"You took out the flour container, the banana bowl, and two measuring cups this morning," I say. "Without trying."
"The kitchen is poorly designed."
Finn makes a sound into his wine.
"Something with land," I say. "I want a garden. A real one, not just tomatoes in pots." I think about it. "Space. Trees maybe. Somewhere that feels like—somewhere that feels like it belongs to us."
"Somewhere with a kitchen that can accommodate all skill levels," Finn says. He glances at all three alphas. "And all sizes."
"The kitchen is poorly designed," Rhys repeats.
"We'll find somewhere good," Alex says. He's looking at me with that quiet expression. "We have time to figure it out right."
"Chase will probably want us out of here once the flag situation is resolved," Malcolm says. "Whenever that is."
"It'll happen," I say. I mean it. "Chase isn't going to stop pushing on it."
"No," Alex agrees. "He won't."
We sit with that. The flag. The last obstacle between almost and completely. Between chosen and claimed.
It's not tonight's problem. Tonight we have wine and pasta and the warm noise of five people planning a future.
That's enough.
After dinner, while we're still at the table with the last of the wine and the bread nobody finished, I set my glass down.
"I have something serious I want to talk about," I say.
The table shifts. It isn’t dramatic. Just a subtle shift in posture, five bodies tensing slightly as the mood changes.
"I need to see Ragon," I say. "One more time."
Silence.
Then everyone talks at once.
"Absolutely not," Malcolm says.
"Vee—" Finn starts.
"No." This from Rhys. Flat and final.
Alex doesn't say anything. He just looks at me thoughtfully.
"Let me finish," I say.
They let me finish. Mostly.
"I need closure. Real closure, not the kind I give myself by processing it alone. I need to look him in the eyes and tell him what he did to me. I need to know whether he actually understands it." I look around the table. "I've forgiven Drake and Eli. I said what I needed to say to Jasper. Ragon is the only one I haven't faced directly. And I don't want to spend the rest of my life wondering if he knows. If he really, truly understands what he cost me."
"He knows," Malcolm says. "The registry made sure he knows."
"The registry told him what he did wrong. That's different from hearing it from me." I hold his gaze. "I need to say it to his face. I need him to hear it from me."
Malcolm looks away. His jaw is tight.
"She's right," Alex says.
