"And me?" I asked. "Do you need me to leave?"
Juno’s hand shot out from the blanket, grabbing my wrist. His skin was burning hot.
"No," he gasped. "God, no. Don't leave. I need... I need the Anchor."
I looked at the red ink, still faintly visible on his wrist.
"Okay," I said. "I'll call them back."
I stood up and went to the door. I opened it.
Mateo and Stephen were standing in the rain, soaked to the skin, staring at the wood like they were trying to burn through it with their eyes.
"You can come in," I said.
They were inside before I finished the sentence.
They didn't swarm him. They stopped a few feet away, looking to Juno for the signal. They knew the protocol better than I did.
Juno pushed the blanket down. He sat up straighter, the strategist trying to surface through the heat. His face was flushed, his eyes wild, but his voice was steady.
"Terms," Juno said.
"Name them," Mateo rumbled.
"No softness," Juno said, looking at the Alphas. "I am not a victim. I am not a rescue case. You do not treat me like glass. You treat me likeJuno."
"Understood," Stephen said, loosening his tie.
"No recalibration," Juno continued, his gaze shifting to me. "This changes the dynamic in the bedroom. It doesnotchange the dynamic in the boardroom. When this is over, I am still the narrative lead. I am still your equal."
"Never does and you always are," Mateo grunted.
Juno let out a breath. He looked at the three of us.
"I want Rowan," he said.
He didn't look at me; he looked at the Alphas. It was a challenge. A demand.
"I want her in the circle," Juno said. "I want her skin. I want her scent mixing with ours. If we do this... we do it as the Pack we signed our names to be."
Mateo looked at me. His eyes were dark, heavy with a hunger that had nothing to do with contracts.
"She’s Beta," Mateo warned Juno. "The pheromones... it’s intense. It can be overwhelming."
"She’s durable," Juno said, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. "She handled Vance. She can handle us."
Stephen walked over to the door, checking the lock one last time. He turned back, the grey eyes focused and calm.
"We’ve been doing this for seven years, Rowan," Stephen said. "We know how to manage the heat. But bringing you in... that crosses a final line. There is no way to prepare you for this."
I looked at Juno, shivering on the couch. I looked at Mateo, waiting for permission to care for him. I looked at Stephen, knowing the risks and staying anyway.
I kicked off my heels.
"I’m sick of trying to be prepared for everything," I said.
TWENTY-FIVE
