Chase doesn't hit play right away.
His hand hovers over the tablet for a long moment, fingers still, eyes scanning the room like he's taking inventory—not just of who's present, but of who isn't.
"Before we proceed, I need everyone who was involved to be present."
Ragon stiffens behind the couch. "Everyone is here."
Chase's gaze flicks briefly toward the hallway, then back. "All alphas in the household. And Marie."
The air tightens.
For a moment, no one moves. Then Ragon exhales slowly through his nose, the sound controlled but strained, and turns his head slightly toward Eli.
"Get them."
Eli hesitates, eyes darting once toward me, then nods and heads down the hall.
I remain where I am, half-hidden near the arm of the couch, my hands clenched in the oversized t-shirt Arden gave me that I slept in. It hangs off one shoulder, soft and familiar and suddenly very noticeable under the scrutiny of strangers.
Chase notices.
I know he does because his gaze lingers—not in the obvious way alphas sometimes look at omegas, but in thatsharp, assessing way that makes me feel like I've been filed into a mental folder.
He doesn't say anything yet.
Footsteps return—multiple this time. Jasper enters first, posture stiff, face tight with concern. Drake follows close behind, jaw clenched, scent unsettled. Eli brings up the rear.
Marie trails in last.
She stops dead the moment she sees the tablet on the coffee table.
Color drains from her face so fast it's like watching a tide pull back from shore. Her lips part, eyes widening as her gaze flicks from the screen to Chase, then to Ragon.
"No," she says immediately, the word sharp and panicked. "No, we don't need that."
Her voice rises with each step. "You don't need that. I already told you what happened."
She turns fully toward Ragon, desperation bleeding into anger. "I'm your scent match. You're supposed to trust me."
The words crack across the room.
Ragon doesn't move.
"We're going to watch the video," he says calmly.
The control in his voice is worse than shouting would've been.
Marie stares at him like she doesn't recognize him anymore. "You don't trust me. You're choosingheragain."
She gestures wildly, not even looking at me. Like I'm an object she can't bear to focus on directly.
"You're myalpha. You're supposed to protect me."
Drake steps forward instinctively when she stumbles, catching her as she folds into him. She buries her face against his chest, fingers clutching at his shirt as she wails.
"He doesn't trust me. My own alpha doesn't trust me."
Drake's arms come around her automatically. His eyes flick toward Ragon, torn, confused, scent spiking with distress.
