"Still stands. Anytime. No pressure. No hard sell. You say the word, I'll bring my alphas by for coffee, you can sniff us, see if we smell like safety or indigestion."
"That's not exactly how it works," I say, but my chest does something stupid at the phrase smell like safety.
"It's a start. I won't lie to you—if you came to us, it'd be work. You'd hate me some days. You'd hate yourself others. Healing's not cute. But you'd never have to wonder if we were on your side."
I watch Noah and Jonah finally head toward the exit, fingers laced. Jonah holds the door open, hand on the small of Noah's back as he passes through.
"That," Chase says again, waving their way, "is what I want for my pack. However that ends up looking. Whoever we end up with." He looks at me. "You deserve that, Vee. Not whatever distributed starvation you've been living on."
I look down at my hands. They're steady, like always now. Too steady.
"I don't know what I deserve. I just know I don't want to bleed for anybody's lesson anymore."
"Good. That's step one."
Jasper texts to check in on me.
"How do packs make two omegas work?" I blurt, thumb still on my phone. "The healthy ones. The ones that don't look like mine."
He doesn't even pause. "They don't shove a new lightning strike into a house with an omega who already carved out home and then demote the one with history. When it works, it's because both omegas arrive together or they're given equal footing from day one. Boundaries set in ink. Neutral territory. Consent at every step. Alphas on the same page."
"Equal footing," I repeat, tasting it.
"Yeah." His mouth crooks. "When a scent match shows up midstream? The packs that deserve the name hit the brakes. Sometimes they say no to the match. Or they court it slow. They don't make the existing omega shrink to make room. They rearrange the furniture, not the person."
I picture my nest torn up like carpet. "And if they don't?"
"You saw it. You can make anything look stable if you ignore the shake long enough. Until it cracks." He tips his chin. "What your alphas did might have worked if they'd moved at your pace and stayed unified. If they'd earned a pass into your space instead of treating your space like the test." He shrugs. "They did it backwards. You're all paying for it and the price tag's steep. Might be more than your house can afford."
Something cold and honest settles low in my stomach.
"Is there a version where it gets better and doesn't feel like chewing glass?"
"There's a version where it gets different. Better happens after enough different that your body stops expecting hurt. That means time. Distance from the thing that set your system on fire. Accountability that isn't just speeches. And a lot of days where you do not let anyone make you the lesson."
My phone buzzes again. Jasper: in the parking lane. hazard lights because I'm dramatic.
"I have to go."
Chase nods once. "Text if you want to smell my people before you decide anything. Or if you just want a gym where nobody calls you defective."
"I called me defective."
"Then stop. I don't hand out many orders, but that's one."
I breathe out a laugh that hurts. "I'll try."
He lifts two fingers in a lazy salute and peels off toward the free weights.
Outside, the night air is cooler. Jasper leans against the car, arms folded, jaw tight.
His eyes flick over my face. "Good class?"
"Yeah," I say, surprising both of us with how easy the word comes.
As we pull away, I glance in the side mirror.
Through the gym's glass doors, I can see Noah and Jonah on the sidewalk, heads bent close, laughing at something only they can hear.
