I stop. The basket tilts against my hip.
Nosy, my brain whispers.
It's about you, another part replies.
I set the basket down as quietly as I can and tiptoe closer, socks muting my steps. The wood is warm when I press my shoulder to the wall beside the doorframe. I angle my head just enough to catch the voices without letting anyone see my shadow.
"...acting like she's fine," Drake is saying, softer. "But she's not Vee."
My name in his mouth feels distant. Abstract.
Eli again, sharper. "I opened her door this morning to check on her and the bed is still stripped to the bare minimum. No extra blankets. No nest. She's sleeping in thechair. Do you understand how messed up things have to be for her to choose a chair over rebuilding a nest?"
"Maybe she likes it," Ragon answers, stubborn and tired. "Maybe it feels safer to her right now."
"That's the problem," Eli snaps. "That a nest doesn't."
I shouldn't want to hear this. I should walk away. My feet stay welded to the floor.
A whisper of movement behind me makes the hairs on the back of my neck rise. I glance over my shoulder.
Marie stands at the other end of the hall, bare feet, leggings, one of Drake's t-shirts hanging off one shoulder. Her hair's up in a messy knot.
Her eyes widen when she sees me by the door. For a second I expect her to flounce inside and announce that I was snooping.
Instead, she pads closer on silent feet, lips already parted for a question.
I put a finger to my mouth without thinking. Her brows shoot up.
Eli's voice rises again; Ragon answers low. Marie's gaze flicks to the crack of light, then back to me. Something sharp and curious flashes through her scent.
Then, slowly, she mirrors me—finger to her lips, mouth pressing shut.
We stand side by side in the hallway like feral children hiding from the adults, listening to them talk about us.
If I weren't half-dead inside, I'd probably choke on the irony.
Inside the office, Jasper speaks for the first time. His voice is calm enough to be surgical.
"This isn't just about sleep surfaces. Her scent is nearly gone. That isn't hygiene. That's suppression. Flattening. She doesn't reach for you. Any of you. Nor me, not that she ever has. Nor even the neighbors who've never betrayed her. She calls you 'Alpha' like a stranger. She's compliant because that's the safest option, not because she trusts you."
Ragon's chair creaks.
"I had to do something," he growls. "She almost killed Marie."
Beside me, Marie stiffens. Her fingers curl into the hem of her shirt.
"We don't even know that," Drake says. "We haven't checked the footage."
"She said Vee was behind her and then she was falling," Ragon says. "You didn't see it from where you were."
"No. I saw Vee screaming and trying to climb the railing after. That's what I saw."
"And she's been spiraling since before the zoo," Eli adds. "This didn't come out of nowhere. You've been pushing her harder and harder for months."
Ragon's scent spikes even through the crack in the door.
"So I should have done nothing? Let her keep lashing out? Let that jealousy fester until she really did shove someone into traffic, or down a set of stairs, or—"
