"Zia," Kit started, putting his mug down slowly. "You're up. We... good sleep?"
"Don't track-change me," I said, leaning against the wall for support. My knees felt a little watery, not from heat, but from the sheer voltage in the room. "I heard you. 'Material fact.' 'Lying by omission.' 'Triple match.' Explain."
Silence dropped like a heavy curtain. The air in the room seemed to vibrate. I watched them exchange glances, a rapid-fire, silent conversation of micro-expressions.You do it. No, you. We're screwed.
Alfie stepped forward first. Of course he did. He was the frontman. He was the one who threw himself into the lights.
"We matched," he said.
He stopped ten feet away, respecting the line, but his eyes were eating me alive.
"We scent-matched you. All three of us. In the venue. The second you shoulder-checked me in the dark."
I blinked. I processed the input, but the output signal was just static.
"That's... unlikely," I said, falling back on logic because it was the only thing that didn't hurt. "Biologically speaking. The odds are?—"
"Infinitesimal," Euan interrupted. He stood up, his movements stiff. "I have run the simulation four thousand times. I have checked the pheromone data from the HEPA filters. I have analyzed the chemical composition of the air in the green room."
He looked at me, his expression tortured.
"It is not a hypothesis, Zia. It is data. Your signature, citrus and ozone, it locks into my alpha sites with 100% efficiency." He pointed at Alfie. "And his." He pointed at Kit. "And his."
"It shouldn't be possible," Kit rumbled, leaning forward, elbows on knees. "We're different profiles. Alfie's chaos. I'm structure. Euan's logic. We shouldn't all want the same frequency. But we do."
I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly feeling very small in Euan's oversized hoodie.
"You knew?" I whispered. "Since the beginning?"
"Since the lights went out at the Showbox," Alfie said softly. "Why do you think we ran away? Why do you think we couldn't stand next to you while you fixed the board?"
"I thought you were repulsed," I admitted. "Or worried about PR."
Alfie let out a harsh, wet laugh. "Repulsed? Fox, we were drowning. We were standing in that hallway trying not to drop to our knees and beg you to let us carry your cables."
He took a step closer, forgetting the distance rule for a second before checking himself. He ran a hand through his chaotic hair.
"We knew you couldn't feel it," he said, his voice dropping to that raw, indigo texture that destroyed me on the track. "We saw it in your face. You looked at us and saw... coworkers. Clients. Problems to fix."
"Scent-blind," I said automatically. "Plus, I have blockers. Heavy ones."
"We figured," Euan said. "So we made a choice. If you couldn't feel the bond, we wouldn't weaponize it against you. We wouldn't use biology to force a connection you didn't ask for."
"But last night..." I trailed off.
Last night, I had asked. I had opened the door. I had let them touch.
Kit stood up. He moved slowly, telegraphing his intent, until he was standing by the kitchenette, putting himself between me and the exit, but leaving plenty of space.
"Last night," Kit said, "was the hardest thing we've ever done. And the best."
He looked at me, his dark eyes soft and impossibly vulnerable.
"Because you didn't know," he said. "You didn't have the hormones screaming at you that we wereyours. You just... chose us. You were burning up, and you trusted us to be the ice."
"Which makes it real," Alfie whispered. "Don't you get it? If you felt the match, maybe it's just chemistry. Maybe it's just instinct driving the bus. But you don't feel it. You're flying blind. And you still let us in."
"It was the best night of my life," Alfie confessed, the words tumbling out of him. "Sleeping in that pile? Knowing you were safe? Knowing I wasn't too much for you? It was better than any show I've ever played."
