"That's progress," I stated, forcing my shoulders to drop two inches. "That's massive progress."
"She's hiding," Alfie countered, dropping onto the banquette and putting his head in his hands. "From us. Because we're monsters who tricked her into sleeping in a mates-pile without telling her the subscribe-and-save terms and conditions."
"We didn't trick her," Euan said, his voice gaining a little stability. "We prioritized her psychological safety over our biological claim. There is a distinction."
"She doesn't feel the distinction, mate," Alfie argued, voice muffled by his palms. "She feels managed. She said it. 'I'm not a project.' We made her feel like a problem to be solved."
I walked over to the kitchenette. I needed to do something with my hands or I was going to tear the upholstery apart. Igripped the edge of the counter, leaning my weight into it until my triceps burned.
"Of course she panicked," I murmured.
"So what do we do?" Alfie looked up, desperation etched into every line of his face. "Do we go back there? Apologize? Grovel?"
"Negative," Euan said sharply. "Pursuit validates the predator dynamic. If we approach her secure zone now, we confirm her fear that she has no territory we cannot breach."
"Euan's right," I agreed, hating it. "Stay away. Do-Nothing Protocol applies double right now."
"So we just... sit here?" Alfie looked at his hands. "While she thinks we're in here plotting how to lock her down?"
"We're not plotting," I said. "We're waiting. We're giving her the space she asked for."
"And if she comes out with her bags?" Alfie asked, the fear naked in his voice. "If she comes out and hands us the Exit Card?"
The thought was a knife in the gut. I pictured it. Zia, hoodie pulled up, face blank and professional, handing over that laminated piece of plastic that Rowan had promised her was a golden ticket to freedom.
"Then we let her go," I said. The words felt like spitting teeth.
"Kit—" Alfie started.
"We let her go," I repeated, harder this time. "Because if we try to stop her, if we try to block that door with our bodies or our biology, then we prove every bad thing she thinks about Alphas is true. We prove she was right to run in Seattle."
The silence came back, sullen and terrified.
Then, from the corridor, a soft, dry cough.
We all spun around.
The curtain to Cal's bunk, the middle one, the Beta zone, slid back a few inches. Cal's face appeared, looking rumpled and sleepy, hair sticking up in tufts. He blinked at us slowly, lookingentirely unbothered by the heavy emotional radiation poisoning the air.
"Right," Cal said, his voice raspy with sleep. "Are you lot quite finished?"
Alfie stared at him. "Cal? You've been here the whole time?"
"Hard to sleep when the air smells like a burnt caramel factory exploded inside a panic attack," Cal remarked dryly. He pushed the curtain fully open and swung his legs out. He was wearing striped pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt that saidI'm With The Bandin ironic font.
"You heard," I said. It wasn't a question.
"Hard not to," Cal said. He rubbed his face, then looked at us with that terrifyingly calm Beta level-headedness that usually saved us from jail or bankruptcy. "So. Triple match. Big revelation. Bit dramatic on the delivery, if I'm honest."
"Cal," Alfie whined. "Not the time."
"Perfect time," Cal corrected. He stood up and padded into the lounge, ignoring the heavy Alpha static. He walked right past Euan and clicked the electric kettle on. Theclickwas the loudest thing in the room.
"You've dropped a nuclear bomb on the poor girl," Cal said, watching the water gauge. "She's spent her whole career dodging single Alphas who want to own her tracks. You three just told her you're a collective biological conspiracy designed to own hersoul."
"We don't want to own her," I growled.
"I know that," Cal said, glancing over his shoulder. "You know that. She doesn't know that. She knows data. And the data says three Alphas usually equals zero choice."
