The honest answer is no.
But sandwiched between Ragon's solid warmth and Eli's quiet touch, with the echo of Marie's conflicted scent still fading down the hall, I find a small, shaky piece of truth I can live with.
"I'm not as not-okay as I was a few days ago. So okay."
His mouth curves. "I'll take it."
Ragon's hand flexes over my hip, steady and sure.
For a moment—just one small moment—I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, there's a version of this future where I don't get pushed off the edge.
Where there's actually room for me.
Even if we have to redraw all the lines on the floor to make it.
Chapter 6
It starts with a schedule.
Not a big one. Not a spreadsheet or color-coded calendar on the fridge. Just a sheet of notebook paper on the kitchen table one morning, Ragon's blocky handwriting across the top: SLEEP ROTATION.
I stand there in my pajama shorts and hoodie, hair a mess, clutching my coffee mug, and stare at it like it's a notice of eviction.
"Subtle."
Drake, who's half-bent into the fridge, straightens up with orange juice in hand. "You saw it."
"Hard to miss." I read it again.
Mon: Vee – Drake; Marie – Ragon/Eli
Tue: Vee – Eli; Marie – Drake/Ragon
Wed: Vee – Ragon/Drake; Marie – Eli
Thu: Vee – Eli/Ragon; Marie – Drake
Fri: Vee – Drake/Eli; Marie – Ragon
Sat/Sun: flexible - at least one alpha with each omega
The letters blur for a second.
"We had a system."
Eli sits at the table, nursing his tea like it's an IV drip. His blond curls are damp from a shower. He doesn't look surprised by the paper.
"We had chaos," Ragon corrects, coming in from the hall. He's in sweatpants and a black t-shirt, dark hair pulled back in that tight man bun that makes his cheekbones look sharper, tattoos visible down his forearms. "This is structure."
"Our old chaos worked. We all piled into my nest, then whoever fell asleep where they were supposed to was the winner. It was like musical chairs but with more snoring."
"It worked when there were four of us and one nest," he says. "There are five now, and two nests. We need to make sure everyone gets what they need."
My grip tightens on my mug. "So you're just... assigning us."
"I'm making sure neither of you feels left out," he says. "Every night, each omega has at least one alpha. No one sleeps alone unless they choose to."
Drake pours juice. "And hopefully," he says, a little too brightly, "we're working toward all of us pack-piling into one nest eventually. Like the good old days but... bigger."
