"And we need you to be honest with us," Wyatt adds. "About what you need, what scares you, what we're doing wrong. We can't read your mind, sunshine. We need you to tell us."
"That goes both ways," I point out, looking at each of them in turn. "I need you to tell me what you need too. What your boundaries are, what you're comfortable with, what's too much too fast. This has to work for all of us or it doesn't work at all."
Hunter leans forward slightly, his hazel eyes intense even in the dim hallway light. "What do you want, Amelia? Not what you think we want to hear, but what you actually want for yourself."
The question catches me off guard. What do I want? I've spent so long trying to survive, trying to make myself smaller and easier and less demanding, that I've forgotten how to articulate my own desires.
"I want to feel safe," I say slowly, working through it as I speak. My throat feels tight, the words difficult to force out. "Not justphysically safe, but emotionally safe. I want to be able to ask for what I need without being punished for it. I want to be part of something real, something that lasts, something that doesn't disappear the moment things get hard."
"That's what we want too," Silas says softly.
"I want to love the kids without worrying that caring about them is overstepping," I continue, the words coming faster now. "I want to wake up in the morning and not immediately brace for disaster. I want to kiss you without wondering if it's allowed. I want to build something with you, all of you, without constantly second-guessing whether I deserve it."
"You do deserve it," Hunter says with absolute certainty, and the conviction in his voice makes my eyes sting. "All of it and more."
"I want to try," I say, looking at each of them. "I want to court properly, to take this slow and figure it out together. But I need you to be patient with me. I'm going to panic sometimes. I'm going to flinch at unexpected sounds and movements. I'm going to doubt myself and probably ask for reassurance more than a normal person would. I'm going to be difficult and complicated and messy."
"We can handle difficult and complicated and messy," Wyatt says with a small smile. "We're pretty difficult and complicated and messy ourselves."
"The kids come first," I agree, echoing Silas's earlier statement. "Always. If at any point this isn't working for them, if they're upset or confused or hurting, we stop. We figure something else out. Their wellbeing is more important than what any of us want."
"Agreed." Hunter's expression softens slightly, approval written in the set of his shoulders.
The heat under my skin flares again and I shift uncomfortably. Wyatt notices immediately, his eyes sharpening with concern. "When was the last time you took your suppressants?"
"This morning," I say. "Same as always. I've been on them for years, they shouldn't be failing."
"Scent matches can override suppressants sometimes," Silas explains. "Especially if the match is strong enough. Your body is trying to cycle naturally because it's found compatible Alphas."
The clinical explanation should make me feel better but somehow makes it worse. My body is betraying me, deciding on its own what I'm ready for regardless of what my mind thinks.
"I need you to announce yourselves when you come around corners or approach from behind," I say, forcing myself to ask for what I need even though it feels ridiculous. "Dylan and Maddox do it and it helps. Just say something so I know you're there. I know it seems paranoid but it makes a difference."
"Not paranoid," Silas corrects gently. "Practical. And yes, we can absolutely do that."
"I need time in my nest alone sometimes," I continue, working through the list I've been building in my head. "To recharge. Being around people constantly is exhausting even when they're people I love. It's not personal, I just need space occasionally."
"Understood." Wyatt nods. "What else?"
"I don't know yet," I admit. "I'm still figuring out what I need. But I'll tell you when I know. I promise I'll tell you."
"That's all we can ask for," Hunter says. He shifts forward, moving to crouch in front of me so we're at eye level. "I need you to promise me something else, though. Promise that if any of us do something that scares you or reminds you of Vincent, you'll tell us immediately. We can't fix what we don't know about."
"I promise," I whisper, my throat tight with emotion.
"And we promise to do the same," he says. "To tell you what we need, what our boundaries are, what we're struggling with.You're right that this has to work for all of us. We're a team now. All four of us figuring this out together."
"Five," I correct softly. "Six, actually. The kids are part of this too. They get a say in what happens, in whether I stay, in how this family is built."
Something in Hunter's expression cracks open, vulnerability bleeding through the careful control he usually maintains. His hand comes up slowly, giving me time to pull away, and cups my face. His palm is warm against my cheek, rough with calluses, his thumb stroking gently. "Yeah. Six of us."
"We're going to mess this up sometimes," he continues, his voice low and rough. "All of us. We're going to say the wrong thing or push too hard or not push hard enough. But we'll figure it out together, okay? One step at a time."
"One step at a time," I repeat, the phrase feeling like a lifeline.
Wyatt shifts closer, his shoulder pressing against mine in the tight hallway space. He presses a kiss to my temple, his lips warm against my skin. "So it's official? You'll let us court you? Let us show you how much you mean to us?"
"Yes," I say, the word feeling both terrifying and right. "Yes, I want that."
