The word tastes wrong.
And yet—my body remembers the zoo. Remembers hands. Remembers being dragged, restrained, humiliated by the very alpha that was designated to protect me.
My stomach rolls.
Ragon's gaze cuts toward me again, as if he's checking whether I'm about to bolt.
I stay frozen.
I don't want to be in this.
I also don't want to be excluded from it.
Because if they review footage without me, they'll tell the story without my body in the room to contradict it.
Chase steps inside with measured permission. The other suited alphas follow.
The living room feels suddenly smaller.
Ragon moves ahead of them automatically, guiding them toward the center.
"Sit," Chase says to his team quietly.
Eli closes the front door behind them, the latch clicking with a finality that makes my chest tighten.
Ragon turns back to Chase. "We can discuss the report. But the footage—"
"We need everyone present. Everyone who was there. Everyone involved."
Ragon's gaze flickers toward the hallway, and I know he means me. He means Marie too. He means Jasper. He means all of them.
My feet finally move, slow and reluctant. I stop near the edge of the space, half behind the arm of the couch.
Chase watches me approach with calm focus. Not sympathetic. Not cruel. Just attentive.
He sets a tablet down on the coffee table. His hand hovers for a moment as if he's giving us one last chance to breathe.
Ragon stands behind the couch instead of sitting, posture rigid, arms crossed tight. Eli lingers near the doorway.
My mouth feels dry.
"We received the zoo footage this morning," Chase says, voice even. "From the facility's security system. It took much longer than we'd have liked since there were issues surrounding the zoo's attorneys releasing it, but they finally sent it over. Due to the contents of the footage, I decided to come directly here to discuss with you, Mr. Charles, how we are going to proceed forward with this case."
My fingers curl into the fabric of my shirt.
Chase taps the screen.
The tablet flickers to life, bright in the dim room.
For one beat, it's just loading—a spinning icon, a faint glow.
Then an image resolves.
A wide-angle view of the zoo walkway.
The world tilts slightly in my head as the footage begins, and the room falls into tense, absolute silence—every breath held, every eye locked on the screen, waiting for the truth to play out in front of us.
Chapter 28
