She looks away.
Ragon's jaw is grinding like he's chewinggravel.
"Enough. We are not standing in a parking lot dissecting this."
"We should," Eli says, temper fraying. "We should ask for the footage right now. The staff were already calling security. They'll have logs."
"Later," Ragon snaps. "Right now, our scent match nearly died, and we need to get her home and checked properly."
Our scent match.
The phrase rings.
"I didn't push her," I say again, because maybe if I repeat it enough times, reality will rearrange itself.
Ragon turns his gaze on me.
It's like looking into a storm.
"Get in the car."
The words are flat. No room for argument.
"Ragon—"
"Get. In. The. Car."
His scent hits me like a wall—fury and fear and leftover adrenaline.
My omega folds under it, instincts cowering.
My chest aches.
"I didn't," I whisper, one last time. "Please. I didn't do this."
He closes his eyes for a heartbeat.
When he opens them, they're colder.
"We'll talk at home."
He doesn't sayI believe you.
He doesn't say anything close.
That's almost worse than if he'd called me a liar outright.
Drake gently takes over pushing the wheelchair, murmuring to Marie. She sobs into her hands. Jasper moves to flank, silent and watchful. Eli squeezes my shoulder, his own scent a mess of anger and worry.
"We'll get the footage. If the zoo doesn't volunteer it, I'll go through channels. This isn't going to just stand."
I nod, throat too tight to answer.
We reach the SUV.
Ragon gets Marie settled in the backseat, Eli sliding in beside her to brace her leg. Drake takes the other side, crowding close, whispering apologies into her hair. Jasper climbs into the third row.
I end up in the front passenger seat, because where else is there for the possibly attempted-murderess omega to sit?
