Malcolm heads into the kitchen with Finn following a second later.
I close my eyes, trying to breathe normally.
From the couch, I can just barely hear them in the kitchen.
Not words at first—just the hush of voices and the clink of a glass.
Then Finn's tone sharpens, angry and low.
"...can't believe they went that far," Malcolm whispers back, the words barely audible but loaded with disbelief.
Finn's answer is strained. "No one expected Ragon to act so cruelly."
My eyes open.
My heart stutters.
Malcolm's voice comes again, tighter now. "Maybe we made a mistake."
Mistake?
My stomach drops. I try to focus harder, but the words blur at the edges, too quiet to catch fully. My mind scrambles, trying to connect it to anything that makes sense.
A mistake in what?
Before I can twist it into something coherent, Alex's voice cuts in sharply from beside me, directed toward the kitchen.
"That's enough. Bring the drink."
Silence follows.
Finn and Malcolm return a moment later, expressions carefully neutral, Malcolm holding a glass of water.
He hands it to me. "Here."
I take it with trembling fingers and sip. I glance between them, confusion prickling, but Finn smiles gently and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear like nothing happened.
Too much has happened today.
I don't have the energy to peel apart whispered arguments and hidden meanings.
So I let it go.
I let myself curl back into Alex's chest as Malcolm sits again, close enough that his knee brushes mine. Finn settles nearby, his hand returning to my hair.
Their warmth surrounds me, cocooning me from the world.
My eyelids grow heavy.
The adrenaline that carried me here drains out all at once, leaving behind exhaustion so deep it feels like sinking.
Alex's arm shifts slightly, settling more firmly around my shoulders, secure but not trapping. Malcolm's purr starts again, low and steady, vibrating through the couch.
Finn hums quietly under his breath, a sound that isn't quite a purr but is soothing in its own way.
I breathe them in—blocked scents, warmth, the soft cadence of voices and steady touch—and my omega instincts quiet, satisfied for the first time all day.
Complacent.
