When I get back to the car, they know immediately that something's wrong. My scent's probably gone all kinds of wrong—lilac sharp with anxiety, rain turning bitter with stress.
"What happened?" Dorian demands before I've even closed the door.
"I got a text." My voice comes out steady. Good. "From Ben."
"Who?" Corvus asks, but there's something too careful in his tone. Like he already knows.
"Ben Rosen. From the Columbus program. The Beta I told you about. The one who..." I swallow. "The one I kissed."
The air in the car goes arctic. Three Alpha scents turning sharp and dangerous in the enclosed space. My Omega instincts scream at me to back down, submit, apologize for even mentioning another man.
I don't.
"He's transferring to Northwood," I continue, meeting Dorian's eyes in the mirror. "He'll be there in three days."
Dorian's jaw clenches so hard I hear his teeth grind. "Why?"
"Because I left an impression, apparently. Because he..." I force the words out. "Because he wants to see where things could go between us."
Oakley makes a sound like he's been punched. Corvus goes utterly still, the kind of stillness that precedes violence.
"No," Dorian says flatly.
"No what?"
"No, he can't transfer. No, you can't see him. No, this isn't happening."
And there it is. The control. The ownership. The thing I knew was coming but hoped we'd moved past.
"You don't get to decide that," I say, voice ice. "You don't get to control who I talk to or who transfers to Northwood or anything about my life except what the bonds force."
"The bonds—"
"The bonds don't give you ownership of my friendships," I interrupt. "Ben was kind to me. He made me laugh. He treated me like a person, not property. And he's coming to Northwood whether you like it or not."
"Did you tell him?" Corvus asks, too quiet. "About us?"
"I told him things changed. That we'd talk when he gets here."
"So he doesn't know you're claimed." It's not a question.
"He will soon enough. The marks kind of give it away."
Dorian pulls the car over so abruptly I'm thrown against the seatbelt. We're on the shoulder of the highway, hazards flashing, and he's twisted around to stare at me with eyes gone gold with Alpha instincts.
"You will not see him," he says, voice dropping an octave. "You will not speak to him. You will not—"
"Dorian." Oakley's hand on his shoulder, cedar scent trying to soothe. "Don't do this. Don't make this into what it was before."
"She'sours," Dorian snarls. "She has our marks. Our bonds. Some Beta doesn't get to—"
"Some Beta who was kind to her when we were torturing her," I snap back. "Some Beta who treated her like she mattered. Yeah, Dorian. That Beta. And you know what? Part of me hopeshe still wants me. Part of me hopes there's someone out there who chose me for me, not because biology forced him to."
The words land like bombs. All three of them go rigid. Hurt flashing across faces before being buried under control.
Good. Let them hurt. Let them understand what it feels like.
"I'm not saying I'm going to do anything," I continue, softer now but no less firm. "I'm saying he's coming to Northwood. He's going to be part of my life whether you like it or not. And if you three can't handle that? If you're going to spiral into Alpha bullshit every time another man looks at me? Then we have a much bigger problem than Ben Rosen."
