I don't know how to hold all of it at once without breaking.
***
Ragon is pacing when I find him later, phone to his ear, free hand gesturing at no one.
"I understand the legal precedent. What I'm asking is if there's any way to challenge it based on—" He stops. Listens. His jaw clenches. "Fine. I'll call back tomorrow."
He throws the phone onto the couch. It bounces and hits the floor.
"Still no luck?" I ask from the doorway.
He turns. "Every lawyer says the same thing. Heat abandonment automatically terminates custody. I asked them hypothetically.”
"Maybe that's your answer."
His eyes narrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"The law is telling you she's not yours anymore. Maybe you should listen."
"She’s been my omega for five years, Drake." His voice rises. "Five years. And that fucking pack thinks they can just take her because of some biological—"
Rage hits, clean and final.
"Youromega?" The words cut. "When was she ever yours?"
His head jerks back.
"You never bonded her, never claimed her. You kept her in a state of permanent maybe for five years while you waited for something better." The words come out unstoppable. "Then Marie showed up and you threw Vee away like she was nothing."
"I didn't throw her away." His voice goes tight. "I know I fucked up."
"You left her alone while you were with your scent match. She was in pain while we were too deep in rut to hear her. And when we tried to leave the room you wouldn't let us."
His face goes dark. "Watch yourself."
"She was in heat, Ragon. And none of us could hear her because we were too busy with Marie. Because the scent match made us forget everyone else."
He takes a step toward me. "You think I don't know that? You think I don't carry that?"
"I think you're more sorry you lost her than you are about what you did to her." I hold my ground. "I think you want her back so you can feel better about yourself. So you can prove you're still in control. But you don't actually want to make it right. You want to win."
"That's enough." Low. Dangerous.
"You've spent three days on the phone with lawyers. Not once have you asked if she's happy or if she's better off without us."
"She belongs here."
"She belonged here. Past tense. And you threw that away the second Marie walked through the door."
"You don't understand what it was like. The pull, the need—itconsumedme. I'm lead. I'm more dominant. I couldn't—"
"I felt it too." The words taste bitter. "We all did. We all made the same choice. Weallfailed her."
His eyes flash. "Then why are you acting like you're better than me?"
"I'm not." It costs me to say it. "I'm as guilty as you, but at least I can admit it. At least I'm not pretending this is about anything other than my own ego."
Silence.
