I sit. Ragon sits.
We look at each other across the table.
"I didn't think you'd come," he says.
"I needed to," I say.
He nods. Looks at his hands. "I've been thinking about what to say to you since the hearing. I have a whole speech, I think. I've run through it so many times." He pauses. "I don't know if any of it is enough."
"It probably isn't," I say honestly.
He nods again.
"I failed you," he says. "I know that. I know it in every specific way that it happened. The nest, your heat, how I handled Marie, the favoritism. Every way I let you down. I've catalogued all of it." His voice is even and controlled. The pack lead voice, the one that always sounded so certain. It sounds smaller now. "I know what I did."
I look at him.
"You know what the registry told you," I say. "You know the list of violations. The documented incidents. What you did and saw and felt yourself." I pause. "But I don't think you know the worst thing."
He meets my eyes.
"The worst thing you ever did to me," I say, "wasn't anything that happened after Marie arrived."
He goes very still.
"It was the condition," I say. "Five years. That was what you asked of me. You sat across from me in a room not unlike this one and you told me you'd take me, but conditionally. That I could love you and build my whole life around you and your pack, but I should know I was temporary until proven otherwise." I hold his gaze. "And then you spent years with me. You told me you loved me."
He doesn't speak.
"You told me you loved me while that condition was still in place," I continue. "Forfiveyears. You'd kiss me and hold me and make me feel like I mattered and then you'd file me back under maybe and go looking for something better." I soundsteady. I feel the truth of every word without the rage that used to come with it. "That's not love, Ragon. It never was."
The silence in the room is complete.
He looks like a man absorbing a blow he knew was coming and found out didn't hurt less for the knowing.
"I know," he says finally. His voice has gone rough. "I know it wasn't. I told myself it was—I believed it while I was doing it, or I made myself believe it. But you're right." He exhales. "I offered you conditional love and called it care. And you said yes because you needed somewhere to land." He shakes his head. "I knew that. I knew exactly how desperate you were. I used that and I called it a promise."
"Yes," I say. "You did."
Another silence.
"I'm sorry," he says. "I know that's not enough."
"It's not," I agree. "But I believe you mean it."
He looks at me with this expression that I think might be the closest thing to relief he's going to feel for a long time. Not absolution. Just being seen clearly and not hated for it.
"I forgive you," I say. "I want you to know that. Not because you've earned it—you haven't, not yet. But because I'm done carrying it." I hold his gaze. "I forgive you for me. And I hope you figure out who you are without a pack to lead. I hope you find your way back to the man you were before all of this."
He closes his eyes briefly.
"Are you happy?" he asks. His voice is barely above a whisper. "With them?"
"Yes," I say.
He nods.
I stand.
