Chapter 26
Vee
The woods are quiet this time of day.
I've been walking for an hour, maybe longer, just following the trails that wind through the trees behind the cabin and letting my mind drift. It's been a good day—remembering yoga with Finn yesterday, no heavy conversations, no revelations. Just existing.
But the anxiety is creeping back in because Drake is still on the couch, still recovering, still looking at me with those eyes that used to make me feel safe.
And I still don't know what happened. Don't know if they claimed Marie during her heat, don't know the details of what went down in that house while I was alone.
I don't know anything except what I saw and what I felt and the hollow ache that hasn't gone away.
I need to ask. I don't want to, because I'm terrified of the answers, but I can't keep looking at him every day and not knowing.
The cabin comes into view through the trees.
Alex and Malcolm are on the porch. Alex in one of the wooden chairs, Malcolm leaning against the railing. They look up when I emerge from the tree line.
"Good walk?" Malcolm asks.
"Yeah."
I climb the porch steps and lean against the rail a few feet from him. The silence stretches, comfortable, the kind that doesn't need filling.
Then Malcolm holds his arms out.
I stare at him. "You know we shouldn't do that."
"Why not?"
"You know why."
"We've done it before, Vee."
"That was different. I needed alpha comfort. I needed a purr."
His expression shifts, something playful and serious at once. "Why does it have to be about need? Why not just because it feels good? Why not take it because you want it?"
The question catches me off guard. I've always taken comfort when I needed it—when I was breaking down or scared or hurting. But just because I want it?
I hesitate, thinking about another time I asked for something just because I wanted it and got shut down instead. But he's the one offering.
I cross to him and settle into his lap. His huge tattooed arms cage me in and the relief is immediate, his strong coffee scent wrapping around me, his warmth seeping in.
I let myself have this, not because I need it, because I want it.
Malcolm's purr starts, rumbling through his chest into mine. I close my eyes and lean into him, and when I open them Alex is watching.
It’s right there in his face—longing, want, carefully controlled. Guilt stabs through me.
"I can—" I start.
Alex shakes his head. "It's better if we don't."
The words sting more than they should. Heat creeps up my neck and flashes of old rejection hit me before I can stop them—Ragon pulling away, Drake choosing Marie, Eli going quiet, always not enough, always wrong somehow.
Alex is out of his chair before I finish the thought.
"Verena." His voice is stone. "Don't you ever think for a second I don't want you."
I go still.
"I'm staying away because I want you." Each word deliberate, controlled. "So badly I ache with it. Every single day."
He takes a step closer and I feel Malcolm's arms tighten around me.
"You think I didn't want to bust through that door when you were in heat?
" His hands clench into fists at his sides.
"Knot you? Claim you right there with your legal pack right next door?
" His voice cracks. "The only reason I didn't was because if I had, any sliver of a chance that the registry will eventually let me keep you would be gone.
Snuffed out like a single flame. They'd never trust me again. "
He runs a hand through his hair and the controlled mask slips, just slightly, just enough.
"And right now? If I took you in my arms right this second, I'd lose whatever shred of control I'm still holding onto.
" He takes another step, close enough that I can see the tension in his face and how his pupils have gone wide.
"I'd sink my teeth into your scent gland on this porch.
Mark you. Claim you. Damn the consequences. "
My heart is hammering.
"If I ever want any hope of being your forever pack—"He stops and swallows. "If I want you to even have the ability to choose us later, I have to show restraint now. I have to prove I'm worthy of you."
The words crassh over me. My body is pulling in two directions at once, angling closer into Malcolm while simultaneously pulling toward Alex, toward the man who should be my pack lead and who is standing three feet away looking at me like I'm something precious he's terrified of breaking.
I wonder if this would be the same without the scent match. If this is the same feeling that Ragon and his pack felt for Marie. If it's something uncontrollable or something chosen. It's impossible to tell.
But I hope it's real. All of it… even though I still don't know what to do with it.
Alex sits back down slowly, like it costs him. The purr behind me steadies, Malcolm's arms haven't loosened.
Through the window I can just make out movement inside—Rhys passing through the hallway, doing whatever he does when the house is quiet. He glances out once. Takes in the three of us on the porch. Moves on. He knows what this is and he doesn't need to be part of it.
That's the thing about Rhys. He always knows what not to be part of.
"I need to talk to Drake," I say finally.
Malcolm's purr cuts off. A sharp growl rumbles out before he pushes it back down. "No."
"He can't sit on the couch forever."
"Let him sit there." His arms tighten. "He doesn't get to talk to you until you're ready."
"I am ready. I need to know what happened."
Alex speaks up. "She's right."
Malcolm turns his glare on him, but Alex holds it steadily. "She needs answers. And he's strong enough now."
"I don't give a fuck if he's strong enough—"
"Malcolm." The pack lead edge comes through, final. "Let her go."
The war in Malcolm's eyes is visible—the protectiveness, the fear of what Drake might say. Slowly, reluctantly, his arms loosen.
"I'm coming with her," he says.
"No. We'll be right here on the porch. If she needs us, we're there in seconds." Alex looks at me. "If it gets to be too much, we'll come in."
I nod and stand. My legs feel shaky.
I walk to the door like I'm headed to the executioner's block.
Drake is sitting up, not slumped against the pillows like he's been for days. He still looks too thin and too pale, but better. His eyes find me the moment I step inside.
"Vee," he says.
"We need to talk."
"Yeah. We do."
I cross to the couch and sit on the opposite end, far enough that we're not touching, close enough that I can see his face clearly. Those hazel eyes I used to love. His scent hits me—citrus and sunshine, except it isn't. It's flat and lifeless, like the brightness has been drained out of it.
From the hallway I hear a sound. Low, barely there. Rhys.
I don't look. Drake doesn't seem to notice. But the sound relaxes me. Just from knowing he's there even if he won't intervene, knowing that if something truly goes wrong the hallway is ten feet away.
"Ask me," Drake says. "Whatever you need to know."
There are so many questions, but one sits heavier than the rest.
"Did you claim Marie during her heat?"
His brows furrow like the question surprises him. He shakes his head, adamant. "No. Of course not."
"Why 'of course not'?"
"Because we weren't going to bond her in after finding out about her lie. None of us wanted that. We were only helping her through her heat because that's what alphas do. Ragon had custody of her and she needed—"
He stops. Realization crosses his face and the color drains from his cheeks.
"Vee—"
"Because that's what alphas do," I repeat. Voice flat.
"I didn't mean—" He reaches for me and I pull back. "Vee, I'm sorry. That came out wrong."
"Did you know about my heat?"
He goes very still.
"Did you know I was in heat while you were with Marie?"
"We didn't know." His voice breaks. "No. We were wrapped up in rut. The scent match pull was so strong we couldn't think past it. The pheromones in the room were too thick to smell anything else."
"But you found out."
"Not until you were gone." His hands are shaking.
"We were going to check on you. Eli surfaced first, I watched him put his clothes back on to leave.
He tried. He tried to get to you. Ragon used his alpha bark on him.
Ordered him to stay. Said that you'd be fine, you weren't in heat, they'd make it up to you after. "
"I wasn't fine."
"I know." Tears track down his face. "I know you weren't. And that's on us. On me."
"You tried to leave too?"
"Later, when I came to my senses for a minute. But the rut was still strong and Ragon—" He stops. "He wouldn't let us go."
"But you came out for snacks. We talked, remember?"
His face crumples. "I know, Vee. God, I should've stayed.
I wanted to. But it was early in her heat still, and after learning we'd violated your nest because of her lies—" He looks away, jaw working.
"I couldn't face what I'd done. So I hid.
Told myself I needed time to figure out what to say to you. It's unforgivable, I know that now."
"What about Jasper?"
"Jasper almost walked out. He asked more than once. But Ragon threatened to kick him out of the pack. Out of the house."
"But Jasper wasn't bonded to them. She didn't need that many alphas."
"It didn't matter to Ragon. He wanted to make sure Jasper was under his control. That he'd be as weak-willed as the rest of us. It was a power move. I couldn't see it then but I can now. Everything Ragon ever does is about control."
The logic is cold and clinical and the truth of it festers.
Drake's head drops. "None of it was enough. We should have tried harder."
"Yeah," I say. "You should have."
Silence falls. Heavy and suffocating.