Chase watches them with the same fond exasperation I do.
"That," he says quietly, tipping his chin their way, "is what it's supposed to look like."
"Messy hoodie?" I say, because deflection is a sport.
He huffs. "Healthy. Thriving. He knows where his omega is every second without having to keep him on a leash. Noah knows his alpha will move heaven and earth before he lets anything touch him. They each give, they each take. Nobody's starving."
I swallow. "You sound like you've thought about this a lot."
"Occupational hazard. You spend enough time around people who treat omegas like accessories or liabilities, you start cataloguing the ones who don't."
I chew my lip. "How do you know so much about it? You don't have an omega."
His mouth does that crooked half-smile. "I'm still an alpha. We come with instincts. A decent one? Feels that shit down to the bone. You see someone in your care start shrinking, you either change something or you give them somewhere else to go where they'll grow again."
"And the ones who don't change?"
He shrugs, big shoulders rolling. "Not worth their salt. Should've been born a chair if they're gonna just sit there while everything under them breaks."
A laugh huffs out of me, shaky. "That's vivid."
"True, though." He tilts his head, studying me. "How's the home front, little omega?"
I wince at the nickname and he notices, but doesn't comment. "Loud. Confused. They brought in a specialist. My behavior—or lack of now—apparently qualifies for an acronym."
His face darkens. "Yeah. Heard OPA had opinions."
"You know about that?"
Chase's jaw tightens. "I work for the registry. Your incident file crossed my desk." His eyes soften with something like guilt. "I shouldn't even be talking to you while I'm involved in the case. They'd have my hide if they knew. But I can tell you that you can put your trust in Arden. He's thorough. He won't let this slide."
I think of Arden's steady eyes, his calm voice telling Ragon he'd call in the OPA.
"Yeah. I got that vibe."
Across the room, Noah laughs at something Jonah says. Jonah's hand finds the back of his neck, thumb rubbing absent circles.
Chase follows my gaze again. "You want that. Not necessarily them. That feeling."
I wrap my arms around myself. "I don't know if I remember how to want anything. Not like that."
"Instinct doesn't die. It plays dead. Sometimes for a long time. Doesn't mean it's gone."
"You sound like Arden."
"He's not wrong."
We stand there in the hum of post-class noise, watching two people be soft with each other in a way that doesn't cost anyone else blood.
It feels wrong, how foreign the picture is in my bones.
"Your offer," I say, before I can talk myself out of it. "From the zoo."
He arches a brow. "Which one? I made a few, if I recall. Something about proper alpha treatment, something about a criminally under-guarded neck..."
Despite myself, my mouth twitches. "The pack one. Trying a new one."
His joking ease fades. He straightens, attention sharpening.
