Chapter 24
TWENTY-FOUR
SOL
I should leave.
I know that. Rationally. Practically. This isn’t my place to hover. She’s asleep, finally – deep, even breaths, her body slack with the kind of exhaustion that only comes after everything gives out at once.
But my feet won’t move.
I sit in the armchair in the corner of the room, facing the bed instead, elbows braced on my knees, watching the rise and fall of her chest like it’s the only thing anchoring me to the room.
She’s curled on her side in my t-shirt, swallowed by it, one hand fisted into the fabric at her collarbone like she anchored herself there without meaning to.
She looks younger like this.
Smaller.
Not fragile exactly, but worn thin. Like she’s been running on fumes for longer than she’ll ever admit.
My jaw tightens.
I shouldn’t be here.
I reach out anyway.
Not touching. Just hovering. Like if I don’t break the plane of her skin, I can pretend this is still neutral. Still safe.
My eyes drag back to her neck.
The bite. Darker than it should be. Not inflamed exactly – no angry swelling, no obvious infection – but wrong. The skin around it looks bruised, shadowed, like the mark has sunk deeper instead of fading. Claim bites heal fast. Even partial ones should have closed by now.
This hasn’t.
My throat tightens.
I know that mark.
I know the curve of it. The angle. The place my teeth sank in when instinct roared louder than sense.
Fuck.
It has to be mine.
There’s no other explanation that doesn’t make me feel worse.
She was the beta from the app. She has to be. But betas don’t get claimed. Betas don’t bond. Betas don’t—
I cut the thought off hard, even as my chest aches.
She stirs faintly, a soft sound slipping from her throat, and I freeze, heart hammering, waiting to see if she wakes.
She doesn’t.
I exhale slowly through my nose, forcing my body back under control.
She’s sick.
That’s the variable. That’s what’s wrong. Maybe her body’s fighting something. Maybe her system’s overloaded. Maybe that’s why the bite hasn’t healed properly. Maybe the sickness is preventing the bite from closing.
Not the other way around.
That has to be it.
I stand carefully, chair legs barely whispering against the floor, and step back from the bed like distance might give me clarity instead of making everything worse.
I’ll figure this out.
I just…need space to think.
I close the bedroom door quietly and head downstairs.
Laughter greets me halfway down. Too loud. Too careless. Kai’s voice, unmistakable, followed by Koa’s lower reply.
My jaw clenches.
“Keep it the fuck down,” I hiss over the bannister.
They both look up.
Kai blinks. “Jesus, what crawled up your—”
“She’s asleep,” I cut in.
“Who? You finally got your dick wet, brother?”
“No, you prick. Lani. She’s sick.”
That wipes the smirk off his face instantly.
Koa straightens. “She’s worse?”
“Bad enough that she’s staying here,” I say flatly. “So unless one of you wants to explain why you’re stomping around like it’s happy hour, I suggest you shut up.”
Silence.
Then, quieter, Kai says, “Does Finn know you stole his girl?”
His girl? I don’t think so!
“I didn’t steal her, but…yes.”
Koa nods slowly. “Okay.”
They back off without arguing, voices dropping immediately.
I exhale, tension still coiled tight in my chest.
When I turn back toward the stairs, my gaze flicks up instinctively – back to the room where she’s sleeping in my bed, wrapped in my scent, marked by my teeth.
Whatever this is…it started with me. And whether I understand it yet or not, I’m not walking away from it.
Not now.
Not when she looks like that.