42. Chapter Forty-Two
I watch Elodie take small sips from the glass Jamie brought, her small hands still a little shaky around the cool crystal.
She’s curled right in the middle of Alex’s big bed, tucked between the four of us like she belongs nowhere else, and for the first time in hours her scent has settled back to a calmer note.
The desperate bloom and the edge of fever are gone now, thankfully.
The relief hits me hard in the chest, sharp enough that I have to lock my jaw so I don’t let out the growl building there. Thank fuck the spike broke. I hate seeing her like that, lost to it, even when she trusts us to take care of her.
But the relief doesn’t last long.
My instincts are still buzzing under my skin, scanning every breath she takes, every tiny shift in her posture, looking for any sign the heat might try to come back.
It came on so fast tonight. Too fast. The trip is only days away and the thought of her out there in the middle of nowhere, a day's travel from us, with her body doing whatever the hell it wants… it sits like a stone in my gut.
Adrian keeps stroking her hair in those careful passes he always uses when she needs grounding.
Jamie is on her other side, murmuring some dumb joke about how the osso buco probably started the whole thing, trying to coax a smile out of her.
Alex has one arm wrapped around her waist, holding her close against his chest like he can shield her from the world just by being solid enough.
They are all soft with her, voices low and easy, exactly what she needs right now.
Me? I stay quiet. Arms crossed over my chest, back against the headboard, watching everything. Bracing. Because I already know where this conversation is going the second she finishes that water, and part of me wishes I could keep my mouth shut for once.
Alex waits until she drains the last sip and sets the glass on the nightstand. His voice comes out gentle, the way it always does when he’s trying not to scare her, but I hear the weight underneath it.
“Elodie,” he says, thumb brushing her hip. “That spike came on quicker than the last one. With the field trip only a few days away… we need to talk about it.”
I feel her tense against him before he finishes.
My instincts flare hotter, telling me to pull her close, to fix this, to keep her here where I can watch over her every second. But I keep my mouth shut for now.
I try, I really do, but the words burn in my throat.
“If her heat risk is ramping up this fast,” I say, voice rough and low, “she should skip the trip.”
The room goes dead quiet. Every set of eyes turns toward me, but I keep mine locked on Elodie.
My protective instincts are roaring too loud to soften this.
“The rainforest is not a campus lab. It’s remote, hot, humid, full of unknowns.
If another spike hits out there, hours from any real help, with bugs and weather and God knows what else…
I’m not willing to risk it. Your safety comes first.”
Elodie’s face changes instantly. She pulls away, sitting up from Alex’s chest, eyes widening like I just slapped her. The sated look from minutes ago vanishes, replaced by something sharp and hurt that slices straight through my ribs.
I hate it. I hate every single word I just said, even though every one of them is true. My instincts are screaming at me to lock her down, to keep her here where I can watch over her every second. But seeing the way she is looking at me right now makes me feel like the biggest asshole in the room.
Jamie shifts beside her, uncomfortable. Adrian’s hand stills in her hair. Alex stays quiet, but I can feel the tension rolling off him. None of them argue with me. They’re all thinking the same damn thing. I just said it out loud first.
Elodie’s bottom lip trembles for half a second before she presses them together hard. Her bright blue eyes, still a little glassy from everything earlier, fill with something that looks dangerously close to tears.
I want to take it back. I want to pull her into my chest and tell her I will go with her, that I will stand in the middle of the fucking jungle and fight off every insect if it means she gets to do what she loves. But the words won’t come. My throat feels too tight.
All I can do is sit there with my arms still crossed, watching the damage I just caused settle over the woman I would burn the world down to protect.
Elodie makes a broken sound in the back of her throat. A whine. The kind that hits me square in the chest and makes every protective instinct I have flare up at once.
Then the tears come.
They start slow, just a shimmer in her eyes and one slipping down her cheek. But within seconds they are falling faster, and her breathing turns shaky. She sits up straighter, pulling away from Alex’s chest entirely, her small hands fisting in the sheets.
“This is exactly what I was afraid of,” she says, voice cracking.
“That the pack would always come first. That my designation would take away everything I have worked so hard for. I fought to get that spot on the trip. I earned it. And now one spike and suddenly I have to give it up? Like my dreams don’t matter compared to keeping me safe and locked away. ”
The guilt slams into me so hard I feel it in my bones. I hate this. I hate that I’m the one who made her cry. My words did this. My blunt, heavy handed need to protect her just broke the woman I would do anything for.
My chest feels too tight, like someone wrapped steel bands around my ribs.
I want to reach for her. But I stay frozen against the headboard, arms still crossed, because I know right now my touch is probably the last thing she wants.
Jamie shifts beside her, trying to fix it the only way he knows how.
“Hey, come on,” he says with that bright, hopeful tone he uses when things get heavy. “If you really want to go that bad, we can always get them to bring the whole rainforest back in specimen jars. You will have your own personal jungle right here in the house. Problem solved.”
The joke lands like a rock in still water. Elodie’s face crumples further and the tears come harder. She shakes her head, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes.
“That’s exactly what I mean,” she whispers, voice thick with hurt. “Pack first. My work second. Always.”
The words cut deep. She heard it. She heard exactly what I was saying even if I never meant it that way.
My protectiveness is the problem again. It always is. I keep trying to shield her and all I end up doing is making her feel small. Caged. Like the brilliant, obsessive little entomologist I fell for is disappearing under the label of ‘our omega’ who needs protecting.
I swallow hard, jaw locked so tight it aches. I’ve never felt more like a failure than I do in this moment, watching the tears I caused roll down her cheeks while the rest of the pack sits in heavy silence around us.
Elodie wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, the motion quick and determined even though fresh tears keep slipping free.
Her voice comes out shaky but clear. “I don’t want to stay tonight.
I need to go back to my dorm.” She looks straight at me, blue eyes still wet and bright. “Chase, will you drive me?”
The words land like a punch. I feel the rest of the pack shift around us.
Jamie’s shoulders drop. Adrian’s hand stills in her hair.
Alex meets my gaze for half a second and gives one simple nod, the kind that says he knows this is on me to fix.
They all respect her choice. No one argues. No one tries to convince her to stay.
I stand without a word and grab my keys from the dresser. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
The drive is pure silence. The truck cab feels smaller than it ever has, thick with everything we’re not saying.
Elodie sits in the passenger seat with her cardigan pulled tight around her shoulders and the diamond butterfly necklace still sparkling at her throat.
She stares out the window the whole way, arms wrapped around herself like she’s trying to hold something together.
I keep my eyes on the dark road, hands tight on the steering wheel, jaw locked so hard it aches.
I want to apologize. I want to tell her I only said those things because the thought of her alone in the jungle with her body turning against her makes me feel like I can’t breathe.
I want to explain that my protectiveness is not about controlling her.
It’s about keeping her safe the only way I know how.
The words sit right there on my tongue, heavy and useless.
Every mile feels longer than the last. Her scent is still sweet in the cab, soft now, no longer edged with heat, but the memory of her tears keeps looping through my head. I did that. My blunt, overprotective mouth did that.
When we finally pull up in front of her dorm building, I put the truck in park but don’t turn off the engine. Elodie unbuckles slowly, then pauses with her hand on the door. For one second I think she might say something. Instead she just gives me a small, tired nod and steps out.
I watch her walk toward the entrance. Her shoulders are straight, but I can see the slight tremble in her steps.
Halfway there, Mittens appears from the shadows and winds around her ankles like the little gray guardian she has become. Elodie bends down, scoops the cat up, and hugs her close as she disappears inside.
I sit there with my hands still gripping the wheel, the engine idling, and feel my heart heavier than it has been in weeks.
My protectiveness created the exact rift I was terrified of. And I have no idea how to fix it.