He doesn’t answer right away. His jaw is tense, almost like he’s bracing for what he knows is coming.
I wait, mug warming my hands, the silence stretching between us.
When he finally speaks, he’s careful. “The first time you scented us was our true markers. It was muted enough by blockers that you wouldn’t imprint, but there enough to smell. Later, we picked up a different kind of blocker. Those were engineered to match Ragon’s packs’ scent. Finn got them. The registry uses them sometimes to help traumatized omegas. He thought it might help you feel more at home with us, not… out of place.”
I stare at the trees. That makes sense. It hurts, a little, but it makes sense.
“It worked,” I say softly. “It was easier to be around you when you reminded me of what I was losing. Like I had another door to them.”
He nods. “That was the idea.”
“It was manipulation,” I say dryly. “You know that, right?”
“I do, Vee. We all know that and we aren’t proud of it.” He sighs and leans forward. “But it wasn’t malicious. We saw how much pain you were underneath all the silence and we were willing to do anything to help. Anything to ease your suffering until we could get you out.”
I let it soak in, unsure how to feel. It’s hard to be angry at people who did bad things for good reasons. It’s also hardnotto be angry. But I’m tired of being mad and sad and confused. I just want peace.
"That's enough for now," I say finally.
"Yeah?"
"I'll ask more later. There's a limit to how much I can hold at once."
He nods. "That's smart."
We go quiet.
The bird calls again from somewhere in the trees. Farther away now, or maybe just moving. The coffee has gone lukewarm in my hands.
I pull the shirt collar up to my nose one more time. Hold the strange, layered scent there. Burnt wood. Ash. Deep and sharp and somehow exactly right.
Alex watches me do it. He doesn't comment.
Six inches lay between our hands on the chair arms.
Neither of us closes them.
Neither pulls away.
The woods stretch out ahead of us. Quiet and green and full of things I can't see yet.
I stay anyway.
Chapter 7
Jasper
Chase's office at the registry isn't much to look at.
It’s small but functional. There’s a desk buried under case files and bookshelves crammed with regulatory manuals and precedent documentation. A single window that looks out at the parking lot.
It's the kind of space that says this person does real work instead of pushing paper.
I've been here before. Too many times.
But today feels different.
Arden is already there when I walk in.
