"We restrict her freedom until we can trust her," I said firmly. "She doesn't leave our sight. She doesn't have access to anything she could use to harm herself. We keep her safe, even from herself."
Caleb nodded, satisfaction settling into his features. "Good."
"Third rule," I continued. "The goal is for her to love us. Not just submit—love. That means we court her. We remind her why she adored us when she was young. We give her reasons to choose us, even though she doesn't have a choice."
"She used to follow me around the house like a little shadow," Leo said, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "Used to bring me books she thought I'd like. She was so eager to please."
"She used to leave drawings outside my door," Caleb added, his voice soft with memory. "Seek me out when the house felt too big. She fell asleep on my shoulder once, when she was twelve. I sat there for three hours, afraid to move."
"She trusted us," Ethan said, his green eyes distant. "Before she learned to be afraid. Before her mother died and she decided she had to do everything alone."
"She'll trust us again," I said. "We just have to be patient. Show her that we're not going anywhere. That fighting us is pointless—not because we'll hurt her, but because we'll never stop."
"How long?" Leo asked.
"As long as it takes," Caleb answered before I could, his voice carrying that same patient certainty he'd shown last night. "We have all the time in the world. She doesn't."
I nodded, feeling the truth of it settle into my bones. "Eventually, fighting the bonds will exhaust her. And when she stops fighting, she'll feel what we feel. She'll understand."
"What about her work? Her life outside the cabin?" Ethan asked, ever practical.
"Doesn't exist anymore," I said. "Leo handled it—her apartment is gone, her job doesn't expect her back, her phone is at the bottom of a lake. As far as the world knows, Ava Lexton disappeared."
"And David?" Leo asked. "He's going to want to see her eventually."
"Not until she's settled. Could be weeks, could be months. When she's ready to be around other people without trying to signal for help, we'll reintroduce her to the family." He told them with a sigh.
"The family knows," Ethan pointed out. "About the claiming. About all of it."
"They know, and they approve." I thought of David's face when I'd called him last night—the quiet satisfaction, the approval in his voice. "He's wanted this for her since the day Elena brought her home. He knows we'll take care of her."
"Better than her mother ever did," Leo muttered, and I felt the agreement ripple through all of us. Elena had failed Ava. Had filled her head with fear about Alphas, had kept her isolated and suppressed, had convinced her that independence meant being alone. Elena had done everything in her power to keep Ava from us and she'd almost succeeded.
But Elena was dead now. And Ava was ours.
"Final rule," I said, drawing their attention back to me. "We present a united front. She doesn't play us against each other. She doesn't get to manipulate one of us into undermining the others. When she tests boundaries—and she will—we respond together. Consistently. She needs to understand that fightingone of us means fighting all of us." Nods from all three. Through the pack bonds, I felt our unity solidifying—four Alphas aligned in purpose, dedicated to the same goal.
Our Omega. Our mate. Our Ava.
"Now," I said, setting down my empty coffee mug. "She's been in that bathroom long enough. Time to remind her that hiding from us doesn't work." I walked back down the hallway, my brothers falling into formation behind me. Caleb moved to his earlier position against the wall, the same spot where he'd spent hours last night, talking to her through the door, patient as stone.
Through the bond, I felt Ava's awareness spike, she knew we were coming. Her despair sharpened into something harder. Defiance.
Good. Defiance was better than despair. Defiance meant she still had fight in her. I knocked on the bathroom door. "Ava. It's time to come out."
Silence.
"I'm not asking." More silence. Then, through the bond: a surge of fury so intense it nearly took my breath away.
"Fuck you," came her voice through the door, hoarse from crying. "Fuck all of you."
I smiled. There she was. My fierce, stubborn, beautiful Omega.
"We can do this the easy way or the hard way," I said calmly. "The easy way is you open the door and come out on your own. The hard way is Caleb breaks it down and carries you out."
"Try it and I'll claw your eyes out," she snarled. Behind me, Caleb made a low sound—not quite a laugh, but close. Through the bond, I felt his appreciation for her fire. He'd told me last night that he loved her defiance, even when it was directed at him. Especially when it was directed at him.
"You have thirty seconds," I said. "Then we're coming in." Twenty-eight seconds of silence. Then, at twenty-nine, the lock clicked open. The door swung inward, revealing Ava standing in the doorway. Her red hair was tangled, her green eyes swollen from crying, her neck still bandaged where she'd clawed at my mark. She looked exhausted, furious, broken.
