Xavier's composure finally cracks, his voice rising. "She's right. We're treating her like a trophy instead of a person we claim to care about."
"We do care about her," Logan says, but there's uncertainty in his voice now.
"Do you? Because caring about someone means considering their feelings before making life-altering decisions that affect them. It means asking what they want instead of assuming you know." Xavier's mint scent has gone sharp with anger. "It means treating them as an equal partner, not a conquest."
Griff's hands curl into fists, his work boots heavy on the hardwood as he paces. "So what are you saying, Doc? That we should pretend the bite doesn't exist?"
"I'm saying we should have talked about this before any marking happened. All of us. Together."
"When?" Logan demands, running both hands through his hair until it stands up in dark spikes.
“I’m here to plan a wedding. Emma’s. In case you’ve forgotten why I’m here,” I say, my voice rising to match theirs.
"Bullshit," Griff says, stepping closer despite Logan's warning look. "You're here because we never got over you."
I’m not answering nor confirming that, because not only is my head spinning but my stomach is too.
“It doesn't give you the right to make decisions about my body or my future without asking me first."
“True. Savannah. I’m sorry,” Griff says, and then slumps in the chair. Avoiding eye contact and probably embarrassed about his little outburst.
Griff is making progress, no longer leaving takeout all over the place or scattering his building equipment. Yet it all feels too soon. I keep waiting for the real Griff, the one who flirted and then made me feel like an unwanted houseguest, to reappear.
Now my head is pounding, a combination of stress and the wine I consumed with Emma and the overwhelming scent of three frustrated alphas filling the hallway with their competing pheromones.
"I need to go," I say suddenly, pushing off the wall and heading toward the stairs. "I can't do this right now."
"Where are you going?" Logan asks, moving to block my path.
"Emma's. I'm going to stay at Emma's until you three figure out whether you want a pack mate or a possession."
"Savannah, wait..." Xavier says.
"I'll take you," Logan offers, reaching for his keys on the hall table.
Tears I've been holding back for hours start spilling down my cheeks, hot and unwelcome and completely mortifying.
"I didn't mean to cause tension... then again, you weren't exactly a great pack to begin with, but I've fucked up something that was already more fucked up than it was fucked before I got here."
"Savannah..." Xavier steps forward, his voice gentle.
"I'm sorry I let Logan mark me." The words pour out of me like a dam bursting, all the guilt and confusion and self-recrimination I've been carrying since this morning. "I'll finish Emma's wedding and then I'll leave, and you can go back to being a pack without me screwing everything up."
"No," Xavier says firmly, moving closer. "We're sorry. We're the ones who fucked this up, not you."
"Xavier's right," Logan adds, his voice rough with guilt. "This isn't your fault. None of it."
But the stress and alcohol and emotional overload have finally caught up with me. My stomach lurches violently, and I barely have time to turn away before I'm throwing up all over the hardwood floor of their pristine hallway.
"Shit," I gasp between heaves, mortification burning through me like acid. "Oh God, I'm so sorry..."
"Hey, hey, it's okay." Xavier's hands are on my shoulders, holding my hair back as my body continues to betray me. "You're okay. Let it out."
When the worst of it passes, I'm shaking so hard I can barely stand. Xavier's arms come around me, lifting me against his chest like I weigh nothing, and I bury my face in his neck because I can't bear to look at the mess I've made.
"I've got you," he murmurs, his mint and cologne scent wrapping around me like comfort. "I've got you, sweetheart. It's going to be okay."
"Logan, grab some towels from the linen closet," Xavier says, his voice carrying quiet authority. "Griff, there's cleaning supplies under the kitchen sink. We need to get this cleaned up before it stains the wood."
