Julian smirks, tucking his phone away. "I'll save it for special occasions. Anniversaries. Birthdays. Any time I need leverage in an argument."
"That's diabolical," Ruby says approvingly. "I respect it."
They're conspiring against me. My own pack and my best friend are conspiring against me while I'm too medicated to defend myself. This is betrayal of the highest order.
I want to protest, but it seems like too much effort. Everything seems like too much effort right now. Even keeping my eyes open is starting to feel like an Olympic-level achievement.
"Are we bringing Sasha?" Elias asks, his voice drifting into my awareness from somewhere to my right. "Wherever we're going?"
"We could," Tank replies thoughtfully. "Just need to work out the paperwork. Pet transport internationally requires some documentation."
Internationally? Where are we going that requires international pet transport? Are we leaving the country? Since when is that the plan?
I try to ask these very important questions out loud, but what comes out is something completely incomprehensible--a string of syllables that might be words in some language but definitely aren't coherent English.
Everyone turns to look at me, varying degrees of confusion on their faces.
I try again, putting all my concentration into forming actual words. "Sasha," I manage, "has to come. No dogs left behind. That's abuse. That's cruelty. That's illegal in... in probably some places."
"We wouldn't dream of leaving Sasha behind," Tank assures me gently. "He's part of the pack too."
"Good," I say firmly, nodding again. The room does another pleasant spin. "He's a good boy. The best boy. He deserves international travel. He deserves to see the world. He deserves pao de queijo."
"Dogs can't eat cheese," Julian points out.
"Some dogs can eat cheese," I counter, though I'm not actually sure if that's true. It feels like it should be true. "Sasha can eat whatever he wants. He's special."
Ruby groans loudly, pushing herself up from where she's been leaning against the wall. "God, I cannot watch this any longer. My best friend has been replaced by a cheese-obsessed, possessive, delusional version of herself, and I need to go process this somewhere that doesn't smell like antiseptic."
"Where's my bestie going?!" I demand, trying to reach for her and failing miserably because my arms apparently don't work properly right now. "Ruby! Don't leave me! Come back!"
Tank's hand moves from my cheek to my hair, stroking soothingly. "She's going to make sure the cafe is taken care of while we're gone," he explains in that low, calming voice of his. "And she's going to help pack some outfits for you for where we're headed."
I pout, my lower lip jutting out in what I'm sure is a very pathetic and manipulative manner. "Where are we going?"
Tank smirks, that infuriatingly handsome smirk that makes my stomach do little flips even through the medication haze. "It's a surprise. But I promise you're going to love it."
"Is it Rio?" I ask hopefully.
"It's not Rio."
"It should be Rio."
"Noted." His smirk widens. "But it's somewhere you'll enjoy just as much, I promise. Maybe even more. Somewhere you can rest and recover properly, away from all the stress and the chaos and the people who want to hurt you."
Somewhere away from all the stress. Somewhere safe. With my Alphas. That does sound nice, even if it's not Rio with its cheese balls and convenient religious monuments.
"But if you don't rest," Tank continues, his voice dropping into something more serious, "we can't get there faster. You need to sleep, Sweetness. Let the medication do its job. Let your body heal."
I close my eyes obediently, then immediately open them again. "I'm closing my eyes and resting," I announce. "See? Resting. Let's go."
Tank chuckles, leaning down to press a soft kiss to my forehead. His lips are warm against my skin, and his scent--cedar and pine and safety--wraps around me like a blanket. "No faking sleep, Sweetness. Actually sleep."
"I'm not faking," I protest, even though my eyes are definitely still open and I'm definitely still awake. "Look. I'm asleep. This is what asleep looks like. Let's go to the not-Rio place."
"That's not how sleep works," Julian points out, sounding thoroughly entertained.
"You don't know how my sleep works," I counter, which doesn't make any sense but feels like a solid argument in my current state.
