Elias says nothing. But I feel him watching from the kitchen doorway, his dark eyes tracking my movement up the stairs.
I reach the blue room and step inside.
The softness hits me all over again. The blankets. The pillows. The comfort of a space built specifically for me. I run my hand across the nearest pillow, and the fabric yields beneath my fingers as if it were made for this exact pressure.
This room exists because they planned for me to have a permanent place in their lives.
The truth of it settles into my chest with a weight that makes my breath catch. I stand at the edge of the bed with my hand on the blanket and my throat tight and my eyes burning, and the only thing I want in this entire world is to not be alone with the feeling.
I turn toward the doorway.
Elias is there.
I hadn't heard him approach. He's standing in the doorway with his hands loose at his sides, his expression calm and waiting.
He doesn't push me to explain what's going on. He just looks at me, his dark green eyes locked on mine.
Something in his unwavering calm makes my chest tighten, and the emotions I've been holding back all evening threaten to break free.
“Would you stay?” I ask.
The words come out quieter than I mean them to, vulnerable in a way that has nothing to do with romance and everything to do with wanting comfort from someone I trust.
“Tonight. Would you stay with me? I just—” I stop. Swallow and try again. “I don’t want to be alone right now.”
Elias doesn't move for one long second. The request seems to catch him completely off guard. His entire body stills in the doorway, his gaze fixed on mine. Then something softens in his expression.
He nods once. “Yes,” he says immediately, like it's the easiest answer he's ever given.
Behind him, in the hallway, I catch the shift in the air before I see them. Adrian and Bash, drawn by the silence or the shift in scent or simply the particular gravity of the moment. They appear in the doorway behind Elias, their faces doing complicated things I don’t have the energy to decode.
Adrian recovers first. His expression shifts from surprise to relief so quickly it’s almost comical.
“I think that’s a great idea,” he says. His voice is gentle. Completely free of the possessiveness or jealousy I’ve been braced for since this dynamic began. “Really good. You should both get some rest.”
Bash nods. His blue eyes find mine, and the teasing edge I’m used to has been replaced by something softer. “Whatever you need,” he says. “Whenever you need it. That’s the whole point of this.”
They don't try to insert themselves into the moment or ask why I chose Elias and not them. They simply accept my choice with grace.
“Goodnight,” Adrian says. He touches Elias’s shoulder briefly as he passes, a gesture of solidarity so casual it barely registers. Bash follows, sending me a small smile, and then they’re gone, their footsteps fading down the hallway toward the other end of the house.
Elias steps into the room and closes the door softly behind him.
I expect awkwardness. The kind that comes from being alone with an alpha while my heat looms closer with every passing day.
What I get instead is a deep sense of calm.
Elias moves into the room and adjusts the lamp, dimming it further until the room settles into soft shadow. He rearranges the blankets on one side of the bed. He removes his boots and sets them neatly beside the dresser. His movements are unhurried and completely free of the tension I’ve been carrying in my own body for days.
I sit on the edge of the bed and watch him. My hands are shaking slightly, and I don’t try to hide them.
“You’ve had a long day,” he says. Not a question. A fact, delivered in his particular way: clean, precise, stripped of anything that isn’t necessary.
“Yeah.” My voice comes out rough. “A really long fucking day.”
He nods once. Doesn’t try to fix it or shrink it or polish it into a lesson. He just lets it sit there in the room with us, heavy and real, and somehow that makes it easier to breathe.
I should say something useful. About the production. About James Chen. About the career I’ve built with my own two hands and the way they handed it back to me with strings I never agreed to. About the fear sitting in my chest that this is only the beginning of doors closing.
