I chose to test the boundaries. Chose to make toast in their kitchen. Chose movie night. Chose to let myself drift closer to Dorian on the couch. Chose to lean against him. Chose to stay when he put his arm around me.
All tiny choices that added up to something bigger.
And this morning, I'm still here. Still choosing to be here, because leaving means dying and staying means living.
But maybe...
Maybe the choice isn't binary. Maybe it's not surrender or death.
Maybe I can choose to live and still maintain some control over how.
The idea crystallizes as I get dressed—leggings, oversized sweater, hair still damp. If the heat's coming anyway, if I'm staying anyway, if biology is going to win this round anyway...
Then I set the terms.
I claim the choice they tried to take from me.
Not surrender. Strategy.
The Vespera who walked into that study room at Northwood—the one who thought she could simply reject three fated bonds and walk away—she was naive. Didn't understand the reality of what they'd done to her body.
But the Vespera standing in this bathroom? She's learned. Adapted.
Time to stop playing victim and start taking control.
They'reallinthekitchen when I come downstairs.
Dorian making coffee. Oakley doing something with eggs that smells incredible. Corvus reading on his tablet, probably medical journals about omega biology.
All three look up when I enter.
"Morning," I say.
The chorus of responses sounds cautious. Hopeful. Like they're not sure if yesterday's détente is going to hold.
"Can I talk to you?" I direct the question at all of them. "All of you. Now."
Corvus sets down his tablet. Oakley turns off the stove. Dorian's hand tightens on the coffee mug.
"Of course," Dorian says. "Living room?"
I shake my head. "Here is fine. This won't take long."
Leaning against the kitchen island, I cross my arms.
This is the most real thing I've done in weeks.
"My heat is coming," I say. "Today or tomorrow. I can already feel it starting."
Oakley's intake of breath is sharp. Dorian goes very still. Corvus's eyes narrow slightly—calculating, always calculating.
"And I've decided to stay here for it."
The relief that crosses all three faces would be satisfying if I wasn't about to crush it.
"But," I continue, voice hardening, "we're doing this my way. My rules. My terms. And if any of you break them, I walk—heat or no heat, sickness or no sickness. I'll die before I let you take my choices again. Understood?"
Silence.
