Jasper exhales through his nose, the sound small and furious. His hands don't leave my shoulder.
Marie limps to the edge of my nest like a bride to an aisle.
She looks down at my blankets—the cardigan I fold into the curve of my pillow, the strip of blue cotton I sleep with when Eli is on nights—and then she looks at me.
"Don't worry. We'll make it nicer."
Ragon steps between us, and his back fills my view. "Hush, Marie. Don't make it worse."
He turns to face the alphas.
"All of you. We saturate this nest with pack scent. She learns tonight that pack means everyone, including Marie. Drake. Eli. You're helping."
Eli goes rigid. "No."
The word drops like a stone.
Ragon's head swivels toward him, eyes going dark. "What did you say?"
"No," Eli repeats, voice shaking but steady. "I won't do this to her. I won't violate her nest. You can order me to hold her, you can make me watch, but I will not put my hands on Marie in Vee's safe space. I won't."
Ragon takes a step toward him, scent spiking with fury. "You refuse a direct command?"
"On this? Yes. Write me up. Discipline me. Kick me out of the pack if you want. But I willnotdo this."
The air crackles.
For a heartbeat, I think Ragon will strike him.
Drake steps forward, hands up, voice strained. "I'll do it. Ragon, I'll— I'll help. Leave Eli alone. I'll do it."
"Drake, no—" Eli starts.
"Someone has to," Drake says softly, not looking at either of us. His voice is hollow. "If I don't, he'll make you. Or he'll make it worse for her. So I'll do it."
Ragon's jaw works. He stares at Eli for a long, dangerous moment, then turns his attention to Drake. "Fine. Get started."
Drake closes his eyes for a heartbeat.
Then he moves.
He doesn't look at me when he steps into my nest. Doesn't meet my eyes when he starts unbuckling his belt with hands that shake so badly the leather slips twice.
Marie is already there, already arranging herself like she's done this a thousand times, already tilting her head back with that practiced softness.
"No one comforts her after," Ragon says, still turned away. "No one touches her. She sits with this."
"Ragon," Eli says, voice thin. "Please. This is going to damage her. You may not be able to come back from this."
"Hold her."
Eli's fingers tighten on my arms.
I can't make my mouth work.
My body is busy: heart hammering, lungs wheezing, glands squeezing out distress that makes the room smell like old hurt and burned sugar.
Ragon steps into my nest first.
