyes lit up with mock-serious purpose. “Give me three paperclips, a flashlight, and ten minutes. I’ll figure it out.”

“Is this like the time you tried to build a flamethrower out of a hair dryer?”

“That was experimental innovation, thank you. Also, the scorch marks are mostly gone.”

I shook my head, still smiling. “You’re impossible.”

“I prefer the term ‘highly creative under pressure.’”

But even as I said it, the chill at the back of my neck didn’t fade. The feeling lingered.

Something was coming.

And deep down, we both knew it.

I didn’t answer right away. Just leaned back, watching clouds crawl across the sky like they were trying to decide whether to storm.

“Yeah,” I said eventually. “Together.”

Simone nodded, satisfied. For a while, we just sat there, the silence not heavy, for once, but something more like peace. Or maybe the pause before the chaos. Hard to tell these days.

The wind picked up, cool and sharp, brushing the back of my neck. That same chill again, crawling under my skin like a warning.

Simone shivered. “Okay, either a ghost just walked over my grave or the weather’s trying to cosplay as ominous foreshadowing.”

“Probably both,” I muttered.

She elbowed me. “Great. Love that for us.”

My anxiety was still there, but it had been lowered a great deal. I smiled at Simone, hoping that things could stay this way at ease for as long as possible.

She looked at me sideways. “You know, for someone with four mates, your life is suspiciously lacking in candlelit dinners and romantic horseback rides.”

I laughed under my breath. “Romantic horseback rides? What kind of novels are you reading?”

“The kind where the world doesn’t feel like it’s about to end,” she said, only half joking. “Honestly, Lia. When’s the last time you just... did something for yourself?”

I blinked. “I don’t know. I don’t really think about that kind of stuff right now.”

“Well, you should,” she said firmly. “Even if the world is ending. Especially if it is. You deserve to live, not just brace.”

I didn’t respond right away. The breeze ruffled my hair, and I tucked a strand behind my ear.

“I’ll try,” I said quietly.

She nodded. “Try harder.”

I looked over at her. “You’re bossy.”

“And you’re stubborn,” she shot back. “So we balance out.”

“Is that what this is? Balance?”

Simone gave a soft snort. “Something like that. Or maybe just proof the universe has a weird sense of humor.”

The wind whistled again, bending tree branches. A crow called out in the distance—loud, sharp.

We both fell quiet for a moment.

Then Simone said, “When the storm hits, metaphorical or otherwise, promise me one more thing.”

I gave her a wary glance. “There’s more?”

“Promise me you won’t run toward it alone just because you think you have to.”

I met her gaze. “I’ll try not to.”

“Not good enough.”

I sighed. “Okay. I promise.”

She held out her pinky.

“Seriously?”

“Dead serious. Pinky swear or it doesn’t count.”

I linked mine with hers.

“That’s binding,” she said. “Cosmic consequences if you break it.”

“Got it. The fate of the world now hinges on our pinkies.”

Simone grinned. “Finally, some accountability.”