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“I’ve said your name four times,” he hisses back. “What the hell is wrong with you this morning?”

I check to make sure my side of the Bond is shut down tight. The last thing I need is to broadcast my spiral.

“Nothing,” I lie, ignoring his dubious frown.

“Then explain why you’re staring at that pile of hair like it just insulted your mother.”

Thankfully, I don’t have to come up with a reply. While I’ve been having a crisis of conscience, it seems Idril’s been single-handedly talking both of her Mates off the ledge.

Five days ago, I would have rolled my eyes at how quickly an Omega could manipulate the emotions of two massive Alphas. But now… now I’m starting to wonder if maybe it’s just because she’s… her.

“How long have you been experiencing hair loss?” Calder asks.

Idril shrugs. “A few months. But it got a lot worse the last few weeks.” Soren’s eyes flash bright green, and a growl rumbles in his chest.

Idril glances back at him over her shoulder and gives him a gentle smile. “I promise, it’s not that big of a deal. It’s not even very noticeable.”

“Have you noticed any fatigue? Bruising?” Calder asks, and when she shakes her head, he lifts a brow and pointedly drops his gaze to her arms.

There’s no hiding the purple, green, and yellow marks littering her pale flesh. There aren’t a lot, but even one is too many.

“Those are just from cleaning,” she murmurs, crossing her arms like that will hide them, like it’ll erase them from existence. “I’ve always bruised easily.”

From cleaning. She bruised from cleaning.

“Did someone put their hands on you here?” Caelan’s tone is deadlier than I’ve ever heard. He’s asking Idril, but he’s looking across the table—at me. At Vae.

For a second, I wonder what Idril will tell him. Will she tell him the truth, or will she lie? Maybe she’ll decide this is the perfect way to get revenge for the way she’s been treated.

Would I even blame her if she did?

Something in my gut tells me that the thought of lying never even crosses Idril’s mind. And when she follows Caelan’s glare and realizes who it’s aimed at, her lips part in shock.

“No! Fates! No… no one hurt me.”

When Caelan and Soren both scoff, she winces. “Not like that.”

Not like that.

Because we did hurt her.

I hurt her.

I hurt her, and I kept hurting her, and holy fuck… I don’t even fucking know who I am anymore.

Fates, why? Why did I do those things? How the fuck did I get it so godsdamned wrong?

A pained sound comes from Vae. He’s bitten his nails down to nothing. Normally, I’d reach over and smack his hand out of his mouth, but I can’t move.

I can’t fucking breathe.

I know things are really bad when Calder’s voice gentles. “Have you ever lost significant chunks of time and have no recollection of the time you’ve lost?”

Sitting up straighter, I lean in, waiting for her answer. I know for a fact it’s happened a few times, but I also dismissed those moments as learned behavior.

No, that’s wrong.

I think back to that moment in the library. The memory is crystal clear—my accusations, the way her gaze fell to the lit fire in the hearth. By the time I noticed something was wrong, her eyes were blank—aside from the reflection of a single flickering flame.