"What are you suggesting," Ragon asks, voice like ground glass.
Arden's gaze softens, just a fraction. "My pack has fostered omegas in Verena's position before. Nest violations, forced displays, scent flattening. We're good at creating low-pressure environments for instinct to return on its own time. We're also currently open to taking in a permanent omega, if the fit is right and she’s willing."
My heart trips over itself. Every alpha goes rigid.
"I am not here to poach," Arden adds quickly, looking at me. "Verena, I need you to hear that. I don't make offers like that lightly, and never without the omega's explicit desire."
He looks back at Ragon. "But if you decide that you cannot make the changes needed, or if Marie's status makes the situation untenable, my pack would be willing—if Verena agreed and custody were legally transferred—to take on her care."
The room explodes.
Ragon is on his feet so fast the chair skids back. His roar rips through the air, pure alpha fury.
"You think I'm just going to hand her over? To you? Some OPA lapdog who strolls in here and calls me a monster?"
Drake flinches. Eli winces. Marie shrinks.
Jasper's eyes go very flat.
Arden remains sitting, though his posture tightens. "I think you need to decide whether your pride matters more than her recovery."
"My pack matters more than some outsider's opinion. You come into my home, insult me, insult my mate, sniff around my omega, and then suggest she'd be better off with you? Get. Out."
"Ragon—" Eli starts.
"I said out!" Ragon roars.
His scent is a wall, suffocating.
Arden rises slowly, hands visible and empty. He doesn't posture.
"I will go. But I'm filing a report. Theywillcome knocking, Ragon. Not because I want to take anything from you. Because your omega is in distress and the Office's job is to intervene when packs fail and aren’t willing to make amends."
Ragon's rage stutters at the word fail.
Arden turns to me.
"Verena. You are not broken. You are injured. Everything in you that feels gone is still there, under the scar tissue." His eyes are steady, kind. "If you ever decide you want help—mine or anyone else's—tell Jasper. He can reach me. I know he worries."
My throat works. I nod once.
Arden looks at the others. "You owe her an apology. A real one. Not today; she doesn't trust you enough to hear it. But soon. And you owe it to her not to repeat the behavior you're apologizing for."
He picks up his bag, clips his badge back. "Thank you for your time," he says, and walks to the door.
No one tries to stop him.
When the front door closes, the silence hums.
Ragon stands in the middle of the room, chest heaving, fists clenched. His scent is a snarled mess.
Marie looks slapped. Drake looks sick. Eli looks like he's holding himself together by willpower. Jasper looks very, very tired.
I sit on the edge of the couch, blanket of numbness wrapped tight.
For the first time since the zoo, since the bed, since the nest, I have heard someone with authority say out loud:
What happened to you was wrong.
