"Verena."
Ragon's voice comes from the doorway like a shot.
I flinch. Drake stiffens.
Ragon steps into the dim light, forearms crossed over his chest, every inch the unamused head of the household. The tattoos on his arms look more intense in the shadow, dark ink stark against skin.
"What did we say about weaponizing your fear?" Too calm.
"That it's entertaining?"
He crosses the kitchen in three strides.
"Look at me."
My body obeys even as my brain scrambles for a cutting remark.
His hand comes up, fingers closing around my jaw—not painful, but firm enough that my mouth is trapped. His thumb rests along my cheekbone, his palm warm against my skin.
He tilts my face up.
"Stop it."
The words carry weight. Not just sound. It presses against my nerves, slides under my skin.
My heart kicks. My omega instincts, already rattled and frayed, seize on the command like a lifeline and a collar all at once.
Heat prickles behind my eyes. "He—" I try to argue around his hand. It comes out garbled.
"Drake can defend himself. This is about you. You do not get to talk like that. Not to him. Not about yourself. Not in this house."
I swallow. My throat works against his fingers.
His gaze doesn't waver. "Do you understand me?"
Shame and relief twist together in my gut. Being stopped hurts. Not being stopped would hurt more.
"Yes."
His grip tightens a fraction. "Try again."
"Yes, Alpha."
He studies me for another heartbeat. Then his hand eases, sliding away from my face. His fingers brush my jaw once, softer, before falling to his side.
"Good girl."
I feel about three inches tall and a thousand pounds heavy.
Drake shifts his weight. "Ragon, it's my fault. I shouldn't have—"
"This isn't about blame. It's about patterns. We are not going to set a precedent where every time she feels scared, she throws the worst-case scenario into the room and waits to see who bleeds."
The words sting because they're true.
He looks back at me. "If you need reassurance, ask for it. Don't try to create proof that you're right to be abandoned."
My throat closes. A tear spills over before I can swipe it away.
