No texts.
Nothing.
The screen is empty.
The realization settles slowly, painfully.
They don’t even know I’m gone.
Or they know—and they don’t care.
My shoulders slump, the last of my panic draining into something quieter and heavier. Sadness spreads through me, dull and aching.
Alex notices immediately. He tips my chin up gently with one finger, forcing me to meet his eyes.
“What is it?”
I shrug weakly. “My phone’s empty.”
He waits.
“They probably don’t even care that I’m gone,” I whisper. “They have Marie. She’s more important.”
The words come out flat, stripped of drama, and that somehow makes them worse.
Malcolm makes a sound under his breath—low, angry. He steps forward and pulls me out of Alex’s arms and into his bare chest without hesitation.
The contact steals my breath.
His skin is warm, firm, and his scent—still blocked but stronger than yesterday—hits me immediately. It curls around my senses, rich and grounding and frustratingly just out of reach.
I inhale deeply before I can stop myself.
My omega instincts light up like someone flipped a switch.
I whine again, frustrated this time, my fingers curling into his sides. I want more. I want to understand his scent, to sink into it properly, but the blockers keep it just beyond my grasp.
Malcolm exhales slowly, holding me steady. “Sorry,” he murmurs. “I think I was late taking my blocker.”
“I can almost smell it,” I complain softly, miserable. “Not enough. Why do you take blockers anyway?”
Finn watches us with concern and something else—calculation, maybe. “Breakfast,” he says suddenly, distracting everyone from my question. “She needs to eat.”
Malcolm nods. “Yeah. Food first.”
I shake my head, pulling back reluctantly. “I really need to go back. Before they notice.”
Alex snorts quietly. “You’re not walking back into that mess on an empty stomach. Not with the way you’re feeling.”
Finn smiles gently. “Just eat. Then we’ll talk.”
They herd me into the kitchen without rushing me, setting me on a stool at the island while Finn moves efficiently around the space. Malcolm hands me a glass of juice. Alex leans against the counter nearby, watchful.
The kitchen fills with the comforting smells of food—eggs, toast, something warm and hearty. My stomach growls traitorously, and I flush.
Finn grins. “There it is.”
We sit together around the island, the mood lighter despite everything. They ask me small, normal questions. They tease me gently. Malcolm makes a terrible joke that makes me laugh before I can stop myself.
