"I doubt it. He's busy. Marie keeps everyone informed of what she needs. It's efficient."
Finn swears under his breath. "So your body is burning out by degrees and everyone's too wrapped around her to notice the smoke. Cool. Love that for you."
"It's not their job to notice. Not anymore."
"The hell it isn't," Malcolm mutters.
Alex leans forward. "Vee. Whatever you feel—or don't feel—right now, your nervous system is still wired the way it was. You were built to respond to alpha presence. You can't just decide not to need it."
My lips quirk humorlessly. "Watch me."
"That's not funny," Finn says.
"I'm not joking."
They fall quiet, watching me like I might crack.
I sip my tea, one steady swallow, then another. My hands are calm. No white-knuckled grip. No unconscious lean toward warmth. I am a statue that happens to be breathing.
"This isn't normal," Finn says finally. "You're not supposed to be able to sit between three alphas and a betaand not smell like anything and not do anything. No reaching. No flinching. No nothing."
"It's peaceful."
"It's wrong," Malcolm counters.
Alex's eyes soften. "If the registry sees you like this, they're going to assume you're suppressed. Traumatized. They'll use it to justify interventions, not exceptions. They'll investigate your alphas."
Finn drags a hand through his hair. "Okay, new plan. You are not going to walk back into that house and calmly ask to be made a free agent like you're canceling a subscription. Not without backup."
"I don't need backup."
"You don't think you do. Different."
Alex watches me over steepled fingers. "We can't tell you what to do. But if you go down this path, you need to know what you're walking into. Registry doesn't like messy. They'd rather shove you into a box than admit their systems failed you."
"Maybe I'll fit better in a box. At least it's honest about being a container."
Finn makes a sound like someone stepped on his tail. "I hate that you just said that so calmly."
I lift a shoulder. Let it drop.
Malcolm pushes the cookie plate closer. "Eat. Humor me."
I pick one up because saying no would start an argument. Chocolate and sugar and butter melt on my tongue. It's good.
"See?" Finn says, grasping for normal. "Still capable of joy. We can work with that."
"Don't make me your project."
"You're not a project," Alex says quietly. "You're a person we like."
"And who smells wrong," Malcolm adds. "And talks about leaving her pack like she's discussing the weather."
"And sits there like a beta accountant instead of the omega who practically nested in my pantry the first time she came over," Finn finishes. "Yeah, we're worried."
I take another sip of tea, letting their concern wash around me like water around a stone.
"I appreciate it. Really."
