It comes out flatter than I mean. Her scent flickers—uncertain.
Ragon pushes off the island. When he moves, the room shifts with him like it always has. His presence fills space in a way that has nothing to do with how broad he is and everything to do with the way he carries himself.
"Sit."
I drop into the farthest chair by habit, shoulders tense.
His brows lift. "Closer."
"I'm fine here."
Eli's scent pinches. Drake glances between us like he's watching a match hover near a gas line.
"Verena."
The way he says my full name is a weight. Not loud. Not sharp. Just undeniable.
My instincts flinch. My pride bristles.
I scrape my chair two spots over so I'm not at the opposite end like some distant cousin. "Happy now?"
He doesn't answer. Doesn't need to. His scent eases a fraction.
We eat.
Marie's eggs are fine. They're eggs. I focus on the texture more than the taste because my stomach is too tight to want food.
Marie picks at her plate, taking small, careful bites, like she's afraid to be seen as greedy. She keeps reaching for fruit instead of bread.
I guess she really is one of those high-end omegas.
I shove a piece of egg into my mouth so I don't say what I'm thinking: that my life looks like a stranger rearranged all the furniture while I was asleep.
Ragon wipes his mouth with a napkin and sets it neatly beside his plate. That little gesture is as clear a signal as a gavel.
"House meeting. Living room. Five minutes."
Marie straightens instinctively, back going a little too straight.
I roll my eyes. "Can't wait."
He doesn't comment on the sarcasm. He just stands, collects his mug, and walks out.
Drake gathers plates. "Come on. You'll want a comfy spot. Ragon gives long speeches."
Marie glances at me, nervous, then follows him.
Eli lingers. "You can still opt to participate instead of fight."
"I can do both. I multitask."
His mouth tugs like he wants to smile and wants to sigh at the same time. "Try not to pick the option that ends in everyone stressed and you crying."
"You say that like that isn't my brand."
He places his hand on the back of my neck for one brief, firm second. Just enough to anchor. Just enough to remind me I'm not drifting in space, no matter how it feels.
"Come on. Let's get it over with."
