"Please." She's crying now, full and desperate. It goes through me like a sharp knife. "Please, it hurts. I need you."
"I know." I keep tracing. Keep moving. Give her the only thing I can give her right now. "When this is over. When you can think clearly. I will explain everything. I promise."
"I can think now."
"No, you can't." Gentle. Certain. "And I won't take advantage of that."
She sobs.
The heat is burning through her and I am on the other side of a door. But I won't open it and I am fully aware of what that costs her right now. I carry that. I'll carry it after. But I won't move.
I hear footsteps behind her. Malcolm's voice, low and soothing.
"Come back to bed." His purr starts up. "Let me help you."
"I want Alex." Her grip on my fingers goes fierce. The words break apart on their way out. "I want Alex."
"I know." Malcolm's voice is careful. Patient. "But he can't right now."
Her fingers tighten around mine for one more second.
Then Malcolm lifts her and she has to let go. I feel her grip fight it before distance takes over. My fingers stay in the gap until there's nothing to hold.
I watch her shadow disappear from under the door.
***
I don't know how long I’ve been sitting there before I hear the noise.
I'm on my feet and down the stairs before the knock comes, taking the steps three at a time, my shoulder clipping the wall as I round the landing. My body shifts—spine straightening, shoulders squaring—battle-ready before my mind catches up. The first pound against the wood sends a shot of adrenaline through me that sharpens everything to crystal clarity. I can already smell him through the door—pine smoke and the edge of an alpha still coming down off rut. Jagged around the edges. Not thinking clearly.
I open the door before he can take it off the hinges.
Ragon.
He looks terrible. Same brown hair, disheveled now, same broad build. But his expression is barely contained. I recognize it because I've spent years learning to manage the same thing in myself.
He tries to push past me before I've fully opened the door.
I put my hand flat against his chest and stop him.
He's bigger than me. It doesn't matter.
Dominance has never been about size. It's about who flinches first. Who believes in themselves more completely in the moment it counts.
I don't flinch.
"You're not coming in."
"Where is she." Not a question. His eyes are scanning the space behind me like he can find her by looking hard enough.
"Safe."
"She's mine—"
Footsteps on the stairs. Malcolm's scent arrives before he does—coffee sharpening fast into protective and furious. Hesteps up behind my shoulder, still shirtless, and the energy coming off him is barely leashed.
I don't look back at him. I move my hand slightly.I have this.
