When he speaks to me now, I keep my eyes on my plate. My chest tightens just from the sound of his voice—not with the old flutter ofalpha, mine, safe,but with something cold that tastes like dread.
"Vee. You're on trash and recycling today. And call about the leak in the master bathroom."
His tone is flat. Instructional. Like I'm a task on a list.
"Yes, Alpha."
I don't look up. I learned that the hard way. Looking up means seeing his face, which means seeing the lack of warmth there, which means remembering that I went numb for him on my knees and he still chose her.
"You hear me?"
"Yes, Alpha."
No argument. No commentary. No doing the thing I used to do where I adjusted the plan around everyone's schedules.
"Good."
I hear the satisfaction in his voice. The quiet approval.
He thinks this is working.
He thinks I've learned.
Marie glances at me like she expects a joke, a snark, some deflection. When none comes, something shifts in her expression. Not quite a smile. But close.
I eat my breakfast one small bite at a time and pretend none of this hurts.
Ragon walks into the kitchen later that morning while I'm wiping down counters.
I don't hear him at first. Just feel the shift in the air—the weight of his presence, the pine-smoke scent that used to meansafeand now meansbe careful.
I freeze mid-wipe.
"Counter looks clean," he says.
I don't turn around. "Almost done."
He moves closer. Not threatening. Just... there. Taking up space behind me.
My shoulders hunch without permission. My body angles away, putting the counter between us even though there's nowhere to go.
"Vee."
I force myself to look at him. It takes effort.
His blue eyes scan my face. Assessing. I used to love when he looked at me like that—like I mattered enough to pay attention to. Now it just feels like an inspection I'm going to fail.
"The house looks good," he says. "You've been keeping up with everything."
"Yes, Alpha."
"Marie said you've been helpful. Letting her settle in."
Of course she did.
"She lives here," I say. "She should feel at home."
Something in his expression softens. Pleased. "I'm glad you're adjusting."
