"Rule two: her choice, always. If she says stop, we stop. If she says slow down, we slow down. If she changes her mind halfway through something, we accept it without complaint or guilt-tripping. She sets the pace. We follow." More nods. Hwan's hands were clenched at his sides now, his jaw tight with the effort of containing whatever he was feeling. I understood. The instinct to claim, to protect, tohave— it was screaming in all of us. But instinct wasn't going to help her trust us.
"Rule three: no pushing for more than she offers. If she wants to talk, we talk. If she wants silence, we give her silence. If she wants physical contact, we let her initiate. We don't assume, we don't pressure, we don't make her feel like she owes us anything."
"What if she asks for something?" Min-jun's voice was hesitant, his rose pink bond flickering with uncertainty. He twisted the dish towel between his hands again, his brow furrowed. "What if she initiates something physical and then seems unsure? How do we know when to?—"
"You ask." I kept my voice simple, direct, making sure he understood. "Out loud, with words. 'Is this okay?' 'Do you want me to stop?' 'What do you need?' She's been making decisions alone for a long time. She's not used to people checking in. So we check in. Constantly. Until she tells us to stop asking."
"And if she does want us to stop asking?" Tae-min tilted his head, genuinely curious rather than challenging, his dark hair falling across his forehead. "If she gets annoyed with all the questions?"
"Then we adjust. We pay attention to her cues. We learn her." I let a small smile cross my face despite the heaviness in my chest. "That's what this week is for. Learning her. The real her, not the version she shows the world. Not the walls she's built to protect herself. The person underneath all of that."
Jin-ho was quiet for a long moment, his violet bond pulsing with the intensity he usually reserved for composing. His fingers tapped silently against his thigh — a rhythm only he could hear. When he spoke, his voice was thoughtful, measured.
"Rule four." He straightened slightly, meeting my eyes with quiet conviction. "Communication. Between us, I mean. We report back after each one-on-one session. Share what we learned, what worked, what didn't. Not to compare or compete, but so we can all be better for her. So we're not repeating mistakes or missing things she needs."
"Yes." I nodded, grateful that he understood. "Exactly. We're a pack. We work together. This isn't about who wins her heart first or who she likes best. It's about all of us, together, being worthy of her."
"Being worthy." Hwan's voice was soft, almost reverent, and the golden amber bond in his chest seemed to glow brighter for a moment, warm and hopeful. His shoulders relaxed from their tense line, something settling in his expression. "I like that. It's not about claiming her. It's about earning her."
"It's about earning her trust." I corrected gently, holding his gaze. "The claiming comes later. When she's ready. When she chooses it."
The room fell silent again, but it was a different kind of silence now — thoughtful rather than tense, each of us processing what this week would mean. What was at stake. What we stood to gain if we did this right, and what we stood to lose if we didn't.
"Hyung?" Tae-min's voice was smaller than usual, younger somehow, and when I looked at him I saw the uncertainty he usually hid behind enthusiasm and energy. His hands were clasped between his knees now, mirroring Jin-ho's earlier posture. "What if... what if she doesn't choose us? What if she decides the bonds aren't worth completing? What if she?—"
"She won't." The words came out fiercer than I intended, my alpha surging forward at the mere suggestion of losing her. I forced it back, forced my voice to steady, gripping the armrests of my chair. "She's already chosen to stay. She's already chosen to try. All we have to do is show her that choosing us is worth it."
"And if we can't?" Min-jun asked quietly, ever the one to voice the fears we were all thinking. His dark eyes were liquid with worry, his rose pink bond trembling. "If we're not enough?"
I looked at him — at all of them — and felt the indigo bond pulse with something that might have been determination, or desperation, or both.
"Then we become enough." My voice was steady now, certain. "Whatever it takes. Whatever she needs. We become it." The silence stretched between us, heavy with promise and fearand hope. Then Hwan moved first, crossing the room in three quick strides to clasp my shoulder with a grip that was firmer than his usual playful touches. His golden amber bond blazed against mine, warm and fierce.
"We can do this." His eyes were bright, intense, all traces of his usual playfulness replaced by something deeper. His golden amber bond was blazing now, bright as the sun he pretended to be. "Wewilldo this. She's worth it."
"She's worth everything." Tae-min bounced to his feet with renewed energy, his earlier uncertainty replaced by determined optimism. His crimson bond pulsed in agreement, strong and steady. "When do we start? Tomorrow morning? Should I?—"
"Let her sleep." I couldn't help the small smile that tugged at my lips despite everything. His enthusiasm was infectious, even now. "Tomorrow we'll talk to her together. Explain the plan. Make sure she's comfortable with it."
"And if she's not?" Jin-ho asked, always the one to consider contingencies. He'd risen from the couch, standing with his hands in his pockets, his violet bond humming with quiet readiness.
"Then we adjust. We ask what she would prefer instead. We?—"
"Let her lead." Min-jun finished, and there was something like wonder in his voice, his rose pink bond settling into contentment. The dish towel hung forgotten at his side. "We let her lead, and we follow."
"Exactly." I stood, suddenly exhausted in a way that had nothing to do with physical tiredness. The past few days had been a rollercoaster — the hope when Tae-min came home with news that she was trying, the agony of waiting, the terror when Min-jun told us she'd collapsed, the desperation of searching for her, the overwhelming relief of finding her still breathing, still fighting.
Now this. This fragile, precious thing we were trying to build. This chance to prove that pack bonds didn't have to mean consumption. That alphas didn't have to mean control. That love didn't have to mean losing yourself.
"Get some sleep." My voice was softer now, the pack alpha command replaced by something gentler. "Tomorrow's going to be important. We need to be at our best."
They dispersed slowly — Hwan pausing to squeeze my arm one more time, his touch lingering before he finally pulled away. Jin-ho nodded silently as he passed, his violet bond brushing against mine in quiet solidarity. Tae-min bounced toward his room with energy that would probably keep him up for hours despite my advice, his footsteps light on the hardwood floor.
Min-jun lingered longest, hovering in the kitchen doorway with that worried expression he couldn't seem to shake. The dish towel was back in his hands, twisting between his fingers.
"Hyung." His voice was quiet, meant only for me now that the others were gone. "Are you okay? Going last, I mean. I know it's hard for you. The pack alpha instincts..."
"Are my problem to manage." I met his eyes, let him see the truth I was trying to hide from the others. "Yes, it's hard. Yes, every part of me wants to be with her right now, wants to hold her and scent her and never let go. But that's exactly why I need to wait. She needs to see that I can control it. That I'm not a slave to my instincts. That she's safe with me."
