"No." I didn't let go of Cal, but I turned my head to look at Neal. Held his gaze. Let him see that I knew. That I felt everything he was trying to hide. "Stay."
He hesitated. The war on his face was almost painful to watch — the part of him that wanted to cross the room and join us fighting against the part that still thought he shouldn't.
"Neal." James's voice was low. Rough with the same heat that was coursing through all of us. "Get over here."
For a moment, I thought he'd refuse. Then something in his expression cracked — resignation, surrender, the final collapse of walls he'd been building for weeks.
He stepped into the room. Closed the door behind him.
He didn't join the pile on the floor. That would have been too much, too fast. But he sat down in the chair — my chair — close enough that his knee brushed my shoulder.
Close enough that I could feel the heat of him. Close enough that the bond screamed with how badly I wanted to pull him down here with us.
Cal lifted his head from my shoulder. Looked at Neal with those gold eyes that saw too much.
"You came," he said. The words were clearer now. Stronger.
"I came." Neal's voice was rough. Wrecked. His hand moved — hesitated — then settled on my hair. A tentative touch, barely there. "I'm here."
The bond between the four of us hummed. Complicated, tangled, aching with unfulfilled want. But present. Real.
We sat in silence for a while. Just existing in the same space. Learning what it felt like to be together. To want and not take. To let the longing build without demanding satisfaction.
It was torture.
It was perfect.
"They're calmer."
Cal's voice broke the tension. He'd shifted position — still wrapped in the blanket now, but sitting up, leaning against the bed frame. The heat in the room had settled into something more manageable. Still present, but banked.
"The others," he clarified. "My pack. They're... better."
"Better how?" Neal asked. His hand was still in my hair, fingers threading through the strands absently. Like he couldn't quite make himself stop touching me.
"Less afraid. Still lost, but—" Cal struggled for words. "The gray one. He looks at me now. Really looks. Like he's trying to remember."
"That's progress," I said.
"Is it?" Cal's expression flickered. "They're still so far away. I can feel them through the pack bond, but it's like... like shouting across a canyon."
"Give it time," James said. He'd shifted too, his back against the wall, but his hand still rested on my thigh. Warm. Grounding.
"The Council gave us thirty days," Cal said. "What if it's not enough?"
"One day at a time." I reached out, took his hand. "That's all we can do."
"Speaking of figuring things out."
Neal's voice had shifted. Harder now. The doctor surfacing through the man who'd been touching my hair like he couldn't help himself.
I looked up at him.
"When did you last eat?"
The question was cold water on the heat still simmering between us. I tried to remember. Breakfast? Lunch?
"That's what I thought." Neal's jaw tightened. "And sleep?"
