"Don't lump me in with her. You think if you throw me under the bus fast enough, she'll feel secure enough to stay? 'Don't worry, Marie, the other omega already got rejected once, she won't give you much competition.'"
Ragon's voice cuts through.Warning. “Vee.”
"And you." I whirl on him, pointing. "You just let him say it. In front of her. Like my value is some tragic little bio line on your household resume."
His eyes go hard. "That is not what happened."
"That's what it felt like. Like he stampedused goodson my forehead and invited her to read the label."
Drake looks stricken. "That is not—"
"You can't even deny it. You've had two months to get used to her existence. To talk it through. To decide how to 'handle' me. And this is what you landed on? Tell the new omega the old one's already proved she's not worth keeping?"
"Enough."
The word comes louder. Sharper.
I barrel over it. "What's next, you going to show her the return policy? 'Don't worry, if she causes trouble, we can drop her off at the registry again.'"
Eli moves like he's going to put a hand on my shoulder. I shrug him off.
"You don't get to do that. You don't get to take my deepest humiliation and toss it into the middle of the room like you're sharing a cute anecdote. You don't get to decide when and how my trauma is a useful icebreaker."
"I said enough." Drake snarls it, moving to stand over me.
The sound shocks me into silence.
I've heard him angry before. Irritated, frustrated, snappy. Never this.
His scent slams into me, dominance surging like a wave. The easy, sparkling citrus goes hard and sharp,undercut with something deep and commanding that rarely surfaces.
My body reacts before my brain does. My knees nearly buckle. My mouth snaps shut.
He steps toward me, shoulders squared, hazel eyes blazing.
"Do not put that on me. Do not rewrite what I said because you're hurting. I would never, ever tell someone you're not worth keeping."
"You just told her I wasn't kept," I whisper.
His jaw works. "That's a fact. It's not a value judgment. They were wrong. You know that. I know that. I will not stand here and let you twist my words into something cruel so you can justify pushing us all away."
His voice is low but full of alpha command, each word wrapping around my ribs like bands.
My instincts whimper. Literally.
A high, helpless sound escapes my throat. Omega, submissive, desperate.
Humiliation floods me.
I hate this. I hate that my body yields when I don't want it to. I hate that Marie is sitting right there watching me lose a dominance battle in my own living room. I hate that part of me wants this—wants someone solid enough to push back against the chaos.
"Stop," I breathe.
His expression softens a fraction, but the dominance stays. "We're done with you talking like that. You can be angry. You can tell me I hurt you by sharing. You can drag me into the bedroom later and yell until your throat is raw. But you do not stand in the middle of this room and callyourself a cast-off toy and accuse me of being the one throwing you away."
Tears spill over, hot and fast. I hate him. I love him. I hate that he's right.
"Do you understand?"
