I want to argue. Want to explain that the fear isn't rational, that it lives in my bones and my blood and has been shaping my choices since I was twelve years old. Part of me—the small, quiet part that noticed the pull when watching SIREN's performance—wonders if she might be right.
"What if I told you," I say slowly, "that I might already have an idea who they are?"
Jeni's eyebrows shoot up. "What? How? You just got your mark yesterday."
"I know. But there's a project—a group I've been assigned to write for. And they..." I trail off, unsure how to explain the tingle in my mark, the pull I felt watching their performance. "They're five alphas. With a shared mark. Waiting for their sixth."
The silence that follows is deafening.
"Wait." Jeni's voice is barely a whisper. "Are you telling me you think your soulmates might be?—"
"I don't know for sure," I cut in quickly. "It could be a coincidence. The universe isn't that cruel."
"Keira." Jeni's eyes are wide. "Who is the group?" I hesitate. The NDA sits heavy in my memory, but Jeni isn't media. She's not going to run to the press. I need someone to know, someone to help me process this impossible situation.
"SIREN." The word hangs in the air between us. Jeni's jaw actually drops. For a moment, she's completely speechless—a rare occurrence for someone who usually has an opinion on everything.
"SIREN," she repeats finally. "As in, the biggest group in the country. The five alphas who've been looking for their omega soulmate for years. Those SIREN."
"Those SIREN." I nodded to her.
"And you think..." She gestures vaguely at my neck, where the mark is hidden beneath my sweater. "You think those five flowers are for them?"
"I don't know what I think." I take a long sip of my coffee, letting the bitter warmth ground me. "But when I watched their performance yesterday, my mark reacted. All five flowers, at the same time. It could be nothing. It could be coincidence. But..."
"But it might not be." She finished for me.
"It might not be." I agreed. Jeni sits back in her chair, processing. I can practically see the wheels turning in her head, connecting dots and calculating possibilities.
"Okay," she says finally. "Let's think about this logically. Your mark appeared on your twenty-third birthday, right on schedule. The very same day, you get assigned to work with a group of five alphas who've been publicly searching for their omega soulmate for that last few years." Jeni ticks points off on her fingers. "A group whose music you've always been drawn to, who just happen to need a lyricist, who you're going to have to work closely with for the foreseeable future."
"When you put it like that, it sounds—" I mutter and Jeni cuts me off.
"Like fate," Jeni finishes. "It sounds like fate, Keira. And I know that word scares you. But maybe it shouldn't."
"My mother thought she could fight fate," I remind her. "It cost her everything."
"Your mother chose to break her bond instead of complete it," Jeni counters. "That's not fighting fate—that's running from it. And running didn't save her, did it?" The words land like a blow to the chest. Not because they're cruel, but because they're true.
"So what are you saying?" My voice comes out smaller than I intend. "That I should just... let it happen? Stop running and see what fate has in store?"
"I'm saying that running hasn't worked for your mother, and it won't work for you." Jeni reaches across the table again, taking both my hands in hers. "I'm saying that five soulmates might sound terrifying, but it also might be exactly what you need. Five people who are meant to love you, support you, understand you in ways no one else can."
"Or five people who will consume me." I look away from her trying to shake of the thoughts.
"Or that." Jeni's grip tightens. "But you won't know which until you try. And isn't not knowing worse? Isn't spending your whole life hiding and running and being afraid... isn't that its own kind of death?"
I don't have an answer for that. The question sits between us, heavy with implications I'm not ready to face.
"Just promise me something," Jeni says finally. "Promise me you won't run. Not yet. Give it a chance before you decide it's a disaster. Meet them, if you get the opportunity. See what the bond actually feels like before you decide it's going to destroy you."
"I can't promise that." I told her. I didn’t want to promise her that.
"Then promise me you'll try." Her eyes are earnest, pleading. "Promise me you'll at least try to stay open. To see where this goes. You deserve happiness, Keira. Even if it comes in a form you didn't expect."
I look at my best friend, this woman who's stood by me through everything, who's never judged my choices even when she didn't understand them, and I feel something in my chest loosen slightly. Not the fear, exactly. But maybe the loneliness that's been my constant companion for so many years.
"I'll try," I say finally. "I can't promise more than that."
