"But good." I met his gaze. "It was good, Dorian. You were good. All of you."
The relief on his face was almost painful to witness. Like he'd been terrified I'd wake up regretting everything. Regretting him.
"Thank you for staying," he said quietly. "For giving me that chance to prove—"
"Less talking, more coffee." I pushed him toward the edge of the bed. "And food. I'm starving."
"On it." He stood, gloriously naked, and grabbed his boxer briefs from the floor. "Meet you downstairs?"
"Give me twenty minutes to shower."
He left, and I lay there for another stretch, processing. This was my life now. Waking up in a pack house with three Alphas who I'd chosen—mostly chosen—to keep. Testing every day whether the reconciliation would hold. Whether they'd actually respect the boundaries we'd negotiated. Whether I could really trust them not to become the monsters they'd been.
So far, they were trying. Really trying.
I just hoped it would be enough.
Theshowerhelped.Hotwater sluicing away three days of sweat and sex and biological imperatives. I stayed under the spray longer than necessary, letting the heat work out some of the muscle soreness. By the time I emerged, wrapped in one of the obscenely soft towels Dorian had stocked the bathroom with, I almost felt human again.
My clothes were waiting in the walk-in closet like Dorian said—not only the outfit I'd need today, but half my wardrobe. When I'd moved in three weeks ago, I'd insisted on keeping my apartment off-campus. My space. My escape route. But somehow more and more of my things kept migrating here. Combat boots lined up next to designer heels. My ratty theater hoodies hanging beside expensive cashmere.
Evidence of a life I was building. Whether I was ready for it or not.
I dressed carefully in my uniform—the Northwood blazer I'd fought so hard to earn the right to wear, pleated skirt, and my combat boots because fuck their dress code. My jasmine scent was still overlaid with pack—sandalwood and cedar and mint—but that would fade in a few days. The claiming marks on my throat, though? Those were permanent.
I traced them briefly in the mirror. Still getting used to seeing them. Still processing that I'd chosen this. Mostly chosen this.
Downstairs, the kitchen was exactly the organized chaos I'd come to expect. Oakley at the stove, humming while he cooked. Corvus at the island with his laptop and espresso, probably already three hours into his day. Dorian leaning againstthe counter scrolling through his phone, his own uniform immaculate.
They all looked up when I entered, and something in the air shifted. Softened.
"Morning," Oakley said with that warm smile that still surprised me. "Made your favorite—French toast with the good cinnamon."
He had. Three weeks of living here and he'd memorized what I liked for breakfast, what helped settle my stomach after heat, what made me smile on bad mornings.
It was terrifying how much he cared.
"Thanks," I said, sliding onto my usual stool at the island. Corvus pushed coffee toward me without looking up from his screen—two sugars, no cream, perfectly timed to still be hot. Dorian set his phone down, his ice-blue eyes tracking over me like he was checking for injuries.
"How are you feeling?" he asked quietly.
"Like I spent three days having sex and can barely walk," I said bluntly.
Oakley snorted into his own coffee. Corvus's mouth twitched. Even Dorian smiled, though it was still careful. Still testing whether I'd accept humor or shut down.
"Fair," Dorian conceded. "But seriously—"
"I'm fine. Sore but fine." I picked up the fork Oakley had set with my plate. "And I need to get to campus. I've already missed three days of rehearsal and De Scarzis is going to have my head."
"I'll drive you," Dorian said immediately.
It wasn't a question. We'd had this argument enough times that I'd stopped fighting it. He'd drive me, and he'd pick me up, and it was his way of taking care of me without being controlling about it. Most of the time.
"Fine. But you're not staying to watch rehearsal."
"I know."
"And you're not interrogating Ben about what scenes we're running."
