“The visit was Tristan’s idea,” Dane says immediately.
“Hey!” Tristan protests.
“It was a group effort,” Rett corrects. “And it was wrong. We’re sorry.”
Zoe looks surprised, like she wasn’t expecting an actual apology. “Well. That’s... something, I guess.”
“We’re new at this,” I offer with a small smile. “The whole... courting thing.”
“Courting?” Zoe repeats, an incredulous laugh escaping her. “Is that what you call it?”
“What would you call it?” Rett challenges, some of his usual directness returning.
She opens her mouth to respond, but at that moment, the jukebox switches to something with a heavy bass that makes the entire floor vibrate. She grimaces, raising her voice to be heard. “I’d call it a mess!”
“What?” Tristan cups his ear dramatically.
“A MESS!” she shouts, just as the music hits a momentary lull, her voice carrying far louder than intended.
Several nearby patrons turn to look, including a group of rowdy-looking men at the bar. One of them, a burly alpha with abeard and a flannel shirt that’s seen better days, perks up visibly at the sight of Zoe.
“Great,” Rett mutters, noticing the attention. “Just what we need.”
Zoe follows his gaze and groans. “Ignore them. They’re harmless.”
“They’re drunk,” Dane observes, his posture straightening slightly.
“It’s a bar,” Zoe points out. “Most people are.”
“Can we get back to the point?” I suggest, trying to refocus the conversation. “Zoe, we know this is overwhelming. Believe me, we’re overwhelmed too. But there’s something happening here that none of us fully understand, and I think we owe it to ourselves to figure it out together.”
She studies me for a long moment, something softening in her expression. “Diego, you seem...” She hesitates. “More reasonable than the others. So tell me honestly. If these marks weren’t taking hold, if they were fading like they’re supposed to with a beta, would you still be sitting here? Would any of you?”
It’s a fair question, and one I haven’t fully considered until this moment. Would we? If the marks were fading, if the static remained despite her presence, would we still be pursuing her with this intensity?
“Yes,” I say without hesitation, surprising even myself with the certainty in my voice. “At least, I would.”
Her eyebrows lift slightly. “Why?”
“Because you’re Zoe.” I gesture to the planner between us. “Because you doodle grumpy cats in the margins of your life. Because you color-code your meetings and write things like ‘BRING MUFFINS’ in all caps. Because you laugh at Tristan’s jokes but call him on his bullshit. Because you make Dane speak in full sentences, which is a miracle in itself.”
Dane grunts in what might be agreement.
“Because,” I continue, warming to my subject, “you chose this bar specifically to make us uncomfortable, and that’s bothdevious and brilliant. Because you’re not intimidated by us, even though most people are. Because you’re wearing those marks on your neck openly now, instead of hiding them, and I don’t know if that’s a ‘fuck you’ to us or to everyone else, but either way, it’s bold.”
Zoe blinks, looking slightly stunned by my outburst.
“Wow,” Tristan murmurs. “Tell us how you really feel, Diego.”
I ignore him, keeping my eyes on Zoe. “So yes, I’d still be here. Marks or no marks. Static or no static. I’d want to know you.”
For a moment, she just stares at me, a flush creeping up her cheeks. Then she clears her throat, reaching for her beer. “That’s... a lot.”
“It’s the truth,” I say simply.
Before she can respond, a shadow falls across our table. I look up to find the burly alpha from the bar looming over us, swaying slightly on his feet.
“Hey there, beautiful,” he slurs, his attention fixed entirely on Zoe. “Couldn’t help but notice you with these... gentlemen.” He says the word like it’s an insult. “Thought you might like some real company.”
