Chapter 17 #2
She doesn't look up.
She's too far gone into terror.
Eli grabs my arm.
"Stay back."
"I didn't—" I stammer. "I didn't see what happened. I don't understand what happened."
"I know. Later, Vee. Focus."
Below, the keeper manages to trigger some kind of protocol. A loud buzzer sounds. A secondary gate starts to grind closed, slowly separating Luka from Marie.
He roars again, angry now at being herded.
Ragon and Drake appear on the lower level, having cut through behind the scenes. They sprint across the ground toward Marie, Jasper flanking, all three of them sending out waves of scent—dominance and protection and mine.
Marie sobs harder when she sees them.
She tries to scramble toward them and slips, crying out as her ankle twists.
"Don't move!" Jasper barks, his voice cracking with command. Even Luka flinches back.
The gate between gorilla and fallen omega is only halfway closed.
Luka feints.
Charges forward two massive steps, beating his chest.
The sound that rips out of Ragon is not human.
He throws himself between Marie and the gorilla without hesitation, arms spread, scent punching out in a tidal wave of alpha fury.
Drake is half a step behind, dropping into a low, ready crouch like he's about to take on a several-hundred-pound primate with his bare hands. Jasper angles toward the control panel, snapping orders at a staff member.
For a second, it looks like Luka's going to challenge.
Then he stops, snorts, and retreats a few yards, glaring.
The gate shudders its way closed.
Once the barrier is solid, the world exhales.
Ragon drops to one knee beside Marie so fast his jeans rip. He cups her face in both hands, scanning for injuries.
"Where are you hurt? Can you move? Can you breathe?"
"I'm—" She hiccups. "My ankle— and my back— I fell—"
"I saw. We've got you."
Drake is on her other side, hands hovering. "Jesus, Marie. You scared ten years off my life."
Jasper stands over them like a dark sentinel, eyes scanning for any remaining threat.
Security floods the area. Keepers. Managers. A guy with a first aid kit. A supervisor shouting about lockdown protocols and "how the hell did she get over the railing."
Guests are being herded back. Kids cry. Someone videos anyway.
From up here, my body is nothing but adrenaline and nausea.
"Vee." Eli's voice cuts through the roar. "Sit down."
"I'm fine."
"You're shaking."
I look down.
He's right.
My hands are trembling so hard my fingers blur.
He pulls me gently to the side, out of the main crush, and steers me to a bench. I sit because my knees are suddenly unreliable.
Below, Ragon gathers Marie up in his arms, cradling her against his chest as if she weighs nothing. She clings to him, sobbing into his neck.
Her scent is terror and pain and something else.
Something hot and seething.
Security escorts the alphas and Marie out of the enclosure area and back up through a staff corridor. Eli keeps one hand on my shoulder, grounding me as we watch them disappear.
"We're leaving. Stay with me."
I nod, numb.
The next ten minutes are a messy blur.
Zoo staff check that we're "okay." Someone thrusts a free drink voucher into my hand like that will help. People gawk. A child loudly asks, "Why is that lady crying," and his mother shushes him.
We regroup near the exit.
Marie is in a wheelchair now, ankles wrapped in a temporary brace, arm cleaned and bandaged. The staff insisted. Ragon pushes her, jaw set. Drake walks beside them, hovering. Jasper trails like a shadow.
Her eyes are swollen from crying. She looks fragile and shaken.
I am concerned.
I am also scared.
Not of gorillas.
Of what happens next.
On the way to the parking lot, she keeps glancing back at me.
Not with gratitude.
With something that looks an awful lot like fury.
We barely clear the gates before it happens.
"Ragon," Marie whispers, voice raw.
He leans down instantly. "What is it? Are you dizzy? Do you need to sit still a while before we get to the car?"
She swallows, tears welling again. "I— I have to tell you something. About what happened."
His entire body focuses. "What?"
Drake moves closer. Eli squeezes my shoulder. Jasper's attention sharpens to a knife-edge.
Marie's eyes flick to me, then away, as if looking hurts. "I was just watching the show. The zookeeper. And then I went to look at the gorillas and Vee was behind me and then she—"
She chokes, sobbing.
"She what?" Ragon demands, voice like iron.
"She pushed me. I didn't just fall. She pushed me. I felt her hands on my back and then I was falling."
The revelation struck with the force of a punch to the gut.
My breath leaves my body.
Everyone stares at me.
"No," I say, immediately, voice shaking. "No, I didn't. I didn't touch you."
Marie sobs harder. "You were right there. Right behind me. I felt it. I swear. I didn't move. I was just standing there and then—"
"I didn't push you," I say again, louder. My heart is hammering so hard my vision pulses.
Ragon's eyes are on me now, blue gone dark.
"You were the only one close enough," Marie says, tears streaming. "You've been so angry with me. I thought— I thought you were just— but then you looked at me so—"
Drake's face is a mess—shock, disbelief, horror. "Vee? What the hell happened? You were right there."
"I know where I was. I was beside her. Not touching. People were moving. Someone bumped me from behind. I didn't push her. I swear to God!"
"Then how did she go over?" Drake yells. "She wouldn't have just walked off the edge!"
"Crowd surge," Eli says quickly. "She could've been jostled. Someone could've bumped both of them. We were packed in pretty tight. Vee's not—" His jaw works. "She wouldn't."
Thank you, I think wildly. Thank you.
Ragon's scent is a storm.
His hand clenches so hard on the wheelchair handle the plastic creaks.
"Everyone calm down," Jasper says, tone like a snapped chalk line. "We are outside. There are witnesses. Cameras. Wild accusations will not help anyone."
"Ask them," I beg, words pouring out. "Ask the staff to pull the camera footage. The gorilla exhibit is loaded with security cameras. We were right near the stage—someone's phone has video. It'll show what happened. I didn't—" My throat tightens. "I didn't do this."
Marie shakes her head, sobbing. "I know what I felt. Her hands on my back. Shoving. She's wanted me gone since the day I showed up."
"I didn't," I whisper, helpless. "I swear. I swear on— I wouldn't risk you like that. Not even at my angriest. You're pack."
Her gaze slams into mine.
For a second, I see something like doubt flicker there.
Then it hardens.
"You hate me. You said the other day you wish I'd never come. You called me a spare. You said you wish they'd never—"
"I said I felt spare," I correct, desperate. "I was talking about me. Not you. I would never— Marie, look at me. Look at me."
She looks away.
Ragon's jaw is grinding like he's chewing gravel.
"Enough. We are not standing in a parking lot dissecting this."
"We should," Eli says, temper fraying. "We should ask for the footage right now. The staff were already calling security. They'll have logs."
"Later," Ragon snaps. "Right now, our scent match nearly died, and we need to get her home and checked properly."
Our scent match.
The phrase rings.
"I didn't push her," I say again, because maybe if I repeat it enough times, reality will rearrange itself.
Ragon turns his gaze on me.
It's like looking into a storm.
"Get in the car."
The words are flat. No room for argument.
"Ragon—"
"Get. In. The. Car."
His scent hits me like a wall—fury and fear and leftover adrenaline.
My omega folds under it, instincts cowering.
My chest aches.
"I didn't," I whisper, one last time. "Please. I didn't do this."
He closes his eyes for a heartbeat.
When he opens them, they're colder.
"We'll talk at home."
He doesn't say I believe you.
He doesn't say anything close.
That's almost worse than if he'd called me a liar outright.
Drake gently takes over pushing the wheelchair, murmuring to Marie. She sobs into her hands. Jasper moves to flank, silent and watchful. Eli squeezes my shoulder, his own scent a mess of anger and worry.
"We'll get the footage. If the zoo doesn't volunteer it, I'll go through channels. This isn't going to just stand."
I nod, throat too tight to answer.
We reach the SUV.
Ragon gets Marie settled in the backseat, Eli sliding in beside her to brace her leg. Drake takes the other side, crowding close, whispering apologies into her hair. Jasper climbs into the third row.
I end up in the front passenger seat, because where else is there for the possibly attempted-murderess omega to sit?
I stare straight ahead as Ragon starts the engine.
The drive out of the zoo parking lot is silent.
The air in the cab is thick with Marie's soft sniffling and the rustle of someone handing her tissues. Drake's murmur: "It's okay. You're okay. We've got you." Eli's quieter reassurance: "We'll get your ankle x-rayed. Just to be safe."
No one talks to me.
My heart is a frantic bird in my chest.
Ragon's hands grip the steering wheel tightly enough that his knuckles are white. His scent is still seething. Anger. Fear. Protective rage with nowhere to go.
Me.
He's not broadcasting command at me.
He doesn't need to.
Every inch of his body says barely contained.
My mind runs in useless loops.
Ask for the footage.
Make him stop at the office.
Tell him to turn around.
But the thought of saying anything, of poking at that coiled fury while we're enclosed in a moving vehicle, makes my stomach twist.
I sit very still, hands in my lap, nails biting crescents into my palms.
My brain knows I didn't touch her.
My omega knows my alpha doesn't believe me.
Both truths hurt in different flavors.
The city blurs past outside.
With every mile, my dread grows.
Ragon angry is a spectrum.
I've had the kneeling version. The "you crossed a line, I'll make sure you remember where it is" version.
This feels different.
Deeper.
Like he almost lost something precious and his entire system is looking for an outlet.
He keeps clenching his jaw like he's fighting himself.
His scent keeps spiking down into something darker and then pulling back, like a tide trying not to become a tsunami.
"Ragon," Eli says quietly from the back at one point.
Ragon's grip tightens. "Not now."
That's it.
No yelling.
No lecture.
Just that low, simmering tone that says the real storm is waiting at the end of the drive.
I press my forehead to the cool glass of the passenger window and count my breaths.
One.
Two.
Three.
I didn't push her.
He doesn't believe me.
I have no idea what kind of punishment you get for almost killing a scent match you didn't actually touch.
But I know, bone-deep, that by the time we pull into the driveway, my life is going to be very different—whether the cameras ever clear my name or not.