"I can do that," she protests.
"I know. But I want to." He grins at her. "Let me be useful."
She rolls her eyes but doesn't argue. Leans against the counter and watches him with something soft in her expression. Something that makes hope flare painfully in my chest.
Maybe we can do this. Maybe it's actually possible.
"We should get going," Corvus says, checking his watch. "Campus will be chaos with everyone moving in."
"Right." Vespera straightens, and armor slides into place. Getting ready to face the world. "Let's do this."
Thedrivetocampusis quiet. Tense. All of us processing what comes next.
When we pull into the parking lot, students are everywhere. Moving boxes, hauling suitcases, reuniting with friends. The energy is electric. Excited. First day of fall semester energy.
And we're about to walk into it as a unit. A publicly claimed pack with the most controversial Omega on campus.
"Ready?" I ask, glancing at Vespera in the rearview mirror.
"No." But she's already opening her door. "But let's go anyway."
We walk across campus together. Four of us in a loose formation—me in front, Corvus and Oakley flanking Vespera. Protective without being obvious. Pack formation without making it a statement.
Except it is a statement. Every head that turns, every whispered conversation that stops mid-word, every stare that follows us proves it.
The Ashworth pack claimed an Omega. The scholarship girl. The one they hunted.
The thoughts are practically audible even unspoken. The questions in every face we pass.
Vespera holds her head high. Refusing to look cowed. Refusing to act like she has anything to be ashamed of.
Fuck, she's magnificent.
We reach the theater building and she pauses at the entrance. Turns to look at all three of us.
"Thank you for walking me," she says formally. Like we're acquaintances instead of her pack. "I can take it from here."
"We have class in the same building," Oakley points out.
"I know. But I need to walk in alone." Her jaw is set. Determined. "People need to see me as me. Not as your Omega."
The words sting, but she's right. If we hover, if we follow her everywhere, we're proving every assumption about controlling Alphas and submissive Omegas.
"Okay," I say. Even though everything in me screams to follow. To protect. To claim. "We'll see you after class."
She nods and walks through the doors alone.
The three of us stand there like idiots, watching her go.
"That went well," Corvus says dryly.
"Shut up."
My Voice class is torture.
Not because of the material—Professor Valenti is brilliant as always, breaking down breath support and resonance with surgical precision.
But because I can't stop thinking about Vespera one floor below in Movement, surrounded by other students, without any of us there to make sure she's okay.
