Finally Corvus. "You understand what this means," I say quietly. "What I'm doing."
"Complete reversal," he confirms. "Public claiming as statement. It's brilliant."
"Then take it," I say, and bite down.
When I step back, all three of them are bleeding, marked, mine in a way that can't be hidden or denied.
I turn to Eleanor. "That's the difference. They claimed me in darkness. I claimed them in light. They took without asking. I'm giving them a choice right now—come with me to New York, or stay here and be the Alphas who got publicly claimed by a scholarship Omega."
Silence. Complete silence in the lobby.
Then Dorian stands. Takes my hand. "New York."
"New York," Oakley echoes, standing.
"Obviously New York," Corvus adds, rising.
Eleanor's face cycles through rage, shock, grief. "Dorian, you can't—"
"I just did, Mother." He touches the mark on his throat. "She's right. This is choice. Real choice. And I'm choosing her."
Vivian Strasberg starts clapping. Slow, deliberate, impressed. "Well," she says. "That was one hell of a curtain call."
"I have that effect," I say.
"Walk with me," Vivian says, gesturing away from Eleanor. Diana follows, grinning.
We move to a quieter corner while the lobby erupts into chaos behind us.
"That was either the bravest thing I've ever seen or the most reckless," Vivian says. "I can't decide which."
"Can it be both?" I ask.
"It can be both." She pulls out a business card. "Here's the thing. That performance tonight—Hedda—was Broadway caliber. And what you just did in this lobby? That's the kind of presence that fills theaters. People want to see someone who refuses to be manageable."
"Are you offering me something?" I ask carefully.
"Off-Broadway production," Diana says. "Starts rehearsals in three weeks. Female lead, Omega character who chooses destruction over submission. The script could have been written for you."
"I'll do it," I say immediately.
"Don't you want to know the pay?" Vivian asks, amused.
"I don't care about the pay. I care about the work."
"She's perfect," Diana says to Vivian. "Told you."
Vivian hands me another card. "Call me Monday. We'll work out details. And bring your pack—New York is progressiveenough that this—" she gestures at the claiming marks "—won't be a problem if you can perform like you did tonight."
They leave, and I'm standing there with three bleeding Alphas and the ashes of Eleanor Ashworth's plans.
"We should go," Corvus says. "Before Eleanor regroups."
"Agreed," I say.
We make it out of Morrison through the side exit. Behind us, I hear Eleanor's voice rising, angry and shocked and losing control.
But we're already gone.
