37. Sloane #2
Garrett faces us with his sleeves rolled and his tie loosened, looking less polished now and more dangerous for it. “You need to get control of yourself before the next spike,” he says.
My laugh comes out without humor. “That’s what we’re calling it?”
“We’re calling it exactly what it is.” His voice stays low, but there’s heat under it now. “You’re over-sensitized from the spike, terrified because Calliope isn’t answering, and translating every practical decision into a threat.”
“You keep talking like her being gone is practical.”
“Her staying focused on the interview is practical.”
“Theo is asking for her.”
“Theo is close to his heat and asking for everything that feels soothing in the moment.” Garrett’s eyes flick to the doorway, then back to me. “That doesn’t mean every soothing thing is safe to give him.”
Idris’s jaw tightens. “Calliope isn’t a thing.”
“No,” Garrett says. “She’s a Beta with her own career, her own emotional limits, and no biological capacity to anchor an Omega through a full heat. I’m trying to keep her from being dragged into a role that will hurt her and destabilize him.”
The words land with the same soft wrongness as the foyer, the same polished concern that made Callie’s eyes fill before she left.
My hands curl at my sides. I can still feel Theo’s tremor in my palms, still smell Callie fading out of that sweater, still hear the empty ring of her voicemail in my skull.
“You keep saying that like it’s kindness,” I say. “She cried before she left because every kind thing you said made her feel pushed out.”
Garrett’s face softens too fast. “Calliope was overwhelmed.”
“No.” My voice rises, and I force it back down because Theo is half a room away. “Don’t turn it into something that happened inside her for no reason. She felt pushed because you pushed.”
Garrett looks at Idris. “You’re letting his panic drive this conversation.”
Idris’s eyes don’t move from Garrett’s face. “I don’t know what the fuck is going on here.”
That stops him.
It stops me too, because Idris doesn’t swear like that unless something has gone very, very wrong under his skin.
Idris steps half an inch farther into the hall, still close enough to hear Theo breathe.
“I keep looking at the pieces and telling myself I’m missing one because the alternative makes this house uglier than I want it to be.
Theo tells us he wasn’t scared of Calliope, and you keep translating him.
Calliope says your reassurance makes her feel smaller, and you call her overwhelmed.
Sloane feels command pressure with no audible bark, and you call him emotional.
Now you’re standing here with your sleeves rolled like you’re about to take Callie’s place in the nest and telling us her absence is stability. ”
Garrett’s mouth tightens. “I’m not taking anyone’s place.”
“Then why does every explanation you give end with her outside the room?” Idris asks.
For a second, Garrett has nothing smooth ready.
That is when I see it. Not guilt. Not confession. Irritation. A flash of anger that breaks through because Idris has touched the wrong seam in the argument and Garrett can’t get the fabric flat fast enough.
“I'm the head Alpha of this pack,” Garrett says, each word controlled. “When an Omega approaches heat, I'm responsible for the structure that keeps him safe. That includes making decisions the rest of you are too compromised to make cleanly.”
“Compromised,” I repeat.
“Yes, Sloane.” His eyes snap to mine. “Compromised. You’re bonded to Calliope, territorial over Theo, and too tangled in both to see that your fear of failing her is making you reckless with him.”
Something in my chest goes cold and bright. “Don’t talk about my bond like you understand it.”
“I understand enough.” Garrett steps closer. “You need Calliope in that room because you promised her she would never be extra, and now you’re willing to drag an Omega’s heat around that promise rather than admit there are moments when she can't be the center.”
The hallway goes too quiet.
I hear Theo breathe in the sunroom. I hear Idris shift beside me. I hear my own pulse in my ears, and beneath all of it, I feel the bond mark in my chest ache like it has been struck from the inside.
“She isn’t extra,” I say.
“No one said she was.”
“You did.” My voice is rough now, scraped down to the bone. “You’ve been saying it for days.”
Garrett’s temper slips.
There is no bark. No shouted word. Nothing I can repeat later as proof.
The pressure hits without sound, dense and furious, an Alpha pulse shoved through the hallway so hard it sinks into my teeth.
My body snaps still before I choose stillness.
My shoulders lock. My breath catches halfway in my throat.
For one awful second, I’m not standing my ground.
I’m standing because the shape of his authority has pinned me there.
Across from me, Idris goes rigid.
He felt it too.
The pressure dissolves almost as fast as it came, leaving my skin crawling and my jaw aching. Garrett breathes once, smooths his expression, and looks at me like I’m the unstable one.
“You’re too emotional to think clearly,” he says.
My fist moves before thought catches up.
The punch lands hard against his mouth. Garrett’s head snaps to the side, and the sound of it cracks through the hallway loud enough that Theo whimpers from the nest. Idris grabs me from behind before I can follow the hit with anything worse, one arm across my chest, the other catching my wrist. I fight him for half a second, pure instinct, pure rage, until Theo makes another small sound and the noise guts me.
Garrett turns back slowly. Blood darkens the corner of his mouth. The polished concern is gone now. For the first time all day, he looks furious without bothering to dress it up.
“You need to fucking get yourself under control,” he says.
I’m breathing hard enough to shake against Idris’s hold. “You used your Alpha on me.”
Garrett wipes his thumb across his mouth and looks at the blood like it belongs to someone else. “I told you to control yourself, and you responded by throwing a punch in the hallway while Theo is half a room away from another spike.”
“That isn’t what happened,” Idris says, and his voice is quiet enough to be dangerous.
Garrett’s gaze cuts to him. “Then you’d better decide what did happen before you let him back into that nest. Theo is injured, heat-close, and emotionally raw. Calliope still isn’t answering. Sloane is violent in the hallway, and you’re standing there trying to make this about my tone.”
My chest heaves against Idris’s arm. He doesn’t let go. I hate that he’s right to hold me. I hate that Garrett made him right.
Garrett’s phone buzzes.