47. Calliope
Calliope
Six days after Garrett breaks into the house, Theo still looks toward every doorway before he settles.
He does it when we eat breakfast, his eyes moving from the hall to the rear windows before he takes the chair between Idris and me.
He does it in the living room while Sloane rubs his feet, and again when Dash crosses into his office to answer a call.
The new cameras cover every entrance, the service door has been replaced, and Garrett remains in custody, but Theo keeps count of us until he knows no one has disappeared.
His voice has gone quiet again. The only thing Theo has asked for more than once is Sloane’s permanent mark. Sloane has kissed the place Theo wants him to bite each time and told him they will choose it when Theo wants the bond more than he wants relief from being afraid.
Some mornings, he speaks only when one of us asks a direct question, and even then his answers come in a few soft words before he presses closer to whoever is holding him. No one asks him to explain the silence or prove that he is improving.
Today, he sits on the floor between Sloane’s legs while Sloane combs his fingers through his hair.
Idris occupies the end of the couch with a tablet balanced on one knee, reading the latest security report without hiding it from anyone.
Dash is at the dining table repairing the hinge on one of Theo’s wooden nest boxes, and I am curled in the corner of the couch with my feet tucked beneath Idris' thigh.
The house sounds normal again. Tools tap lightly against the table, Sloane murmurs something near Theo’s ear, and Idris pauses every few minutes to kiss my temple before returning to the report.
Zana called this morning to confirm that Garrett’s request for release had been denied. The break-in footage, the false documents in his coat, the active fraud investigation, and his attempt to reach Theo after being told to stay away have left him behind a locked door while the case moves forward.
The news didn't make me celebrate. It settled into the quiet place inside me where Garrett’s voice used to live and closed something I had spent too long trying to hold open.
He can't enter this house again. He can't call an officer and make his lies sound official, can't use Sloane’s voice to tell me I have been discarded, and can't stand over Theo while deciding what his silence means.
I have Sloane beside me again, his bond warm beneath my skin even when he is across the room. Idris' mark remains tender enough that I notice it when he kisses me, and Theo’s hand still searches for mine whenever he moves close.
Dash is here too. He has been here through every ordinary hour of the past week, checking the locks without making the house feel like a cell, placing coffee beside me before I ask, and letting Theo sit on the floor near his desk while he works.
He is the first person I looked for after Garrett was taken away. He is the person who cleaned my bruised knuckles, slept at the edge of the nest when Theo could not tolerate another closed door, and woke before dawn each morning because the smallest sound still brought him upright.
The certainty has been with me since before the break-in. I kept waiting because I didn't want to choose him during a crisis, during Theo’s spike, or while I was still finding my footing with the bonds I had lost.
Nearly a week has passed. The house has steadied, and my answer has not changed.
Dash looks up when I unfold my legs and stand. His eyes move over my face immediately, searching for strain before I have said anything.
“I am going into the lockoff for a little while,” I tell them. “I am staying in the house, and I have my phone.”
Theo turns beneath Sloane’s hands. His shoulders lift before he looks toward the hall, then back at me.
“The lockoff?” he asks.
“Yes, Star.” I cross the room and crouch in front of him, smoothing his hair away from his forehead before kissing him. “I need a quiet minute. You know where I am.”
Theo studies my face, then presses his cheek against my palm. Sloane keeps one hand on his shoulder while Idris sets the tablet aside and looks directly at me.
“Do you want company?” Idris asks.
“Not yet.” I glance toward Dash, who has gone very still at the table. “I will tell you if that changes.”
Sloane catches my wrist before I straighten and kisses the inside of it. His bond presses warm against me, full of concern without any attempt to keep me in the room.
“We will be here, baby,” he says. Theo nods beside him, and Idris reaches over to touch the paired piece connected to my bracelet before I leave.
The lockoff smells faintly of cedar and the lavender detergent Dash used on the sheets when this room was the only place I could sleep.
The bed has been made, the small lamp still sits on the table, and one of my old sweaters remains folded in the bottom drawer because I never remembered to carry it back into the rest of the house.
I run my fingers over the sleeve before closing the drawer. The room does not feel lonely now, though I remember how carefully I once arranged my belongings so I could leave without taking too long.
Dash never asked me to unpack more than I could bear. He gave me a key, kept food in the refrigerator, and sat outside the door on the nights when I needed someone near me but could not tolerate being touched.
My phone vibrates against the bedspread. For one ugly second my stomach still reacts before my mind catches up, but the screen is open to the Pack thread instead of another number I don’t know.
Theo: Are you okay?
I look toward the closed door before answering.
Callie: I’m okay. I just needed quiet for a few minutes.
Theo: Okay.
Sloane: We’re staying in the living room.
Idris: No one is coming in unless you ask.
Theo: I wasn’t going to.
Sloane: You have been staring at the hallway since she left.
Theo: Rude.
The laugh that slips out of me is small, but it’s real. Another message appears before I can put the phone down.
Dash: I’m in the hall. Do you want me to stay there?
I let my thumb rest over the keyboard for a moment.
Callie: Give me five minutes?
Dash: Take as long as you need.
Theo sends a heart. Sloane sends three. Idris reacts to Sloane’s messages with a thumbs-down. Another small laugh slips through my lips before I set the phone beside me with the screen still facing up.
A soft knock comes several minutes later. Dash opens the door only after I answer, then steps inside and leaves it partly open behind him.
“We are worried,” he says. His gaze moves over the room before returning to me, and his hands remain loose at his sides.
“You and Theo?” I ask.
“All of us.” He comes closer but stops before reaching for me. “Theo asked where you went twice. Sloane reminded him, and Idris showed him that your light was still on.”
I touch the bracelet at my wrist. Three sections glow steadily, each one lit by someone in the other room. Dash’s remains dark because he is already standing in front of me. “I told them where I was going.”
“You did.” Dash looks toward the bed, then back at me. “I thought you might need a minute after Zana called.”
“I did need one.” I sit on the edge of the mattress and watch him remain near the door. “I needed to remember what this room was.”
His expression changes, though he does not pretend not to understand. “It was somewhere you could lock the door.”
“It was somewhere you made safe for me.”
Dash’s throat moves. He looks away for a moment, his attention settling on the chair where he spent more than one night while I slept.
“You needed somewhere no one could take from you,” he says. “I gave you a room.”
“You gave me more than that.” I reach for him, and Dash crosses the remaining distance before placing his hand in mine. “You gave me enough time to survive what they had done.”
His fingers close around mine. He lowers himself in front of me, one knee against the rug, and rests his other hand lightly on my thigh.
“If you need to stay in here tonight, I can keep everyone back,” he says. “I can stay outside the door, or I can sit with you. You decide.”
I look at him and understand that he is still prepared to offer every kind of distance except the one I no longer want. He has waited through Sloane returning, Idris reclaiming his place, Theo choosing me again, and every old bond settling into my body.
“Life is too fleeting,” I tell him. “I can't keep waiting for what is already mine.”
Dash’s hand stills against my thigh. The hope that moves across his face is sharp enough to hurt, but he keeps his voice steady when he answers.
“Callie, you don't owe me a bond because everyone else has one.”
“This isn't about everyone else.” I slide forward until our knees touch and place both hands against his face. “I knew I wanted you before they came back. I knew it in the kitchen, in your bed, and every time you sat outside this door because you were afraid I would wake alone.”
His eyes close briefly beneath my palms. When they open again, the restraint in them is almost painful.
“Garrett came into this house six days ago,” he says. “You are still shaken, and I will not use that to take something permanent from you.”
“Garrett didn't make me choose you.” I trace my thumbs over his cheeks and lean closer. “He reminded me how much time I have already wasted pretending I need a better reason.”
Dash’s breath catches as I kiss him. His hands come to my waist without pulling, waiting until I deepen the kiss before his fingers tighten against my clothes.
When I draw back, his forehead follows mine. The room is quiet enough that I can hear the change in his breathing.
“You said you were mine,” I whisper. “Prove it.”
His eyes darken, but he does not move until I nod. Dash rises slowly and brings me with him, one hand firm at my lower back while the other remains against my cheek.
“Tell me exactly what you want,” he says.