This is what making it right looks like.
It doesn't feel righteous or noble or clean. It feels like lying to a man I love like a brother to protect a woman I love and failed. It feels like using my training—the empathy, the observation, the understanding of human weakness—as a tool of manipulation against someone who trusts me.
It feels terrible.
And I'd do it again tomorrow.
I wash the dishes. I turn off the lights, go to my room and close the door. Then I sit on the edge of my bed in the dark and wait for the next close call.
There will be another one. There always is.
Chapter 25
Vee
I wake up and make a decision.
Today I'm not going to think about the hard stuff. Not about Ragon, the registry, broken bonds, flags, or any of the rest of it. Today is a day off. I'm going to do something normal—something that has nothing to do with pack dynamics or omega politics or the mess my life has become.
I'm going to learn yoga.
I pull on leggings and a t-shirt and pad downstairs barefoot into the early morning light.
Drake is on the couch. He's sitting up this time, barely, propped against the arm with pillows behind him. His face is still pale and drawn but he's upright, which is more than he's been the past few days. He’s definitely looking better.
Finn is at the kitchen table with his laptop, messy hair all over the place. He looks up when I come in and says good morning.
Rhys is at the window. Just standing there, one shoulder against the frame, looking out at the tree line with a mug of something in his hand. He turns when he hears me on the stairs and his expression does the thing it does when I appear—not quite a smile, but the particular settling of his features that I've learned to read as one.
"Where's Malcolm and Alex?" I ask Finn.
"Work. Some issue with a client that couldn't wait." He grimaces. "Malcolm was not happy about leaving. Alex dragged him out anyway."
So it's the four of us.
I glance at Drake. He's watching me with wary eyes, tracking my movement across the room like he's been doing since he woke up. I cross to the couch.
"You look terrible," I say.
His mouth twitches. "Thanks."
"When's the last time you showered?"
"I don't know. Two days? Three?"
"You need to shower." I hold out my hand. He stares at it then takes it, his grip weak but present, and together we get him vertical. He sways and I steady him with a hand on his chest, his heart beating fast and unsteady under my palm.
"Come on," I say. "Bathroom."
I guide him down the hall and leave him there with clean clothes Alex left on the sink. When I come back, Finn is watching me with an expression I can't quite read.
"He doesn't deserve that," Finn says.
"He's sick," I say. "And watching someone suffer without doing anything makes me too much like them." Finn's expression softens and he doesn't push back.
Behind me, I hear Rhys set his mug down on the counter. Not loudly. But deliberately.
I look at him.
