Chapter 2 #3
"We are not sending you away," Eli repeats. "Not now. Not ever."
My laugh breaks on a sob. "That's what the last pack said."
Silence slams down.
I rarely talk about them. About being handed a suitcase and a check and an apology. About the way their scents turned from warm to distant overnight.
"I am not them," Ragon says. Each word is sharp enough to cut.
"Then stop sounding like them. Is she pretty?" The question bursts out before I can stop it. Petty. Small. So human it hurts.
Drake freezes. "That's not—"
"Answer me."
His shoulders sag. "She's… yeah. She's pretty. Dark hair, blue eyes. She's soft. Scared. Sweet."
All the things an alpha wants to protect.
"Is she younger than me?"
Ragon's eyes narrow. "Vee."
"Answer."
Eli winces. "A few years."
"Of course she is. New and shiny. Unbroken."
Drake's breath shudders. "Don't say that about yourself."
"Why not? It's true, isn't it? I'm the secondhand omega. The one someone else already returned."
Eli moves so fast I barely track it—he's on his knees in front of me, hands braced on my thighs, green eyes blazing behind his glasses. "We never thought that. Not once. You are not some leftover consolation prize."
"Then what am I? Because clearly I'm not the scent match. I’m never the scent match."
He closes his eyes. When he opens them again, they're wet.
"You're Vee. You're the omega who makes this house feel alive. Who leaves hair ties everywhere and makes sure we eat more than takeout. You're the reason Drake stopped sleeping at the hospital and the reason Ragon stopped volunteering for triple shifts."
"Enough," Ragon grinds out.
Eli looks back at him, jaw tight. "She thinks we see her as disposable."
"You are not disposable," Ragon says, looking at me.
"Funny. Feels like it."
His scent spikes—frustration layered over something that might be grief. "We do not control what our instincts do when they meet a scent match. If any of us could choose, we wouldn't be sitting here hurting you."
"You're hurting me. As if you're the victims."
His eyes flash. "Do not twist my words."
"I'm not twisting anything! You're telling me there's another omega, one your instincts like better, and I have to what—help you decorate her room? Make her cookies?"
Ragon's voice drops dangerous and low. "You will be civil to her."
Something in me rebels.
"No. I will not promise that."
His scent flares, dominance whipping through the room. Drake straightens. Eli sucks in a breath.
"Careful," Drake murmurs.
"Careful? Is my heartbreak inconvenient? Is it making the transition harder?"
"Vee," Drake says, wounded. "That's not fair."
"None of this is fair!"
Ragon leans back slowly, controlling himself. When he speaks, his voice is iron wrapped in velvet.
"You will not take this out on Marie. She didn’t ask for this. She's an omega. Like you. Scared. Confused. If you lash out at her because you are hurt, you will answer to me."
My instincts cower. My rational mind screams.
"So I'm supposed to swallow it. Smile and be the good omega who welcomes the new girl."
Drake's face crumples. "Vee—"
"This feels like you picked her, and now you're keeping me around as a spare."
Drake looks like he's going to be sick. "We're trying to do this in a way that doesn't destroy you."
"Too late."
Ragon pinches the bridge of his nose. For a moment he looks tired. Truly tired.
"Listen to me. We have a plan. It's not perfect, but we've thought this through carefully."
I stare at him through blurred vision.
"We have three alphas," he says. "Most packs with two omegas have at least four. We know if we bring Marie in without compensating for the power imbalance, it will be unfair to both of you."
"So you're getting another alpha. Like picking up milk."
"We've been interviewing," Eli says quietly. "Carefully. We've turned people down."
"His name is Jasper," Drake adds. "We've met with him. He's good. He said he'd only join if he felt he could protect both omegas equally."
The word protect slides under my ribs.
"So you've been meeting Marie and interviewing Jasper. Planning to bring them both. And you're telling me now."
"Yes," Ragon says. No apology.
"Why now? Because you bought me blankets and felt guilty?"
Drake makes a wounded sound. "That's not what today was."
"Wasn't it? One last perfect day before everything changes?"
"Let me explain the plan," Ragon says, "and you'll understand."
I wait, trembling.
"We're going to bring Marie home. We're going to mark her and bond her officially into this pack first."
"And I watch," I say bitterly.
"And then," he continues, ignoring my interruption, "once Marie is marked and bonded, once that connection is secure, we're going to bond you too."
I blink. "What?"
"You won't have to wait anymore," he says. "No more five-year deadline. No more uncertainty. You'll be permanently bonded into this pack just like her. Marked. Official. Ours."
My brain struggles to process. "But you said—five years ago you said if you bonded a non-match first, you'd lose the scent match possibility forever."
"Correct," Ragon says evenly. "If we bonded you first, the scent match door closes. We could never bond Marie, and our instincts would suffer. But if we bond the scent match first, the pack structure still allows us to bond additional omegas after. You can both be ours. Permanently."
"The bonding order matters," Eli adds gently. "Scent match first preserves the biological connection while still allowing the pack to expand."
Drake leans forward. "You'll both be ours, Vee. Officially. Marked and bonded. No more waiting. Both of you will be pack."
"And Jasper?"
"We're bond him in officially after Marie," Ragon says.
"That's important. If we bonded him before her, there's a chance he could end up scent-matched to her too—the timing of pack bonds can affect compatibility.
But if we bring him in after she's already bonded, he'll be connected to the pack as a whole, not specifically to her. "
Understanding crashes over me. "So I'll have at least one alpha who isn't pulled to her."
"Who isn't biologically pulled to her first," Ragon finishes. "Yes. He'll be on even ground. Not scent-matched to either of you, bonded to the whole pack. It's the fairest way we could structure this."
"Marie gets three alphas who are scent-matched to her, and I get one who isn't matched to anyone."
"You get all four of us," Eli corrects. "The scent match doesn't mean we stop caring about you. It means our biology recognizes her. Our choice—our conscious, deliberate choice—includes you."
"When?" My voice is barely a whisper.
"She's moving in Friday," Drake says. "I know that's fast. But she's been at the registry for two months while we figured this out, and I can't leave her there anymore."
Friday.
Two days.
"And the bonding?"
"We'll take time," Ragon says. "Let everyone adjust. Let you and Marie figure out how to share space. When it feels right, when everyone's settled, we'll mark her. Then you. Then Jasper to complete the pack."
"You've got it all planned out."
"We're trying to be fair," Eli says softly.
"By making all the decisions without me. About my pack. My home. My life."
Silence slams down.
"We were trying to shield you," Ragon says, voice clipped. "Your first pack did enough damage. We thought—"
"You thought you'd handle it. Like I'm some fragile little thing you can put on a shelf until the messy parts are over."
His eyes flash again. "You are not fragile. If you were, I wouldn't expect you to behave like the omega you are."
My jaw drops. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"It means you don't get to throw tantrums because reality is uncomfortable. You don't get to snap at Drake like he deliberately set out to hurt you. You don't get to refuse to treat another omega with basic respect."
"Oh, I'm sorry. Am I being inconvenient? Am I not making this easy enough? Should I bake a cake that says Welcome Marie, Congrats On Being the One Who Matters?"
"Vee," Eli says, horrified.
Drake looks like he might actually cry. His scent is sour with guilt. "Please don't say that. You matter. You both—" His voice breaks. "You both matter."
I'm shaking now. Full-body, hands, legs, teeth. My instincts are in chaos—rage, fear, grief, a desperate, pathetic hope that this is some kind of test I can still pass if I just say the right things.
"Tell me," I whisper, turning to Drake. "If she hadn't shown up… if you hadn't smelled her… were you going to bond me?"
He freezes.
Eli closes his eyes.
Ragon's scent spikes with alarm.
"Answer me. Were you? Or were you just going to keep me like this? Convenient. Temporary. Until something better came along."
"That's not fair," Eli says softly.
"I don't care if it's fair."
Drake swallows. His throat works. "We talked about it. Before. About making it official if things kept going the way they were. I meant what I said back then. I did."
"'If we don't find a scent match in five years, we'll bond you officially,'" I quote. I remember every word. Every look. Every shift of scent in that conversation. "That's what Ragon said, right?"
He nods, eyes glassy. "Yeah."
"It's been almost five years. And you found one."
Silence.
Not a metaphor. Not a maybe. Just the knife.
"But you stayed," Eli whispers. "You stayed with us. We stayed with you."
"Because you didn't know she was out there. Now you do. And everything's different."
"Some things are different," Ragon concedes. "Some aren't. You're still here. You will remain here."
"Until when? Until she gets uncomfortable sharing? Until the registry calls with a better placement for me? Until you decide a two-omega, four-alpha, one-half-broken girl pack is too much?"
His eyes darken. "Enough."
The word rolls over me like thunder. My instincts drop to their knees. My mouth snaps shut.
For a heartbeat, we just stare at each other. Alpha and omega. Leader and… something.