***
Morning is softer.
We wake tangled, my cheek stuck to his chest, his arm dead asleep under my neck. The nest smells like us now—citrus and sweat and my omega sweet, layered over Eli's calmer thread.
For once the mix doesn't hurt.
It feels like something whole.
Drake blinks blearily. "Ow. You elbowed me in the night."
"You snored in my ear."
He grins, sleep-soft. "Worth it."
Warmth spreads through me. I tuck myself closer, savoring this brief illusion that nothing outside this nest exists.
We emerge eventually, because real life doesn't care about my nest fantasies.
I'm still a little sore in that smug, secret way. Drake is rumpled but relaxed, hand resting on the small of my back as we head down the hall.
The house is too quiet.
A bad quiet.
My instincts prickle as we round the corner into the living room.
Eli is on one end of the couch, posture tense, hand wrapped around a mug he isn't drinking from. Ragon is seated beside him.
Marie is between them.
Her eyes are red-rimmed. Her cheeks blotchy. She's wrapped in one of the pack's big throw blankets, shoulders shaking with occasional sobs.
Both alphas are angled toward her, scent thick with concern.
The air reeks of distress and comfort.
Drake's hand drops from my back like I burned him.
"Marie?"
Her head jerks up.
When she sees him, fresh tears spill over. "Drake," she chokes, like his name hurts.
He's across the room and at her side before I can blink.
"Hey, hey, hey. What happened? What's wrong?"
Stupid question.
I know before anyone says it.
My stomach drops.
"I heard you," she says, voice small and wrecked. "All night. I heard you with her."
She doesn't look at me.
