Cass’s arms come around me immediately, solid and sure, anchoring me in place. I feel Warren move on my other side, his hand settling at my back, warm and steady, like a brace holding me upright. Beck hovers behind the alpha, tense and furious, and quiet for once.
“I know,” Cass murmurs. His voice is low, careful. “I can feel it.”
Our bond hums, not calming yet, just present. Like he’s sitting with my pain instead of trying to push it away.
I shake my head against his shoulder. “I thought I was past it,” I say, my voice breaking. “I haven’t had a flashback in so long. Not since you—” I stop, swallowing hard. “And then he was there. Like no time passed at all.”
Cass stills.
“He?” he repeats gently.
I pull back just enough to look at him. My chest feels tight, my lungs working too fast.
“I want to be in my nest.”
The words barely leave my mouth before Cass looks up. He meets Warren’s eyes across the room, something silent and immediate passing between them.
Warren moves.
One second, I’m sitting there shaking, the next Warren’s arms are around me, scooping me up bridal-style like I weigh nothing. My stomach drops at the sudden movement and I gasp, fingers curling into his shirt as my heart stutters and then takes off again.
“It’s okay,” he whispers, low and steady. “I’ve got you.”
The room blurs.
I hear Beck somewhere behind us, his voice sharp with anger as he says something about dismissing the kitchen staff, but Warren is already carrying me out of the dining room, away from the table, away from the smells and the voices and the memory of Ken’s eyes on me.
The living room passes in a rush of light and color.
I can’t focus on anything.
My chest hurts. My hands won’t stop shaking. Everybreath feels too shallow, like I can’t quite get enough air no matter how hard I try.
We hit the stairs, and Warren adjusts his grip on me without slowing down, one arm tight under my knees, the other firm around my back. I cling to him, pressing my face into his shoulder, sucking down lungfuls of his soft sandalwood scent.
Grason steps up beside us as we hit the landing. He’s close enough that I can feel the heat of him, his presence a solid wall at our side.
Behind us, I hear the soft, uneven rhythm of Cass’s steps. The faint tap of his cane. He’s keeping up as best he can, close enough that I can feel him through the bond, a constant, burning thread of concern and control and barely restrained fury.
My fear keeps climbing, ugly and relentless, and underneath it there’s something worse. Grief. Old and raw and sudden.
They’re all around me. Carrying me. Guarding me. Protecting me.
But it hurts anyway.
I squeeze my eyes shut, tears leaking out no matter how hard I try to stop them, and let Warren carry me the rest of the way up the stairs, deeper into the house, toward my nest, hoping the walls there will finally let me breathe.
Her Nest
Cassian
I am fucking furious.
The kind of rage that sits tight in my chest and burns hot enough to crack bone if I let it loose. But I keep it locked down, layered under control and discipline, because the last thing Tansy needs is to feel my emotions spilling through our bond and feeding the fear already tearing her apart.
I need to figure out what the fuck actually happened tonight.
This wasn’t a bad family dinner with cruel, indifferent fathers and a narcissistic mother. There’s something deeper going on.
